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It is a hard thing to admit, but I let the confession flow as freely as water. “My gram has never told me anything about my lineage. I’ve asked so many times, and each question is met with silence or a lecture about how my heritage doesn’t define me. Gram doesn’t understand my longing to know, my need to know where I truly belong. It is a cruelty, keeping my lineage from me.”
Master Burgess lifts the broom from against the wall, then leans on it as if pondering every question life holds. “You know, maybe your gram not telling you isn’t a cruelty at all. Maybe she’s protecting you from something.”
Protecting me fromsomething?
“So,” he continues, “you did a fine job with the cleaning, Milla. Mighty fine. Wait here while I fetch your payment.”
His words swirl in my head. Why has this observation never occurred to me? Could it be possible that Gram is simply protecting me—from our family?How can that be?
Master Burgess pulls me from my thoughts. “Here you go, Milla. All plucked and ready for the flame.” He hands me a cleaned duck and a fistful of matches.
“Oh, you are too kind. This is too generous for simply sweeping—”
“Nonsense. You and your gram enjoy the duck. You’ve definitely earned it.”
I put the duck in my large pouch and the matches in my pocket. It’s hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. Words are even harder to form, but I manage somehow. “Thank you, Master Burgess. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder, his glassy eyes nearly as bright as the white of his beard. “Milla, my dear, I’m flattered, but you may need to find new friends.”
We both laugh, needing the frivolity in the moment. I thank him again, hitch my pouch on my shoulder, and set out toward home. I walk two streets down and hear it.
“Milla.”
The voice is behind me. And I know it’s Jordy.
“Do you need help with that?” He catches up to me and takes hold of my pouch. “I can carry that for you, my lady.”
I allow him to take the pouch and accept his elbow when he extends it, tucking my hand in the crook of his arm.
“So, do you plan to meet me every morrow and carry my pouch when I’m peddling my wares?” I wink. “Not very practical, aye, my lord? How will you work in the bakery?”
His lips graze my cheek. “All right, not every morrow, but I can carry it for now.”
I sigh and lean my cheek on his arm. “Thank you, my lord.”
We stroll silently for a few moments, the chill in the air not nearly as sharp since the sun decided to make an appearance when the clouds forgot it is nearly winter. I love the feeling of being so near Jordy, him holding me close to his side as we walk. He glances at me.
“Milla, are you planning to attend the harvest dance on morrow’s night?”
He’s asking me to the dance!My heart’s racing faster than a runaway stallion. “Why, Jordy, you’re the second gentleman to ask me that very same question today.”
He stops to face me, his eyes wide and searching. “Someone else asked you to the dance? Who? What did you say?”
I stand on my tiptoes to be nearer his face, a smile I can’t contain spreading across my lips. “I’m teasing you, silly goose. Master Burgess asked if I was going, but he wasn’t inquiring to take me.” I lean even nearer his lips. “Are you inquiring to escort me to the dance, kind sir?”
“Well, the only way I’ll attend is if you’re by my side, so yes. Milla, may I escort you to the dance?”
His words are music. The moment, perfection.
“Yes, Jordy, I would be delighted.”
He lifts the back of my hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on top of it. “I’m glad Master Burgess was only jesting about taking you. I’m sure if he had been serious, you would’ve chosen him over me.”
I giggle and lightly punch his arm. We continue towards my cottage to the sound of bird song and the breeze. We near the middle of market square, and Jordy stops stone still. Sudden shouting breaks our tranquility.
“I challenge you to a duel!”
“But, sir, I’m begging you! It was an accident. I didn’t see you.”
