Lavender

By Sophie Welsh

Lavender knows what her family expects of her.
She just doesn't know how to avoid it.

All her life, Lavender has wandered the forest outside her home, climbing its tall and ancient trees and following its brooks. Yet now her father has betrothed her to a boy in her village: Erkin, son of the village Elder. For Lavender, who hates being stuck indoors, has no knack for cooking, and would far rather be exploring the high branches of the forest, marriage is a fate worse than death. But fate is rarely so simple, and a chance argument reveals a secret at the heart of the forest that could change everything she thought possible.

Sometimes, friends can spring from the most unlikely places, and the biggest fears and the greatest evils don't need to come at the point of a sword. For Lavender, the struggle to make her own path has only begun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sophie Welsh
• Release date: Aug 2, 2015

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Lavender

by Sophie Welsh

Copyright 2015 Sophie Welsh

All Rights Reserved

Cover Design by Hannah Christenson

Smashwords Edition July 2015

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, trademarked products, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of contents

Chapter 1: Lavender

Chapter 2: Betrothal

Chapter 3: Pathway

Chapter 4 Feathercrown

Chapter 5: Sparrowfeather

Chapter 6: Hatching

Chapter 7: Binding

Chapter 8: Aria

Chapter 9: Promises

Chapter 10: Oven

Chapter 11: Travels

Chapter 12: Sirrun

Chapter 13: Fendhal

Chapter 14: Meet

Chapter 15: Departing

Chapter 16: Enrolled

Chapter 17: Fair

Chapter 18: Unfair

Chapter 19: School

Chapter 20: Gifts

Chapter 21: Wife

Chapter 22: Drill

Chapter 23: Flight

Chapter 24: Revealed

Chapter 25: Fight

Chapter 26: Wren

Epilogue

About the author

Chapter 1: Lavender.

Lavender!

The call rang out into the morning mists at the same time it always did, just as the sun pushed its way above the trees and melted the dew still clinging to the grass. Grasping a sturdy branch by a few fingers, Lavender dangled from her favourite tree and did her best not to hear it. She stared watchfully into the forest beyond, over the old stone wall and past the brook, where the trees got too high to climb. Releasing the branch, she fell to the ground with a whoop, leaving two deep bootprints in the mud and a ring of dirt around her skirt, which didn't trouble her. The old wall was taller from down here, but not tall enough to stop her easily scrambling over the thing, dropping down over the side with another splat of mud. She didn't often go much further than this now; her mother was slowly putting a stop to her exploration.

Lavender! Her mother called again, but it was easier to ignore the further she ran, losing herself amongst the birdsong and the wind rushing through the branches high above. The brook announced itself suddenly to her senses, icy water sloshing into her boots whilst her attention was given to the branches above, watching the birds flit from branch to branch in a dance only they understood. Lavender sat on one of the drier rocks as she wet her dress, flecks of mud from its hem caught by the current and carried away. She took another moment to enjoy the odd feeling as she wiggled her toes inside her flooded boots, knowing that if she walked home now, she would only trudge muddy prints into the house. Worse than a scolding, she wouldn't be allowed back out for a week at least. She wouldn't be able to climb her favourite tree or sit on the old wall and crush berries between its stones, or turn over rotten old logs just to watch the bugs scurry away from the sunlight. Her father would glare at her as she helped mother around the house, and they'd have another talk when they thought she was asleep about what sort of man would choose a wife that knew more about climbing trees than tending a home.

She squeezed the thoughts from her mind as she emptied her boots back into the brook and tugged them on again, setting her sights on a dead old tree in the distance. A storm weeks ago had snapped its trunk, and it fell against a healthier tree, balanced just enough that if she was very careful she could walk up its length and into boughs she’d never reached before. The forest became still as she approached the dead tree, set out on its own like the rest of the forest wouldn’t associate with it. It had to fall far to collide with another, and its trunk was slick with patches of moss, beetles and centipedes that had made their home in the damp wood disappearing under its surface as she clambered onto it. After a single step, Lavender slipped, bouncing awkwardly and crashing into the hard earth below, biting down on a cry of pain. Pulling herself up fast in case someone was watching, her face turned red with the shame of such a quick failure. Any of the older boys from the village would be quick to laugh as they climbed with ease, stronger and more sure-footed than she could ever be. She tried again, but failed as quickly, and again, until she couldn’t risk any more bruises, or any more of her mother’s displeasure. Defeated, Lavender trudged slowly back towards the brook; she hopped across shallow stones to avoid soaking her boots again, deftly avoided the muddiest ground as she climbed carefully over the old wall, passed her favourite tree and quietly returned home.

~

The door to the small cottage Lavender called home was shut as she approached, her mother long having given up trying to call her. Her hand trembled as she reached up for the handle. It rattled slightly as she turned it, much as it had for as long as Lavender could remember. Her Mother, Kerren, faced away from the door, sat on a rickety wooden chair with a large shirt draped across her lap – one of Lavender's Father's, judging by the size of it, and more like a blanket than a shirt, made for someone several times her size. Kerren's fingers moved quickly through the air, wielding a needle with precision and sewing a thick looking patch where a wayward spark from the forge had burned through the shirt.

Lavender, She said quietly. Shrinking back, Lavender shut the door, the bolt sliding closed with a thump. Her mother didn't look up, or stop, the gentle, disappointed movement of her sewing turning the quiet unbearable.

I'm sorry, Lavender spoke eventually. This was worse than being shouted at, when it felt like her Mother had no anger left to give, and had simply given up.

Are you? She asked. Lavender stiffened, determined not to let herself show any weakness, saying nothing. A taut moment passed between them; Kerren's shoulders sagged, the sound of her sewing dying away to nothing.

I've tried to keep your Father out of this, she continued. I promised him I could manage to keep you in hand, that a growing girl like you needed a woman's touch, not a smith's. She stood, resting the fixed garment over the back of the chair, and faced Lavender. Lines of worry and regret had aged her face before its time, dark green eyes sank deep into their sockets resigned to what comes next. He heard you sneak out this morning.

Her heart plummeted. She'd done everything she could to be quiet – she'd avoided the creaking floorboards, tiptoed around the house like a burglar, even slept in her clothes the night before to avoid any possibility she could make the slightest sound getting dressed. She had wanted to see the sun rise from the top of her favourite tree like she used to, before she got tall enough to fit into one of Mother's old skirts and Father started insisting that she stop acting so boyishly.

Kerren sighed. This can't go on, Lavender. Your Father and I have indulged you far too long. No other families in the village let their daughters wander so freely at your age, and people... notice. There's talk of you not being normal, pitying the man that comes to have you for a wife, who can't mend or sew or cook a meal.

Sullenly, Lavender continued to stare up at her Mother, not daring to blink in case it dislodged a tear, her fists packed into tightly clenched balls held tight to her sides.

You are lucky, whether or not you see it now, Said Kerren, kneeling down until she looked Lavender in the eyes, her hands on Lavender's shoulders. Your Father is well respected. The Elder's boy is your age, or near enough. Many of the other girls will have to leave the village to find marriage, sent to far off towns where they might never see their family again. This hadn't been the first time her Mother had mentioned the Elder's son, and Lavender had met the boy, Erkin, once not so long ago – more than two years her senior he had towered over her as he helped her lift some boxes she couldn't manage on her own – she hated him immediately. The idea she could end up... it didn't bear thinking about. Something about her distaste for the idea must have slipped out, because her Mother allowed herself a small smile.

I thought the same when I found out I was to be engaged to your Father. I was like you once, if you believe that. Thought the world would wait whilst I went exploring. I never wanted to stop. Then you came along, my spring flower, and everything fit together. I knew where I was meant to be. She faltered for a moment, like she'd just remembered she was meant to be scolding Lavender, and her expression sobered quickly. Your Father will be angry when he comes home. At both of us. But he just wants what's best for you.

At Lavender's continued silence, Kerren picked herself up, pacing quickly across the room to a small wooden drawer under a kitchen counter, where Lavender knew she kept her coin.

I don't want you moping around the house all day, She announced lightly, handing her a few copper coins. Bring back a chicken. Stay away from the forge, and don't dawdle. Too long, anyway.

~

The village of Lundel splayed out lazily at the bottom of the hill, nestled amongst sprawling forests and steep sloping hills. Lavender had never seen where the forest ended, or what lay beyond the hills, even in her furthest travels. A single well worn dirt track marked out the route from Lavender's home to the centre of the village, lined with years of footprints and freshly churned up by cart wheels. The local farmers brought their goods to market once a week, filling the villages square with brightly painted stalls, each trying to outsell the other, loudly boasting about whatever they seemed particularly proud of that week. Occasionally, travelling merchants would arrive the same day, bringing goods from stead’s that couldn't make the trip, or other towns entirely. Unlike the local farmers, they bragged of the cities they'd came from, hoping to impress with their ranging travels and exotic goods. Despite this, Lavender couldn't much tell the difference between a carrot from Lundel and one from Trentel. She turned it over in her hands, examining it with a sceptical eye, and quietly placed it back where she'd found it and wandered to another stall.

You look as cheery as your Pa, A voice suddenly at her side observed. Erkin. She scarcely recognised him from the corner of her eye, his body bulking out from months spent apprenticed under her Father at the forge, and his voice deepening apparently by the day. Despite the new muscle, he still managed to be gawky, shooting upwards faster than he could fill out. Lavender ignored him entirely, finding something fascinating in a stall piled high with trinkets and crudely made ornaments, not stopping long enough for him to think he had her attention. He followed anyway, groups of villagers parting before him where Lavender had to weave through unnoticed. Putting a gaggle of chattering women between herself and Erkin and picking up speed, she darted left behind a stall, crouched down, and peeked round it for any clue that he was searching for her, but there was no sign of him.

Dropped your coin? He asked, somehow standing directly behind her. Startled, Lavender leapt to her feet, whirling to face Erkin with a sour glare.

Owch! He reeled back, shielding his eyes. Have I done something? Brushing the dirt from her knees, Lavender slipped past him without a word. He could spend his morning following her if it pleased him, but that didn't mean she had to play along.

I haven't seen you wander the village for some time – or spotted you roaming the forest at dawn from my window, He spoke conversationally as she ducked her way through the crowds, looking for someone selling chicken that looked edible. Lavender paused mid-step at that; before her Mother and Father had started limiting her explorations she often enjoyed the forest near the Elder's house, half way up one of the nearby hills. The trees there leaned away from the slope of the hill, but were gentle climbs, and she enjoyed how the ground fell away beneath her. She hadn't thought that Erkin would have noticed her perched up there; never mind thought anything of it when she stopped appearing. Worse then, is that he would have certainly seen how her pace faltered just now. She turned to face him again, no sign of amusement on his face that he had forced her into an awkward spot. She opened her mouth – his head tilted, curious – then she closed it again.

Almost, He noted. That was the final straw.

Almost what? She shot back through clenched teeth.

You don't talk. I've asked. The only people in this village who have any idea what you sound like are your Mother and Father. Most know that you can, just that you don't. Why?

She looked up at him, but said nothing. Unlike everyone else who had ever asked, he actually seemed to mean it as a question, rather than as a way to mock her.

I'm annoying you, He said. It wasn't a question, as he knew the answer.

Yes.

But you haven't asked me to leave you be.

Lavender fell silent again, returning to her search. It didn't take long to find what she was looking for, even with Erkin doggedly following, though he stood closer to her side than behind her now. She handed her few coins over to an elderly farmer, who placed the plucked and wrapped bird into a waiting basket. Few at market ever attempted to haggle with Lavender, which suited her fine.

That's a useful trick, Said Erkin as they walked off. Pretend to be mute and they won't try to talk you out of more coin.

Lavender waited a few moments for the crowd to thin before answering.

They don't think I'm mute. They think I'm stupid.

The sound of life from the village square faded as they walked from it. Lavender had been able to put up with Erkin's presence there, surrounded by others, but now they stood on the dirt path alone it was uncomfortably like he was... accompanying her.

You aren't stupid, He said it quietly, like a piece of some puzzle suddenly fit together with the rest. Nobody wants their son wed to a drooling idiot, so that's what you showed the village. Most of them probably think you can't get dressed without help. So why tell me?

Lavender didn't know the answer to that. Anger was a part of it, the way he knew just to drop that single word that irritated an answer out of her - but so was something else. Erkin talked to her, not at her. He asked questions that he wanted her answers to. He sought her out to pester her to talk, when everyone else had simply used her silence to make fun.

Why are you following me? Lavender asked. It was Erkin's turn to be silent now, his hands tucked deep into trouser pockets, shoulders hunched awkwardly.

Your plan to keep people away didn't work, He answered eventually, what confidence he had moments ago vanished. I'm not much of an apprentice - I don't have the knack for smithing. No other craftsman has room to take me. Your father and mine talked, a week back, and in the end he agreed to keep me on, but only for a price, Erkin swallowed, his hand fumbling with an object in his pocket. You. He reached out towards Lavender, opening his hand. A small silver ring sat on his palm, glinting in the morning sun. The dowry has already been paid.

Lavender took a step back, followed quickly by another, staring in mute horror at the ring in Erkin's hand. Your Father handed this to me an hour ago. Told me to find you and give it to you. Please believe me when I say it wasn't my idea.

She glanced back up the hill, still edging away from Erkin. He shrank backwards, pulling his hand away with him.

I'm sorry, He whispered.

Lavender ran.

Chapter 2: Betrothal.

Evening came too quickly for Lavender, who silently helped her Mother prepare dinner, a tight knot in her stomach that only wound itself tighter and tighter with every passing hour. She forced herself not to think, chopping vegetables and feeding the fire under the oven, anything to distract her from the moment her Father walked through the door. Regardless, the sun drifted slowly across the sky and beneath the trees. With dread, Lavender watched as sunset turned the sky pink whilst she swept dust out of the back door and into the grass, the evening breeze catching it playfully before scattering it. As always, Lavender heard her Father before she saw him, heavy footsteps and the clink of metal outside the door sending a shiver of fear running through her. She glanced over at her Mother, who sat at the table quietly, seemingly without care. She knew her Mother would always put on a brave face for her, no matter what she truly felt. The door closed behind the mountainous blacksmith, no word of greeting given or returned. In better moods, what seemed to Lavender like years ago, her Father would sweep Lavender up with one arm, perching her up on his shoulders and kissing Kerren as though he hadn't seen her in months. Now the best she hoped for was an empty nod, an acknowledgement that she was here at all. He sat down heavily in his chair by the table, the only one in the house large enough to fit him, and pulled his boots off, dropping them down at the side. Throughout this, his eyes, the same brown as hers and nestled deeply beneath a strong brow and black hair, never shifted from Lavender, or hers from him. There was no contest of wills between them however – her Father held her as surely as he would if his arms were around her, and both of them knew it. As though prompted, Kerren sprang up out of her own seat, pulling the chicken pie and roasting vegetables out of the oven, having this moment decided that they could withstand no more cooking. She sliced into the pie, dividing it up between them. Nearly half went to Lavender's Father alone, along with most of the vegetables, Lavender given a small slither, mostly pastry and gravy.

This is mostly Lavender's work, Said Kerren, once they all sat around the table. It wasn't true. Lavender had bought the chicken and chopped the vegetables, but she played no part in the cooking, kept neatly out of the way whilst her Mother worked. She'll be an excellent cook one day. Her Father nodded as he ate, barely stopping to chew – Lavender didn't know how he could eat so quickly without letting it cool, but suspected that his years around the forge had made everything else seem cold by comparison, even when just removed from the oven. She fetched the chicken too, didn't you? Kerren glanced meaningfully at Lavender, who nodded quickly, blowing on a gently steaming chunk of roast parsnip.

And still found the time in the day to be outside without permission, Her Father rumbled without looking up from his meal. Lavender said nothing – she knew well that any attempts to explain herself would be dismissed as excuses, and would only deepen his anger.

Your Mother and I have always been fair to you, Lavender. But you have never returned that fairness with respect. We feed you, clothe you, love you, but you have made it clear that you do not wish to be part of this family. You reject what small chores we ask of you. You go out when it is forbidden. You turn your mother into a liar and set her against me. Her Father set his cutlery down, staring across the table, first at Kerren, then to Lavender. Show me your hands.

Lavender froze, terrified of what he would do when he saw that she did not wear the ring Erkin had brought to her.

Show me, He repeated. Nervously, Lavender held her hands out towards her Father. He grasped them by her wrists, gripping tight enough that she could not pull away. She forced down the urge to squirm despite the discomfort, but could not bring herself to look her Father in the eyes, to see the fury within them die and turn to empty defeat.

Now you refuse the arrangements – the sacrifices – I make to ensure your happiness. He dropped her hands like they were covered in filth, and snatched her plate away, placing it out of reach. If you will not take your place in this family, then you will have no share in it. Just as you have always wanted, He said, his voice heavy with sorrow. Kerren's mouth hung open, but she offered no protest or defence of Lavender, no small look of support or companionship. Then, as if nothing had happened, she simply resumed her meal.

Lavender sat for a moment between the two, at the table without any food, struggling to fathom what had just happened. It was as if in that instant, she had fallen beneath notice, no longer their daughter but a stranger whose welcome had been outstayed. She pulled away from the table, standing shakily, her gut an icy lump deep within her. She stood still for a moment, wishing for some reprieve, for either of them to simply shout at her until she ducked her head and apologised and promised to be better next time, but nothing happened. Tears welled up behind her eyes. Her throat tightened. Before she could summon the strength to push them away, she could feel the warm droplets force their way out from behind stinging eyes, streaming down her face and dripping from her chin.

Distraught, Lavender fled to her room, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could. Dragging her blanket to the floor, she kicked it under the bed, and then quickly followed behind it. Hidden there, wrapped in her blanket to hide the tears and muffle the sobs she couldn't make stop, Lavender wailed. She wailed longer than she had ever let herself before, until her throat ached and she had rubbed bruises into her eyes, until the only feeling she had left was the discomfort of her empty stomach grumbling. She wept in mourning of all that she'd lost – a loving Father who once held her so proudly, a caring Mother, a forest to lose herself in, the possibility of one day seeing what lay beyond. Now all she had left was the choice. Be the daughter they demanded, or starve.

Through the wall, she heard her Mother and Father talk, though she no longer had the desire to listen in. Their voices climbed and lowered indistinctly – her Father rarely yelled, though her Mother would often be loud and soft and loud again over a single sentence. They only ever both yelled when they talked of her, each blaming the other for Lavender's quiet stubbornness. Their discussion faded away after a while, the sounds of both their footsteps working their way around the house, as Lavender's Father settled for the evening whilst Kerren cleaned the table.

After, there was only silence, periodically interrupted by Lavender sniffling and wiping her nose. In the gloom, what felt like hours passed. Unwilling to crawl out from under her bed, she tried to fall asleep with little success, staring miserably at the wall as her stomach ached ever more painfully. The bedroom door opened slightly – her Mother's small feet appeared, and the door shut behind them. Approaching where Lavender lay, they stopped at the edge of the bed, which creaked as she sat on it, though Kerren weighed almost as little as Lavender.

I would have brought you food, Kerren said quietly. But I should not have broken his trust to begin with. It will be a long time before I regain it. She paused briefly, and Lavender could hear her sigh, and see her feet tilt back, her toes wiggling freely in the air. Your Father is a good man – a good husband. He's always looked after us, toiling harder than any other smith I know. Even in hard winters we've always ate, we've always had firewood and decent enough clothes on our back. He's no drunk, he's never raised a hand to either of us, which is more than can be said of some. All he's ever asked in return is a family that respects him. I know that we owe him that much yet... we fail him, time and time again. The bed creaked again, Kerren's feet flat against the ground once more. And you... both of us worry for you so often. You never smile any more. You used to talk so much, too. Now you go whole days without a word, like some light within you went out, and won't come back. Every time I see you, quiet and frowning... It hurts, Lavender, She breathed, barely more than a whisper. You must think I hate you so."

Lavender wished that she had some sort of answer, that she knew which words would make her Mother see that wasn't true, but there didn't seem to be any. Reaching out, she placed a hand round Kerren's ankle, anything to show her that she was still here - that she still cared.

Your Father wants to give you a last chance to show that you want to be a part of this family. He wants to forgive you, Lavender. Go and talk to him. Please.

Lavender pulled her hand back sharply, buried herself in her blanket, but she couldn't give up her only chance to make things right again. The shock of her Father's decision earlier – that he could be so close to simply disowning her – chilled her still. Slowly, she wormed her way loose of the blanket, crawled out from under her bed, and brought herself to her feet, breathing deeply to steady herself. Sat on the bed, her Mother looked across at her. They mirrored each other then, with their skin blotched and eyes red and bleary from crying. With a weak smile, she wrapped Lavender's hands in both of hers, and squeezed tightly.

You'll always be my daughter, no matter what happens, Kerren spoke, her words weighted with pride. The small nod Lavender gave in return didn't feel like enough; it never did.

I'm sorry, Lavender announced, forcing the words out from under the weary glare of her Father.

I know. What anger, what buried fury he had on his return home had turned into something else now, something sad and broken, and he sat, hunched, in his chair, unbound soot-blackened hair resting on his shoulders. If not for her, she thought, would he still be the same man she remembered from years ago, passionate and loving? Had years of enduring her turned him into this? You are always sorry.

I am, She pleaded. I promise.

Then why do you fight me? He erupted, continuing without giving time for her to answer. Because I do what is best for our family? Because I ask you to make the same sacrifices both I and your Mother have made? Because I forbid you to roam the forest whilst everyone else works? His hands slammed down on the arms of his chair, sending Lavender leaping back in fright. Do you think I enjoy being forced to starve my own daughter? Her Father's voice rose as much as it ever did when he was angry, and Lavender's head bowed reflexively as she clasped her hands behind her back and nodded in mute agreement, wishing for the moment his voice calmed and he sent her away.

The betrothal stands, He told her, his tone certain and without argument. You and Erkin will be wed on your fourteenth birthday. Then, as quickly as his anger rose, it fell, and he leaned back into his chair, his eyes still fixed on her. I remember when you loved me as I still love you. Before we fought. A clenched fist opened, holding the same silver ring Erkin had tried to give her, a tiny band in the centre of his massive hand. Lavender's heart stopped inside her chest at the sight of it; she understood what his forgiveness would require.

I know what this means to you, He spoke softly. I know how you cling to childhood, and fear to become a woman. He beckoned her forward with his other hand, but Lavender couldn't move. She couldn't take a step closer, she couldn't bear to have that thing on her, to be given, fully, to another. Her Father stood, and she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling his footsteps approach. If you have the love a daughter ought for her Father, you will honour what I have done for you.

She didn't resist as he lifted her hand and parted her fingers, nor dared to open her eyes as the smooth, warm metal slid over a fingertip, and found its place round one of the fingers of her right hand. She hung lifelessly as her Father lifted her off her feet, and held her close to his chest, whispering affectionately but too quietly for her to hear, her head cupped in one mighty hand. When he eventually set her down, she wobbled feebly, and found herself motioned off to her room to eat and sleep, cold plate of food in hand. Her mother sat there still, waiting patiently and wearing that same look of quiet pride she had when Lavender left. Without thought, she hid her right hand away; somehow the idea of anyone, even her Mother who already knew, seeing what had been done to her was even worse than how it felt on her finger, shame burning her cheeks. She sat sullenly next to Kerren, and forced herself to eat with her left hand, balancing the plate awkwardly as she tried to wield her knife, clumsily slicing her vegetables into smaller chunks. Cold, thick gravy covered food that no longer tasted of anything, but she wolfed it down just to quieten her stomach. Even its slimy texture seemed better to dwell upon than the band she could feel pressing around her finger, and she wondered if she would ever stop feeling it there, if she would ever be able to forget what it meant, or be able to pretend not to be bothered by it.

What you did was brave, Lavender, Kerren said eventually, as Lavender swallowed large mouthfuls of soggy pastry. She shook her head unhappily, knowing it couldn't be bravery. Bravery was strong and fearless, not wretched and weak and traded away. Awkwardly, she cleared as much of her plate as she could stomach, but felt no better for it, her whole body quivering with a weakness that was as much exhaustion as it was the pain of defeat. She had no more plans, no more schemes to avoid what she now knew was unavoidable, and always had been. Glancing up at her Mother, she did her best to seem strong, to feel brave despite it all but what little strength she had was utterly spent, if she ever had more than the idea of it to begin with. She all but collapsed into her Mother's waiting embrace, weeping inconsolably. With one arm wrapped around her, Kerren pulled Lavender close, into her warmth and her unwavering arms, and what little comfort they offered.

~

In the days that followed, time seemed to drift to a stop for Lavender. Each day stretched out longer than the one before, and somehow her list of chores managed to swell and fill the gap, no matter how quickly she rushed to finish them. It had been almost a week since the ring had been put on her, and she had not once been allowed outside in that time. She had blocked up her window with a pile of clothes so that she didn't have to see her favourite tree languishing outside without her; the first day in particular had been perfect for climbing and exploring. It had rained before dawn, and the forest beyond her home had a green richness to it that only came in spring, and even then only for a few weeks. She ached to sit amongst the leafy boughs of her favourite tree and gaze away into the heart of the forest, as the sound of rain beat down upon the canopy like the forest itself was roaring. Letting out a frustrated sigh, she pushed her thoughts down, and forced herself to continue stitching a tear she had made in one of her skirts. Unlike the first dull, worn green one she had inherited, this was a gentle white thing, with pink flowers embroidered along its hem. A bramble bush had snagged it as she tried to climb a nearby tree, much to Lavender's dismay – the other children in the village had laughed until their faces turned red the first time she had been forced out in a skirt, so she kept it secret that she thought this one at least was quite pretty. Later, her Mother had been keen to make clear that clothes neither sprang from the ground or fell from trees, and that unless she intended to wear rags, she would have to learn how to mend them. It was tedious work in her gloomy bedroom, and in the poor light she jabbed her finger even more than usual, scowling as she worked the bright green thread through the garment and hoping that once mended, the tear would look like the stem of a flower, rather than a fixed rip. Light crept in under the door, a small reminder that elsewhere in the house it was not yet midday. Kerren's footfalls busied themselves around the house; what distance there had been between them a week before seemed almost intimate now, though neither of them would admit it. Her Mother would put on the same face she always had, eager to seem pleased to see Lavender whenever she emerged from her room, but it was easy to tell how troubled she was. She had only once asked to see the ring, which pressed uncomfortably tight around Lavender's finger whenever she became more aware of it than usual. In response, she had pulled her sleeve over her hand as if hiding a wound, unable to look her Mother in the eye and quickly retreating back to her bedroom. Kerren's attempts at enthusiasm had melted away in the days that followed, as Lavender only left her room when chores and meals demanded. She had even stopped removing the pile of clothes that Lavender had placed against the window, though she still tutted and frowned at it whenever she intruded, placing herself on the door's boundary and peering inwards where Lavender sat.

The tear mended, Lavender picked herself up to present her work to her Mother. Kerren sat on the back doorstep and looked off outside in the direction of the old wall, near where Lavender's favourite tree stood alone at the edge of the forest. Turning an apple in her hand, she peeled it with a slim knife, eating the skin and dropping the naked fruit into a bowl on her lap. The sun had warmed the stone floor where it shone in, and Lavender's bare toes stretched out to soak up as much of it as they could before she returned to the shade of her room. She waited quietly for Kerren to finish with an apple, then passed the skirt to her as she stood, leaving the bowl on the step outside.

I will need some berries, She said with a hint of mischief whilst she examined Lavender's work. I think you know where to find some? Lavender shrugged, but said nothing. She knew where most of the good bushes were nearby, nestled over the old wall but just short of the brook that marked what she considered to be the true boundary of the forest. Past that point, the trees grew thick and the world was cast in green haze as sunlight pierced the leaves and branches high above. That was where she was meant to be, not tethered to some chore on its border, forced to look at what has been forbidden to her.

This is good work, Kerren said, raising an eyebrow. Lavender nodded, but slowly. Every inch of her wished that she could find a measure of happiness in her Mother's praise; that she could find something, anything, to replace her yearning to explore, to see what lay beyond the hills, but there was nothing.

I spent most of last winter making this for you, She spoke with warmth as she handed the skirt back to Lavender. A gift for my spring flower. I thought you hated it, the way you held it with your arms out, and trudged back to your room. I near fainted with shock to see you wearing it, your cheeks bright and rosy with your hands bunched up at your sides. I don't think I'd ever seen you so shy. She smiled slightly at the recollection, and at Lavender. For a moment, it looked to Lavender like she was about to say something else, and her distant smile wrestled with the pained look in her eyes.

It's my favourite one, Lavender said simply, just to ward off the uncomfortable silence that had made such a home for itself between them. Bolstered, Kerren grinned bashfully, the pain in her eyes moments before in full retreat, replaced with something Lavender couldn't quite make sense of, but at least seemed better.

Thank you, Kerren said eventually, her words soaked in a gratitude that baffled Lavender. She had done her every chore without complaint and it seemed her Mother barely noticed, but a single kind word about a year old gift released a joy within her that she hadn't seen come out in years. She sighed, inwardly. It didn't seem that there was ever any understanding her Mother.

As Lavender moved to return to her room and change out of the frayed grey skirt she wore into the altogether nicer fixed garment, Kerren pounced. She wrapped her arms around Lavender with a desperate force, squeezing her so close that she could hear her Mother's heart nearly beating out of her chest. She planted an endless succession of kisses on Lavender's increasingly bewildered head as she clung ever tighter, nearly forcing the breath from Lavender's lungs and then, just as quickly as she had reached out, she relented, holding her at arms length with her grin undiminished. She held there for a moment as if unsure what to do next, before awkwardly straightening under Lavender's stare.

I know how hard you try, Kerren blurted, stepping away with her arms clasped behind her back. And I know I don't deserve you or your Father, I know I've done so much wrong, made so many mistakes, and hurt you so much, but you still.... you still try, despite me. She paused for a moment, as if searching her mind for the right words. Thank you. I do know I don't deserve you, I do know, She settled for repeating, before drifting once again into silence.

Once Lavender's Mother had returned to peeling fruit on the step with a contented smile stuck on her face, Lavender ventured out onto the grassy patch that lay between her home and the old wall. The forest loomed up high and vast behind it, and she kept her eyes down as she flung a basket over the wall and scrambled up after it, dropping down on the other side next to where it landed. The chirping of birds mocked her from above as they flitted amongst the trees, and she tried her best to ignore them whilst she searched for a suitable bush to start with; one rich with fruit without being too spiny, so that she might avoid cutting her arms and adding fresh tears to her clothes. She set her basket on a mossy stump nearby a good spot – the raspberries of this bush were bright and ripe, and she allowed herself to eat a few to distract her from the forest which lay out all around her. Gloved hands made the work clumsy, and in the warm spring air she knew her fingers would sweat and stink inside them. It was still better than seeing that thing on her finger every time she plucked a berry, though. As ever, her stomach knotted at the thought of it, and she curled her toes uncomfortably, allowing herself another berry.

Good morning, A voice called out from the wall behind her as she reached for a cluster of raspberries. She froze. What was he doing here?

I didn't think it would be so easy to find you, Erkin continued cheerily. Good of you to wear something that stood out.

She forced herself to continue, ignoring him and placing the berries into her basket.

We've done this bit already, He sighed. I'm not going anywhere. He went silent for a moment, but Lavender still said nothing, scowling deeply to herself at his presence. Can I have some? He asked. She rolled her eyes and pointed at another bush.

You can eat the bruised ones. Put the good ones in the basket.

Without complaint, Erkin dropped off the wall and wandered over. Lavender watched from the corner of her eye as he placed himself next to the bush she had pointed out and started to work, diligently sorting the berries into the basket and eating the ones which looked damaged. Hiding her surprise and pretending not to notice, she moved to another bush slightly further away, taking great care to ensure that she could still watch whilst seeming to turn away. She hadn't thought the Elder's son would actually sit and gather berries with her. He was meant to... she wasn't sure what he was meant to do, but it wasn't this.

I haven't seen you in the village for a week, He mentioned. "And the trapper hasn't seen you in the forest, and your Father has been in a better mood than I've known since I was first apprenticed. In fact, I think this might be the first time he has sent me away with words, rather than just hanging his head and pointing at the door. Any idea why?" He was doing it again, trying to tease the answer to a pointless question out of her, one he almost certainly knew the answer of to begin with.

Father forbade me, She found herself answering. I respect his wishes.

Why? She stole a glance at him. There was no sign of amusement on his face that she could see, nothing to suggest he might be anything other than curious.

I should be learning to keep a home, not climbing trees, She flatly recited, using the words her Father would scold her with. They sounded empty to her, delivered without even a shadow of the conviction he spoke with.

You don't believe that, Said Erkin. Lavender swallowed uncomfortably, snapping a branch and dropping it into the basket. She could sort the berries in her room, without Erkin's questions.

That's enough. Thank you, She said quickly, picking the basket up and moving speedily towards the old wall, only barely holding herself back from running.

No, stay! He called after her, scrambling to his feet. Please! Despite herself, she stopped, tiptoeing to place the basket on top of the wall, and slowly turning to face him. If she didn't want to hear any more she could be over the wall in a few seconds, and it was only quick dash from there back home to the safety of her room.

I thought we could get to know each other. I told your Mother I wanted to take you to see my Father – introduce you. That should allow us the rest of the day for you to show me around the forest. He gave Lavender a conspiratorial look, smirking slightly. In an instant, Lavender was perched on top of the wall, sat where Erkin had been just minutes ago.

I want to spend it at home, She said weakly.

No you don't. Erkin straightened, beckoning her back with one hand outstretched. And I don't want to be wed to a stranger.

She stared down at Erkin.

I can't.

He wrinkled his nose at that, tilting his head.

Why not?

It hurts too much, Lavender mumbled. I want to forget I ever loved it.

Like a shot, Erkin rushed forward, pulling himself up next to her.

Then we'll make a deal. The two of us. Whenever your Father sends me away I'll come find you. You can show me your forest, go wherever you please. Neither your Mother or Father needs to be any the wiser, and you won't have to forget, because you'll be right amongst it, where you should be.

What do you get? She asked suspiciously.

A reason not to go home and have my Father howl himself hoarse at me for not enjoying hitting red hot metal with a hammer all day. A chance to get to know the girl I've just been told I've to spend the rest of my life with. He shrugged. A friend, if I'm lucky. Does it matter?

Lavender went silent, staring out towards the brook that bubbled quietly in the distance. How could it be right that the man she had been offered to would sit with her and promise her own forest to her like it was a kindness? And yet... how was she meant to say no? She felt her body lock tight, filled to the brim with how much she hated him. He reached out his hand to her, giving her a sideways look and a stupid smirk. He knew she couldn't say no, she realised. He would make her give herself away, piece by piece, traded for things that didn't even belong to him. And she would do it, she knew glumly, if it meant she had her forest back.

Deal? He offered. Lavender slouched forward, looking down where her feet dangled in the air. She held a limp hand in Erkin's direction; her skin beneath the glove crawled as he took her hand and shook it, but she forced herself to hide her disgust, masking it with meek indifference.

Good! He clapped. So where first?

Once she had returned the berries to her Mother, Lavender led Erkin into the forest. He lumbered behind her like she was leading a bear, filling the air with the sound of snapping branches and heavy footsteps where he struggled to find his footing on the lumpy ground. She allowed herself a moment of satisfaction to listen to how much he struggled already, and the forest floor had yet to tangle up with bramble bushes and exposed roots. No smile settled on her lips. That was a habit she'd broken a long time ago, and she barely remembered how it was done.

This way, She told him as they made their way towards the brook. With practised ease she found some suitable rocks and jumped between them, landing easily on the other bank before gesturing for Erkin to follow as she had. She hoped he made a good splash when he slipped. With a quick nod to her he charged towards the edge and cleared the brook in a leap. He landed heavily, stumbling as he came to a stop, but entirely less drenched than he should have been. Lavender shot him a ferocious look, hiding it the instant he looked up at her. She had tried to leap the brook before, and had clambered out soaked through. It had been the middle of autumn then, and she spent the rest of the day in front of the fireplace as Kerren pulled rotting leaves from her hair and clothes, and the rest of the season in bed sneezing to herself.

I wouldn't have pulled you out if you'd fallen, She said.

Careful, Lavender, he warned. Keep talking and we might end up having a conversation.

She jammed her mouth shut and glared at him in answer, which only made him laugh outright. Stepping past him, she refused to indulge his laughter and carried on into the forest itself, stopping next to a tree only long enough to make sure that he was following before she sprang off.

Hurry up! She called back to him as she picked the narrowest path she could find. Erkin was so slow that she wondered if she would ever get anywhere with him in tow; if that was the case she might at least have some fun out of him, and she looked back to see him try and squeeze his over-big body through gaps between the trees. Most of the forest wasn't so packed, the trees reaching out with long branches as if to shove away any neighbours, but some parts, where the earth had shifted in heavy storms and the trees had managed to stay upright and unbroken – or mostly unbroken – brought them close together, hemmed in by large rocks or steep earth banks. She pulled herself up on top of one of these banks, finding her footing where a few gnarled old roots poked out, all that remained of a tree that must have been torn apart years ago. Below and behind her, Erkin finally caught up, groaning loudly as he looked up to where she had climbed.

I'm not coming up there! He called out.

You don't have to, She snapped back, looking out further into the forest. I'm looking for something interesting.

Like what? He asked. She didn't bother answering, making a show of staring out in every direction before climbing back down, hanging over the edge of the bank and dropping down next to Erkin.

Deer, She answered. Sometimes make their home here in the spring before the trapper comes and chases them away. I've never got close to them before. You're loud enough to do his work for him, so keep quiet, She added pointedly, scowling up at him.

They're nearby? Asked Erkin excitedly. Lavender held a finger to her lips and glared, until Erkin's eyes widened and he mouthed a silent 'Oh...' at her. Cautiously, she led him round the bank as it jutted up from the ground, and down a gentle slope that led away from the brook and deep into the forest. She winced every time he hit a snag or stumbled on a root, throwing out a startled yelp before choking it back and giving her an apologetic look, his lips drawn tight and his eyebrows upturned. How he managed to be so clumsy was beyond her. She had no trouble balancing with her hands full bunching up the loose fabric of her skirt, and couldn't reach out to balance with her arms like he could, and yet he tripped like someone had coated his boots in butter.

You can talk, if you're quiet, Lavender whispered. It hardly mattered. If he hadn't scared the deer off already then a little whispering wasn't likely to startle them.

Where are they? Erkin asked, wobbling as his foot slipped on a mossy stone. He turned in a circle, searching for any sign of them. To Lavender, their presence was obvious – the long grass of the hill had been stripped down to