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I scoffed. It seemed like a small thing compared to this, and it made me realize that there was so much more happening beneath the surface, things I still couldn’t anticipate or see.
But that’s life,I realized. You either swayed with it like a current or you fought it until it drowned you.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
“Don’t apologize to me,” Lorik said, frowning.
It was then I knew he still hadn’t forgiven himself, even thoughIhad.
“I’m still sorry,” I said, squeezing his hand. “I can’t help how I feel.”
And I knew that the mark brought him shame. He would carry it for the rest of his life—a constant reminder of what he’d done, even though he’d only wanted to help with people, his sister.
It wasn’t fair.
But nothing ever was. Lorik had been right about that.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
It was market day once more. A whole moon cycle had passed since the last, the evening that Veras had told me that Lorik was a Sever—a Kelvarian from the Below. The evening I’d learned the truth.
It felt like a lifetime ago in some ways. Yet it had passed in the blink of an eye.
But much had changed since. I marveled that I’d gone to countless market days in the last ten years and each one had felt the same. This one? It couldn’t feel any different.
For once, I smiled and waved at the vendors as I passed, many I’d spoken to in the village at least once in the last month. Eymaris came up to my stall to chat as I unpacked my potions, all healing salves and potions to help with sleep since the death needle crop had been bountiful this season.
And during the market itself, Griffel and Salladar and Winnand, families of patients I’d treated, shopkeepers I’d sent business to, and even fellow healers from the guild all passed by to talk, looking over my potions or dropping off their old bottles to me from the previous market days, which I appreciated. Many brought me gifts—food from one of the vendors, a bundle ofwinter flowers, a neatly wrapped package of thick socks. I was surprised and touched by the generosity.
I found that the market day flew by because of the people. The friends I’d begun to make in Rolara. Everyone seemed in great spirits—not even the snowfall and the icy chill in the air could dampen it. The music seemed more vibrant, traveling across the cold air more swiftly, and the heat and press of bodies felt more welcome.
And I realized thatI’ddone this. I’d created this for me. This sense of belonging in Rolara. This sense of community.
If I’d hidden myself away in the Black Veil this last month, like I always had, this market day wouldn’t have felt so special.
By the time it was growing dark, my throat hurt from talking and laughing with passing villagers and neighboring vendors. Not even the sight of Veras dampened my spirits. I’d nodded at him without prompting, and he’d tipped his chin down, going on his way.
And just as I began to pack up my cart, I caught sight of Lorik.
My breath seized in my lungs, anticipation giving my heart a rough jolt.
I wondered how long he’d been watching me, but he was leaning back against the apothecary shop, his usual place during market days, and his eyes were pinned on me, a small smile playing across his lips.
For a moment, it was like we’d gone back in time. To before I’d even known his name. He had his glamour on, of course, since we were in the village, but a part of me wished I could seehim. His true self. I wished the others could too.
I saw the long looks cast his way, but he paid people no mind as they skirted around him. He was only looking at me, his arms crossed over his chest, his pose relaxed and at ease.
After that night in my cottage, I’d seen him twice more and only very briefly. He’d been called back to the Below. We’d leftusup in the air, an unspoken thing after what we’d discussed. About his crime marking, about the Below, about my thoughts of giving up my cottage.
There was still so much to discuss, so much to figure out—how this would even work. If itcouldeven work.
Especially since I knew Lorik still hadn’t forgiven himself. Forgiveness had always been a difficult thing for me, given my past with Veras. With Lorik…I’d found forgiveness came easily. The same couldn’t be said for him.
When I was finally alone, Lorik pushed away from the building of the apothecary and strode over to me, his footsteps strong and certain, and I counted every single one because they matched my heartbeat.
“Popular little witch,” he murmured, his voice dipped low so the neighboring vendor couldn’t eavesdrop. “I’ve been trying to get you alone all evening.”
