My heart thumped in my chest as I walked from my bedroom to the large room that held the living room, dining area, and kitchen. The ceiling was curved overhead, cut into the gray stone of mountain, with triangular windows looking out toward the path curving down to the square. Sheer curtains flapped in the open windows, keeping out most of the dust but letting in fresh air. Guilt twisted my gut again when I spotted the bunch of thistles in a vase under one of the windows. Juliette tried so hard to make our shabby dwelling look nice while my father did nothing to help, and I used every excuse to stay away as much as I could.
Even though the room didn’t smell like fish—courtesy of my father missing work the day before—the scent of the open bottle of fermented algae mingled with the savory smells of baking. I wrinkled my nose as I spotted the lump that was my father flopped across the couch, his bare feet dangling over one end and a scratchy blanket covering the rest of him. Only his unkept, sandy brown hair poked above the covers. My sister had no doubt covered him when she’d gotten up to bake. I could imagine her tiptoeing around the kitchen, trying to mix her batters while not waking him. If he did wake, he wouldn’t be grateful that his youngest daughter made enough money with her talent to make up for his lousy and sporadic pay. He would yell at her for being too loud.
I scowled as I thought about his raised voice echoing off the stone of our dwelling, then I spotted the plate of bread on the stone counter, and my anger melted away, replaced by a swell of affection for my little sister. She hadn’t forgotten me or decided to punish me.
“Thank you, Juliette,” I whispered, snatching one of the golden rolls of bread and taking a greedy bite.
Walking on the toes of my boots, I passed my father without giving him another glance and ducked out the front door. When I was safely outside our dwelling, I polished off the rest of the bread, savoring the pillowy roll as I headed down toward the square. The suns were higher now and mine weren’t the only footsteps on the stone path as I rushed around a corner.
“Sienna!”
I grabbed the cloaked figure’s arms to keep from knocking her over. Even with the hood shadowing her face, I would know that voice anywhere. “Hey, Juliette.”
She threw back her hood and eyed me. “Where are you going?”
I glanced down at her empty basket and tried to change the subject. “You sold out already?”
Even though blonde curls framed her heart-shaped face, she looked anything but angelic at the moment. “Please tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.” I held her gaze with just as much intensity as she held mine.
Finally, she let out a sigh. “You can’t be serious, Sienna.”
“Why not?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Just because I’m a female? It’s ridiculous. I’ll bet I can fight better than half those boys.”
Juliette’s blue eyes didn’t waver, but she lowered her voice as she glanced around. “Probably, but that doesn’t matter. You know what the ministers would say—not to mention our father.”
I let out an indignant huff. “He doesn’t get a say in what I do. I’ll bet the man doesn’t even know how old I am.”
“He knows you’re old enough to get married.”
I glared at her. This again? “I’ve told you. I’m not marrying Donal just because everyone else wants me to.”
“But you know what will happen if you reject the son of an important minister.” Juliette glanced at the nearest set of windows and pulled me farther away from them.
I did know but I refused to answer her. Instead, I pressed my lips together.
“His family is powerful, Sienna. If you marry Donal, you’d never have to worry about anything for the rest of your life.”
Except for Donal touching me, I thought, shivering unconsciously.
“You’d get out of the house,” she added.
Juliette knew that was the only thing that could possibly entice me, but still it wasn’t enough. “I’ve told you before. I don’t want to marry Donal. I don’t love him, and I don’t want to be the wife of some minister. If you’re so crazy about the idea, why don’t you marry him?”
She leaned forward. “He doesn’t want me.”
“I don’t know why not. You’re prettier than me, and you can bake.” This was true. I had no clue why the arrogant minister’s son had set his sights on me, when I had never shown him even a flicker of interest.
Juliette glanced down at herself. “Maybe he doesn’t like chubby girls.”
“You aren’t chubby,” I said, an urge to defend my little sister making me almost forget that we were arguing. “Did someone call you that? You’ve got curves, that’s all. I wouldn’t mind having some of your curves.”
That was also true. While my younger sister was curvy in all the right places—not chubby, thank you very much—I had an athletic build. It was yet another reason I didn’t know why Donal had fixated on me. I wasn’t particularly girly, and had never bothered trying to be pretty.
Juliette laughed. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. I can’t give you some of my curves, and I can’t force Donal to like me instead of you.”
“Too bad.”
My sister’s smile faded. “It is. If our family fortunes are dependent on you being a dutiful wife, we’re in trouble.”
“Our family fortunes are being drunk away every night,” I said. “I shouldn’t have to sacrifice myself to save the family.”
She flinched from my sharp words, and I immediately regretted them, especially since she was the one who did so much to
