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Night swept over the forest. Owls called out a beautiful, ghostly sound. No bugs tittered in the trees, the night almost entirely silent except for an animal hunting in the dark, the owls, and a lonely hunter snapping twigs and tossing them into the crackling fire. Only mere inches away from his boots, the warmth sank into him.
From this vantage point, with his back against a giant spruce tree and the firelight illuminating the grove where he camped, Blaez could see everything he needed to see. But nothing out here would harm him; he spent half his life hunting in these woods. Every life he took, he offered thanks as he put it out of its misery. The pain of watching a terrified animal look at him for help when he was the cause of its suffering never sat right with him. But he needed food and clothing, and not a single part of any animal killed went to waste: marrow for soup, bones for fertilizer and fashioned into trinkets and jewelry to sell, pelts for warmth during the long, cold winters in Ocleau.
Blaez reached his hand up to his cheek, feeling the faint scratches with the calloused pads of his fingers. They were almost healed. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward and rubbed his chest with his hands to keep warm, then hoisted a large bear pelt over his body. In a few days, he would return to his homestead with a surplus of items for Ana to use and sell to keep her happy. To keep her occupied.
Running his hand over his bearded face, Blaez shut his eyes tight. He didn’t want to go home. He could barely call that place home. It was never his; he had never been welcomed there. He was a guest, no matter how often he patched the holes in the roof or reinforced the walls so they would not fall to ruin. Returning to Ocleau was something he dreaded so deeply that he considered never going back. But he had already been gone for over a week, the longest he had ever been. His return could not be delayed any longer.
A war went on inside his chest—a battle within his heart for what he knew was right and for what he wanted. While he knew returning home would lead to more abuse, he couldn’t stop loving Ana, no matter how hard he tried. When he fell in love with her, he sensed that she possessed a dark side, but he never expected it to come out the way it did. They met shortly after her parents died of a vicious plague that had run rampant through the town, slimming a population already decimated by a brutal winter. Blaez understood her circumstances but thought asking her hand in marriage would have been taking advantage of her situation.
When Ana suggested the idea, he agreed, not just to help her, but because he’d fallen helplessly in love with her. In the beginning, she showed affection only when she wanted to. Blaez couldn’t help but notice she lacked something that would have allowed her to love him in return. No matter what he offered—space, fine jewelry, to be at her beck and call—it was never enough. It was as though she looked for something in him that he would never have.
She laid with him on her terms, which Blaez accepted. To show he loved her and wanted the best for her, he never pushed anything on her. But after some time, they knew that she could not bear children, which Blaez had hoped might bring out that missing piece of her. When he asked her about it, she agreed to try other methods to increase their chances of getting pregnant.
Blaez thought it was he who could not give her what she wanted. Until the miscarriage. It was then that Blaez sought out a young woman adept in healing. With long brown hair that was board-straight and green eyes that shone like grass on a spring day, she promised an answer to their problem. She was very young at the time, at most fifteen, but she was confident in her skills. At a cost that forced Blaez to nearly break his back with work to make up for it, he returned with an herbal tea that would help Ana conceive.
Blaez never wanted a family; he didn’t want to raise children, but he would do anything for her.
Ana never took it. That was when he realized she never wanted a child. Not with him, at the very least. She grew cold and mean, first with her words, then her fists. He took the abuse because that was what he was meant to do: help her through her pain. But it never stopped. It just developed into an unbridled fury.
Being barren broke something further inside her. When Ana took it out on him, Blaez hoped it would help. Whatever made her feel something, whatever she needed to do to feel better, he would weather that storm, no matter how much it made him ache. Not physically, though he had bruises and scratches from some of the worst days. Mentally, it shattered him.
This time was the last time.
“You are useless,” she snapped at him a week ago. “Our sow died because you forgot to bring her in.”
There was no sense in arguing. It had been his fault. But something came up from his core, bubbling to the surface. “You could have done it, Ana. I cannot be responsible for everything in this house.”
“It’s my house,” she snapped back, stepping up to him. She was small but unbalanced rage burned behind her eyes.
“So, you should help,” he replied, raising his voice unintentionally. Something burned behind his eyes too; he was tired of being blamed for all her problems. He was not the root of her issues; those started long before they met.
“I let you live here—I let you have my father’s roof over your head. You should be groveling; you should be thankful and grateful for what I give you.” She shoved him.
He barely budged, infuriating her.
“What would you have without me?” she screeched.
“Peace,” he growled back at her.
She slashed at him with her nails, reaching for his hair.
Blaez stepped back, yanking himself free.
Wavering, she calculated whether to go for him again. He raised his lip with a growl, and she mimicked him. Without another word, he left the house. He didn’t know what he would do if he stayed. He hated the realization that he despised Ana.
A spark flew from the fire and landed on his trousers, snapping him from his thoughts. He realized he’d been fingering the light scratches on his face again, and he knew what he must do. Being with Ana brought out the worst in her, and letting her take it out on him only enabled her to transfer her anger onto him instead of facing what troubled her head-on.
Blaez understood they were not meant to be together. Despite that, he debated leaving her, knowing she would lose the land and her home. Blaez didn’t want her land; he would leave Ocleau and ensure that the land was hers entirely if it was possible, but the law stated no woman could own land. Ana’s only option if he left was to become a matron at the orphanage, the sentence for every impoverished woman in the village, or to live life as a vagabond. He had stayed for her, knowing she was using him. Now, he would leave for himself.
Though he still loved her, Blaez decided that he had to leave because he hated her.
22
SILVANIA
THE YEAR OF THE MOON
SORIN
