Page 66 of Forged in Fading

“Now that I think about it, it may have only been a few days, but it felt like forever. And then there was this one time⁠—”

Alvara patted her friend’s back. “Thank you, Kat. What we’re trying to say is he means well. He’s done things for me that many people I know wouldn’t have. He’s your brother, Lilja. Just talk to him. I’m sure he would understand.”

Lilja’s eyes gleamed. “You two sound very close.”

Alvara snorted. “Boden and I are not close.”

“For someone you’re not close to, you sure seem to be willing to defend him,” Lilja said as she tossed her long hair over her shoulder.

Oh gods, she had been defending Boden, hadn’t she? Alvara did not like the turn this conversation had taken. “That’s beside the point⁠—”

“Is it?” Kat shared a look with Lilja that only spelled trouble.

Alvara felt like a teacher trying to control a class of younglings. “Yes, it is. Talk to your brother, Lilja. His desire to keep you safe is written in his blood, but I also know he wants you to be happy.”

So did Alvara. She saw small pieces of herself in Lilja’s struggle to adapt to a new life and even larger pieces of Eloisa in her vibrancy and her desire to make something of herself. Or maybe Alvara just wanted to assuage her own guilt for telling Lilja that Boden hadn’t wanted her to train at all.

Whatever the reason, she skipped dinner and instead hovered at the edges of the market. She had just begun to convince herself this was all a foolish idea when Ilona, the spice vendor, waved her down.

“Alvara!”

Damn it, she had been spotted and couldn’t leave now. She did her best to mirror the vendor’s warm smile as she approached her stall.

“Back for more?”

Alvara shook her head—she had been using the kardevar in her food, but she was nowhere near needing more.

Ilona’s face faltered. “I was very sorry to hear about Vorianta.”

Alvara shifted on her feet, unable to look the female in the eye. “Me too.” She drew a shaky breath and looked past the vendor to the other stalls. Would anyone here even sell goods from Ela? With war brewing, it seemed unlikely.

Ilona followed her line of sight. “Looking for something?”

“I have an odd request. Do you know if any of the other vendors sell seeds?”

“For what?” Ilona asked as she rearranged a handful of vials and bottles.

Like she had any clue. Alvara had never grown a thing in her life. “Flowers? That sort of thing.”

“Ah. Well, as you can guess, the elves here don’t have much of an affinity for growing things that remind them of King Einar.” Ilona tapped a finger to her nose. “But you might have luck with Havur. He came from Ela and runs a farm on the outskirts of the city. They supply most of the vegetables to the food hall. Helps keep us fed during dalvi.”

After reciting the directions to the farm ten times to herself, Alvara thanked her and followed the taunting scent of honey to a neighboring stall, where she snagged a loaf of sweet bread for the walk.

With only the half-eaten loaf of bread to accompany her, Alvara wove through the city toward the sprawling lands beyond. The days were exceedingly short at this time of year, and she needed to maintain a quick pace if she hoped to be back before nightfall.

Alvara’s limbs sagged from exhaustion when a large farm finally came into view, with little sign of life except for the noises of the livestock. She tugged her shirt over her nose to block out the awful stench and hurried to the door of the small home.

It only took a single knock before quiet shuffles sounded from inside. An elf, at least three hundred, swung the door open and smiled, accentuating the plentiful wrinkles on his tanned skin. Probably from decades, if not centuries, spent in the sun.

“Can I help you?”

What was she doing here? Asking a farmer for seeds for someone she hardly knew? But it was too late to turn back now. “Do you by chance have any seeds I could buy? Maybe for flowers?”

He nodded and headed back inside, and Alvara lingered at the door. “Come in,” he said from somewhere inside the house. “You’ll catch a cold waitin’ out there.”

The setting of the sun had chilled the air, so she didn’t argue. Alvara wandered down the entry hall, where a mix of dried and fresh blooms in every color of the rainbow hung all over the walls in thin vases.

She followed the rhythmic tread of footsteps and what sounded like the crackle of fire and ended up in the kitchen with who was likely the farmer’s seluri.