Page 10 of Daughter of the Serpent

"Well, this settles things; we must surrender ourselves to the whims of destiny!" Tara exclaimed with infectious excitement. "We must find our way to the festivities tonight!"

Sonya responded with a soft smile that held warmth and subtle warning.

"I hope to see you there. Just be careful."

"We will," Tara affirmed with a nod, determination shining in her eyes.

Stepping back onto the bustling street, Sylvie's gaze collided with Hjalmarr, who trailed a few feet behind, a silent sentinel in the crowd.

Leaning in, Tara whispered to Sylvie, "Hopefully, by this eve, we can shake offour tail."

"We'll discuss it further once we're back in our quarters," Sylvie advised cautiously. "We can't afford the risk of anyone overhearing us."

"Fine," Tara whined, but her disappointment was short - lived as her eyes brightened. "Look! Molly's cart!"

Navigating through the lively crowd and being mindful of her steps, Tara halted at a familiar cart laden with sweet cakes and bread. The enticing aroma and the tantalizing memory of Molly's delectable creations flooded Sylvie’s senses. Molly, the esteemed village baker, was renowned for her culinary prowess, often supplying the temple with her pastries and baked goods to the delight of the high priest. Though Molly was often kind and hadn't given Sylvie much trouble in the past when she was asked to pick up the high priest’s daily bread, her husband Baldr was not as welcoming.

“We shouldn’t linger long Tara,” Sylvie whispered under her breath. “We should make haste.”

“Just a minute!” Tara whined, her eyes as wide as saucers as she took in the loaded table of every shape and size of fanciful desserts. “Give me your remaining coin!”

Molly then appeared from behind the wooden cart, her hands still white from fresh flour. Tall as she was wide, Molly was a jolly woman, her rounded features soft and welcoming, her eyes kind. Recognition struck her features then before a large smile stretched her rounded cheeks. “Ah what a privilege! The children of the light are here!"

Without hesitation she extended her hands to the bundles of bread and sweet pastries, plucking two concealed honey cakes from the back of the cart. “A gift to the gods and their humble children. It is our honor on this day!”

Tara moved excitedly forward, her hands outreached as Molly placed the sweets in each of her upturned palms. “Thank you Molly! You have the best cakes in the village!” Tara exclaimed. “We are so grateful!”

“Just be careful the high priest doesn’t snatch that from yeethroat.” Molly winked, her voice filled with mirth, her hands bracing her extended belly as it shook with laughter. “He never goes a day without my honey cakes!”

Tara nodded humbly, a smile still creasing the corners of her mouth. Extending her hand outward to Sylvie, Tara offered her the second of the honey cakes, her eyes crinkling with excitement.

“Not her!” A voice snapped from behind the cart, frenzied and wild with disgust. “That child is not to be served here!”

A man then appeared, tall, broad, and just as stout as Molly.

Ashes.

Baldr was one of the retired temple guards and had often singled Sylvie out because of her distinguishing mark. When she was commissioned to go to town on temple errands, he would often create a scene, his outrage at her appearance among the village decidedly intolerable.

Shaking his fist his eyes went ablaze when he saw the cake already in Sylvie’s hand. In a snap he was already around the cart looking to knock the cake from her fingers. Fist outreached ready to strike, Sylvie stiffened, preparing for the blow.

Yet the blow never landed.

Her eyes went wide when she saw what was now before her. There, fist inches from her wrist, lay the blade of Hjalmarr’s ax.

“Touch her, and that hand won't touch a thing again.”

Voice as smooth as silk, and yet as curttled as sour milk, Hjalmarr held the blade steady against the man’s flesh.

The crowd had grown silent, and instantly Sylvie felt all eyes from all directions upon them.

“She is under the protection of the temple, and thus under the protection of the gods. Any insult you speak of this girl, is a direct insult to them.” His eyes once more turned to thin slits as he took in the man. “Do you dare be so brave to tempt their fury?”

The man seemed to turn to ash, his face as red and as hot as a cherry tomato fresh from the summer vines.

“But she is the child of the serpent!” He exclaimed. “She will bring the wrath of evil down upon us!”

“That is not for you to decide.”

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