Page 2 of Kissed By the Gods
That does merit a response from my mother.
“Leina! Be more careful!” The command is sharp, angry. She’s on edge.
I can’t blame her. We all are.
I turn to Seb, who is staring at me with worry lining his young face. He’s the only person I confide in since these episodes started. It’s not that my parents haven’t noticed. Of course they have. We simply never speak of it and won’t start now. They won’t acknowledge that I’ve somehow managed to harvest three times as much wheat as Seb and two times as much as my father, though they both outweigh me by a solid 100 pounds of muscle. Six years ago, I couldn’t keep up with either of them.
The changes have been drastic. Unnatural. It’s one of the reasons I’m 24 and unmarried. No one outside of our family can be trusted.
But Seb shouldn’t be the one comforting me, not with what is coming for him. And soon. Wheat isn’t all that’s harvested in this kingdom every autumn.
The Collection has begun.
My nightmares have flared up again, forcing me to relive that cursed day six years ago when the Faraengardian soldiers came. The day they killed Irielle and dragged my twin brother, Levvi, and my beau, Alden, away in chains. The day we lost all three of them forever.
I force a smile. “Of course! Only tired.” I reach to put my hand on the small of Leo’s back to nudge him toward our father but pull back before I touch him. I haven’t had physical contact with Leo since I accidentally broke his arm last summer. If Mother wasn’t such a skilled healer, it might have killed him. It was a nasty break.
I nod in Father’s direction, instead. “I think Father needs some water, Leo.”
“Okay!” He says, eagerly scampering off across the field.
Seb studies me, head cocked, gauging my truthfulness.
“You’re lying,” Seb says after Leo is out of earshot.
Seb always knows when someone is lying. It’s an uncanny knack that makes him unbeatable at card games, not that Father allows him to play with the villagers very often. That would draw unwanted attention, so he only plays when we’re really, truly desperate. The last time was when we couldn’t afford to feed even Leo.
I sigh and wave a dismissive hand. “It’s worse today.”
His lips pull back in a grimace. “What happened this time?” He’s not quite whispering, but he’s still quiet.
I allow myself a small smile. “There’re termites under the lord’s veranda.”
Seb’s face freezes in surprise, no doubt marveling that I can somehow see a bug smaller than a fingernail when he can’t even make out the marble columns from here. Then his lips pull back in a small grin. “I hope they eat the whole damn place.”
A snort of laughter escapes before I can contain it.
“Seb! Leina! Stop fooling around. We have important work to finish here.”
We turn toward Mother, whose voice has gone beyond sharp; it’s almost hysterical. Her face is drawn tight in grief and pain, her mouth pulled back in a straight, bitter line. She was beautiful once, before they took Levvi in the Collection. Her face was softer then. She was softer. Now, she’s all sharp edges and hard corners.
I glance at Father, who’s staring at our mother like he does when he thinks no one will notice—it’s a weary kind of love he carries for her, and for us, too, I think. Sometimes, he seems small. Not because he’s physically small; he’s a verylarge man, standing a full head over most of the men from the village, with defined muscles in his back, arms, and legs from a lifetime of hard labor. But his confidence was shattered long ago and he keeps his head down. It’s what kept him alive in the Faraengardian mines when he served in the Collection.
He shakes his head at me and Seb, a silent command ofdon’t. Don’t push back. Don’t raise your voice. Don’t question.
My rage, always perilously close to the surface, churns, so I turn to start harvesting another row. I swing my scythe with all my might to exhaust my wrath on the wheat, but my arm stops a hairsbreadth from the waving stalks in front of me. I could’ve sworn a horse neighed, but we don’t have a horse. No serfs do. I squint my eyes toward the north, where our little dirt path meets the main cobblestone road leading into the Kingdom of Faraengard, and my heart pounds in my chest. Sweet Serephelle, no. The soldiers are here.
“Seb.” I whisper it, but the helplessness weighing down his name makes it land like a thunderclap in our little field.
Everyone freezes. My father stops his own scythe mid swing. Mother drops the pile of wheat she’d gathered, a groan of despair rising from deep within her. Leo drops his bucket, water quickly soaking the earth.
Seb walks back over to stand next to me, both our gazes locked on the horizon.
“I don’t see anything, Leina,” he says, his voice calm.
My hands clench on my scythe. “They’re here.”
My mother’s moan turns into a wail as she breaks. She gathers her skirts to run toward us. “Run, Seb! They can’t see you yet. You can hide in the woods. You know the woods so well!” She’s nothing but a flurry of hands, pushing against his chest. “Run! I’ve already lost one son and I can’t lose another. Run!”
