CHAPTER ONE
The alley behind the farrier’s barn is the perfect location for meetings of the clandestine variety. A weeping willow grows right behind a tool shed, blocking the view of the street, and an old cart with a broken wheel and a busted tongue sits on the other side, creating the perfect cover.
With a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one has spotted me, I slip behind the barn.
Peter leans against the wagon. His long, lean body is relaxed, and a lazy smile stretches across his face as soon as he sees me.
There isn’t a girl in Torina who doesn’t walk by his father’s shop several times a week, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Even Anneliese, my flighty, impulsive younger sister, notices him despite the gap in their ages.
I’m old enough to court the apprentice tailor—but I’m more than happy to let the other girls have him.
“You’re late,” Peter murmurs as he loops an arm around my waist, playfully pulling me close and moving in to steal a kiss. “I have to be back soon, or Father will have my head.”
I’m never late, not ever. I always arrive exactly when I plan to. Whether that coincides with other people’s schedules is another matter entirely.
“Peter, get off,” I say, laughing as I shove him away.
We’ve been friends since the time he and I stole his snooty sister’s favorite bonnet and placed it on their family’s prize pig. She was livid; it was beautiful.
I was six at the time. Peter must have been eight. I’m eighteen now, so we’ve been a duo for twelve years…and forbidden from seeing each other for two, going on three.
Father says Peter’s a “good-for-nothing” and a “bad influence.” I say Peter’s the only person in this dull city who knows how to keep things interesting.
“When do you have to be back to the shop?” I ask him as soon as he unhands me.
He grimaces, his handsome face contorting in a way that makes me smile. “Soon. Lady Milia has requested a gown for the early summer ball.”
“That’s in less than a week!”
“She pays well.” He shrugs. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in days. Do your parents have you on animal duty again?”
I lean against the building and huff out a frustrated breath. “Father is making noise about finding me a husband now that Rynn and Eva are married.”
Peter frowns, not liking that at all. “What are you going to do?”
“I have no idea.”
He joins me by the barn, and his shoulder rests comfortably next to mine. “Do you want to get married, Sophie?”
His tone is off, not Peter-like at all. I turn my head and find him staring at me with the strangest look on his face. “Yes, I suppose. But not to anyone Father chooses.”
Shoving a shoulder against the splintering boards, Peter shifts to stand in front of me. He rests a hand on the barn next to my head and leans toward me in a way he’s never done before.
I watch him, startled and frankly, a little disconcerted. We’ve played before, but he’s never looked at me like this.
“Marry me,” he says, his eyes searching mine.
“Peter,” I try to nudge him away like I think he’s playing again—though I know very well he’s not.
He grins, finding amusement in my discomfort. “I mean it. Let’s get married. We’ll run away from this dull city, find adventure together. Picture it, Sophie.” He holds up his hand in a dramatic fashion. “The two of us, slaying trolls in Elsland, perhaps searching for mermaids off the coast of Caladonia.”
I gulp, unsure how to answer. The adventure part sounds lovely…but there’s one problem. Peter’s only an apprentice tailor, and I have no skills to speak of. How would we make a living? I’m afraid I’m used to a comfortable life, and anything less sounds…well, uncomfortable.
There’s also the tiny problem that I’m not, and never will be, in love with Peter. Do not misunderstand—I love him dearly. But not like that. I’ve seen him break far too many hearts to ever give him mine.
I’m opening my mouth to object when he cuts me off, his eyes shining. “Before you say no, let me kiss you, just once. How else will we know, Sophie?”
Instead of butterflies, I get a mild case of indigestion. Boys are fun to flirt with, and some are certainly nice to look at, but I’ve never found one I want to get close to.
“Come on,” he murmurs, already moving in. “Just one kiss.”
“Peter, you are the worst sort of cad,” I say, but I don’t push him away this time.
It might be magical. He’s right—how will I know if we never try?
“All right. Go on.” I clench my eyes closed, waiting with dread.
Instead of a kiss, I’m answered with a laugh. “You look like a frog, Sophie. Relax.”
Immediately irritated, my eyes fly open. I’m about to say something scathing, but Peter moves in, and his mouth meets mine.
And it’s fine, I suppose. He smells nice enough—like the lavender his mother uses in her soap. His lips are soft but firm, and he certainly knows what to do with them.
It’s not unpleasant. I could do it again if I had to. Maybe this is it. Maybe Peter and I are supposed to be together.
He backs up, meeting my eyes. “Well?”
“You’re very practiced,” I say wryly, earning a bright smile from him.
“Marry me, Sophie. Let’s run away together.”
I think about it for several long seconds, and then I nod. “Yes, all right. But it will have to be soon.”
Peter grins and yanks me against him, kissing me again.
“Sophia!” a man bellows.
Peter and I leap apart, and my eyes widen in surprise when I find Father on our side of the willow tree, looking angrier than I’ve ever seen him.
And to be honest, I’ve made him angry plenty of times, so he must be livid.
I smooth a wrinkle in my sleeve. “Hello, Father.”
Someone must have seen me.
Peter gulps, looking properly terrified.
Father bristles at my nonchalant tone and levels me with a stare that could curdle milk. “Peter and I are going to have a discussion. You will go home. Now.” He narrows his eyes. “And Sophia—”
He’s using my full name—that’s never a good sign.
“—if you’re not there when I arrive, so help me…”
It takes me precisely twenty-three minutes to walk to our manor. It takes Father thirty-one. Which means I have at least eight minutes to track down the sorry sibling who tattled on me before he arrives.
I shoot Peter an apologetic look and turn toward the street. If I hurry, I can likely shave several minutes off the walk.
As I silently seethe, I debate which one it was. My older sisters, Rynn and Eva, used to be my first choices, but Rynn is in Farthendale and Eva’s busy setting up her new home.
That leaves my younger siblings. Elisette usually has her pretty nose buried in a book, so I doubt it was her. Besides, she rarely wanders the streets. She tends to attract suitors, though she doesn’t have much use for them.
Elisette’s twin, Martin, wouldn’t care enough to say anything, and Penny’s not the tattling sort.
That leaves Anneliese.
I throw open the front gate, startling several chickens. They flap about, squawking in the most obnoxious way. I cannot stand our ridiculous assortment of animals. Not only do they smell, but they’re messy and time-consuming to tend.
My family has money—plenty of it—yet my parents insist we keep livestock on the grounds like we’re common country folk. It’s humiliating. I’ll gladly marry Peter, just to escape it.
A goat looks up, blinking his glassy eyes at me as he slowly chews a mouthful of fencepost. I glare at him and march up the front steps.
“Anneliese!” I yell as soon as I’m through the doors.
My voice echoes through the halls, startling a scraggly cat Rynn brought home several years ago. It’s an awful beast, and ugly as a creature can be. She glares at me from around the bookcase, probably plotting my death.
Elisette appears on the landing, book in hand. “What’s the matter?”
“Did you tell Father I was with Peter?” I demand.
“You were with Peter?” She blinks at me with disbelieving green eyes—like she simply cannot believe I could be foolish enough to continue seeing the tailor’s son. “After Father forbid it?”
“Yes.” I wince, not wanting to admit the next part, but I must tell someone. “He kissed me.”
“You let Peter kiss you?” she says, aghast. “Did you have to wait in line?”
It would be funny, but I’m not sure it’s a joke.
She’s about to jump into one of her lectures, and I hastily say before she can begin, “Never mind. I know Liesa told Father. Tell me where she is.”
“I haven’t seen her.”
I yell for Anneliese again, and this time Penny makes an appearance. My youngest sister walks down the stairs, as calm as you please, until she’s in front of me. She and Anneliese are twins, and they are almost perfectly identical. Penny, however, has unusual, but striking, amethyst eyes. I personally think she’s prettier than Anneliese, but that’s probably because Anneliese is a snotty, attention-hungry brat.
“She’s not here,” Penny says, but whether that’s the truth or she’s just protecting her twin again, I have no idea.
Before I can interrogate her further, Father storms through the doors. I turn to him, my mouth agape. For him to make it back this quickly, he must have practically run.
“Sophia, into my study.” He marches past me without another word.
“That’s not good,” Elisette says, and then she winces when I glare at her.
I follow Father, resigning myself for another lecture.
As soon as I’m in the study, he slams the door and stalks to his desk. “This is the final straw, Sophia. You’re getting married.”
“I know.” I straighten my spine, preparing for the argument. “I’m going to marry Peter. We talked about it before you arrived.”
My chest tightens in the most uncomfortable way, but I ignore the sensation. I can marry Peter—there’s no one I like more.
Father narrows his eyes and all but ignores me. “I finalized the arrangements yesterday. Milton asked for your hand, and I have spent the last few days speaking with him and his parents.” His eyes soften. “They’re good people, Sophie. Milton will take care of you—you’ll live a comfortable life.”
“Milton is a farmer!” I exclaim, past horrified.
“He is a landowner,” Father snaps. “He is a good man, who makes an honest living.”
I don’t care if Milton’s a good man. He smells like sheep, and his hair sticks up in all directions, making him resemble a scarecrow.
“I won’t marry him,” I swear.
Father narrows his eyes. “This is not up for discussion, Sophia. I was willing to let you find a good match on your own, but time after time you’ve proven yourself to be less responsible than your older sisters.”
My stomach clenches when I realize he’s serious.
“Please don’t do this,” I beg.
“It’s already done. We’ll make the announcement in the morning.”
I try to breathe, but it’s as if the air isn’t there. My lungs ache; my world spins. It’s happening too fast, and I don’t see how I can talk Father out of it by morning. The noose is around my neck, and soon, it will be too late.
We have no choice. Peter and I must leave.
Tonight.