Chapter 1
There was almost nothing scarier than the unknown of water. Water could both breathe life into the dead and rob it from the living. Scalding water burned, leaving both physical and mental wounds. Spring water could relinquish parched mouths; but deep water grasped on to thrashing legs, pulling them under where they could thrash no more.
Arwyn sputtered for air as someone doused her to rid her dark hair of shampoo.
“Hold still, your Grace!”
And apparently, bath water was almost lethal.
“Fates, Ginny!” The liquid burned her nose, and she scrunched it so that she would not sneeze. “A little warning next time, please!”
Ginny, Arwyn’s ladies’ maid and closest ally at the manor she reluctantly called home, chuckled and dug her fingers into Arwyn’s scalp to massage out the remnants of the product. “I told you three times, your Grace. You merely grunted. I thought it was an affirmative response.”
“Oh.” Arwyn looked down at her hands, vision still clouded by the droplets that clung to her lashes. “Thank you, then.”
Ginny clucked her tongue. “Darling girl, what would you do without me?”
“I-I don’t know.” She swallowed. Ginny didn’t yet know about Arwyn’s plans. No one did, in fact. And she needed to keep it that way for as long as possible if it was going to work.
“Is everything alright, my sweet?” Ginny asked. “You look frightened. If this is about your upcoming ceremony, I’m sure your mother will understand if you want to delay a bit longer.”
Arwyn scoffed. As if that was an option. Maybe for someone else, but not her. “You’ve worked for my family for how long, Ginny? You clearly don’t know my mother at all if you think she will let me delay my ceremony.”
The ceremony to choose her match by way of the Fates was happening in a few days. She was what the dukedoms called ‘high risk’. There was no way to stop the ceremony or the endless preparations that her mother worked to put together, much to her protests. And she had no say in who it was that she’d be made to marry.
“I’m sure if you give her a chance,” Ginny urged, “you would see you are more like your mother than you think.”
“Ugh.” Arwyn wrinkled her nose and shuddered at the thought. “I am not like my mother. New subject, please.”
Ginny leaned closer. “Tell me about what happened to your back?”
Arwyn groaned and dunked her head under the water then came back up for air. If there was ever a time for water to betray her—
“You noticed that huh?” She twisted her body away from Ginny as if that would hide the sun marks.
“Yes, I did.” Ginny pushed Arwyn’s hair over one shoulder and traced her fingers over the skin. “Let me guess. You were meeting with Lord Raydir?” The raise of her eyebrows told Arwyn that lying about her rendezvous was not an option today.
“Maybe. But it’s not like anything is happening between us.” Arwyn grasped at the side of the tub, her cheeks warm as she remembered the outing with Ray.
“Hold still, Ari,” Raydir instructed, giggling. He swept his fingers gently against Arwyn’s bare back.
“I’m trying!” Arwyn huffed, resting her chin on her hands. “It stings you know. And it stinks.”
“That means it’s working.” He brushed her hair away from the base of her neck. “I’m going to put the leaves on top of it to let the paste soak in, okay?”
“He was just helping out,” she admitted, coming back to the present. “Nothing happened between us.”
“So you’ve said.”
Arwyn and Ginny stared at each other across the bathroom.
“It’s a good thing that boy knows how to take care of a sunburn. That skin of yours is too precious.”
Arwyn rolled her eyes. “Now you’re sounding like my mother.” She reached behind her and scratched. She kicked herself for spending too much time out in the sun even though it was the only escape from the manor.
Spending time with Raydir quieted her mind in a way she longed to hold on to for as long as she could.
Ginny dabbed at the burns lightly with soap then a towel. “You shouldn’t be so careless, Arwyn.” Her voice was soft.
“I wasn’t being careless,” Arwyn murmured. “I can’t help that the sun burns.”
“Careless with Raydir, I mean.”
Oh. Right. “I’m not being careless with him either.”
Ginny beckoned her to stand up, wrapping the duchess in a towel as she climbed out of the tub. “What are your feelings for Lord Raydir?”
Arwyn blinked at her. Surely it wasn’t a serious inquiry. “I, um, I care for him. De-deeply. He’s my best friend. I can’t imagine my life without him.” All of it was true.
“And do you love him?” she asked.
Arwyn’s reply was much too quick leaving her lips. “We can’t be together.” Not here in the dukedoms at least. She wished to spend her life with him, but there were aspects of their lives that made the pairing too difficult. And she was planning to keep her desire for escape a secret as long as she could manage. “It’s inconvenient, but it’s the truth.”
“Love is hardly convenient, Arwyn. Do you love him?”
Arwyn swallowed. “I don’t know.” It was the truth. Raydir had been her best friend since she was five years old and he first visited her home at the Kingston manor with his parents.
The alliance between the dukedoms of Gwyniar and Alvenora had held strong for almost fifteen years, except now tensions grew over the ever-present threat of the wolf spirit that was becoming harder and harder to control in each and every citizen who turned out to be an Active.
“Come, now,” Ginny said, changing the subject. “We must not let you be late for the dress fitting.” She led Arwyn to her wardrobe, letting her pick an outfit for the day.
“Riding clothes, please.” The hangers clanked against each other as Arwyn found a tunic and pants to wear. “I want to at least be comfortable if I’m going to have to go somewhere I don’t want to be.”
Ginny gave her a soft smile. “Of course, Your Grace. I’ll call for the carriage. Come meet me when you’ve dressed.” She started for the door. “And don’t even think about climbing out that window.”
Arwyn laughed. “I’ll use the front door, I promise.”
She wanted to escape. She wanted to be anywhere but here, because the minute Arwyn stepped into the burgundy and gold gown at the dress shop in Runswick, she knew it was all over.
The seamstress bent down to fluff out the skirt, lips pursed around sharp pins, as assistants flurried around the shop to aid other customers. Lady Eleanor Kingston surveyed her from afar, a finger crooked thoughtfully against her lips.
Amidst many arguments about the fabric and design of her Ceremony gown, her mother had finally agreed to let Arwyn wear something that showed off a bit more skin than what was believed appropriate for a duchess. The gown came up high by her throat, circling it with a thick strip of velvet. The back showed off her distinctive curves and muscles defined from the time she spent in archery, covered only with a thin veiling.
Turning in the mirror, Arwyn winced. It was worse than she thought. On her back was an outline from the aloe leaves that her best friend Raydir had used to treat her sunburn. And now that she was seeing it from this angle, she knew what would be coming next.
The impressions usually faded quickly but today was not one of those days.
Of course it wasn’t.
“You could’ve told me it was that bad,” she hissed at Ginny.
Her mother would never let her wear this dress. She’d be proving her point that this was not an appropriate dress for the Ceremony.
“My, my. Ari, what are we going to do with you?” her mother scolded, a frown crossing her delicate features. “You can’t keep being so careless with your skin.” She reached out to trace the outline of one of the leaves.
Arwyn winced again, this time at how tender the skin was to the touch. Stupid sun. Stupid aloe leaves.
“It’s just a sunburn, Mother,” she argued. “And the dress doesn’t matter. It’s not like the ceremony can’t go on without the perfect dress.”
If only it were true, Arwyn would’ve sabotaged the upcoming event long ago.
“Regardless, you’re still a duchess and I won’t have you showing up to represent our family next week without looking reasonably presentable.”
As if anything she ever wore could please her mother.
“I guess you’ll have to get me a dress that actually covers my back then if you’re so insistent on me not being a disappointment to you and my father.” She turned again to face her mother. “That’s what you want anyway, isn’t it? Modesty? Hiding my individuality?”
Eleanor Kingston clucked her tongue in disapproval. “You’re going to be running the dukedom some day, Arwyn. It’s about time you start acting grown up and stop frolicking around in the woods.” She brushed her fingers over a red spot on Arwyn’s back. “Lord Raydir should know better by now too, given his role in Alvenora. You are no longer children.”
Arwyn sighed. Ray did know better. But he also knew their clandestine meetings roughhousing in the woods were the absolute best kind and the only way they could often see each other. Since Raydir’s father insisted that he attend more of the duke’s meetings behind closed doors as he would be running Alvenora some day, they’d had little time to spend with each other lately.
And with that future approaching, there was no way she was going to give up being with her best friend with her own time as an independent woman dwindling before she had to marry some other unimportant noble whose name she pulled from a—
“If I may, Elean—erm, Your Grace, might I suggest this one?” Ginny piped up. She presented a second option, draped across her arms, to Arwyn and the duchess.
Arwyn’s eyes widened. There was no way her mother would let her wear that, and it was bold of Ginny to suggest it as an option.
Her mother’s features softened, mouth relaxing. All she gave was a simple nod, and that was enough to send the seamstress women in a frenzy to push Arwyn off of the pedestal and back behind the dividers. They removed the first dress and shoved the second one over her head, mussing her dark locks.
Dizzy from the movement, Arwyn stepped out again, careful to not trip over the hem as she climbed back up in front of her captive audience.
Ginny clasped her hands over her heart. “My, Arwyn...”
As the seamstress brushed out the gown around her curves, the fabric swishing against her legs, Arwyn’s gaze traveled outside the dress shop to where the nobles congregated. Arwyn sighed, wishing for her moment of escape, then froze as she caught a glimpse at her appearance. The dress was an off-the-shoulder number that dipped in the front to accentuate her chest, with slits further down the skirt. It was the same deep wine as the original with a leaf-based pattern throughout the bodice.
And it fit her almost perfectly. With her brown hair flowing in subtle waves over her shoulders and the slenderness of her upturned nose, she almost looked like a mirror image of her sister. No wonder her mother agreed to let her try it on.
If only Arabella could be here to see it.
Three years was not enough time to mourn her death.
“She’d be so proud of you,” Eleanor said, dabbing at her eyes with a cloth.
“She always was,” Arwyn murmured. Her throat burned with grief, and she swiped her own fist across her face. “How long do we have to be here today, Mother?”
Scents of homemade candles and freshly baked bread wafted into the shop as the door opened, and a new customer emerged. One of the assistants scurried away to greet them.
“The dress needs no additional alterations,” the seamstress told them.
The duchess cleared her throat, smoothing down the invisible wrinkles on her own daily gown. “Then we’re done for the day. Ginny, would you see to it that Miss Lia here has the dress wrapped and delivered?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Ginny curtsied then went to speak with Miss Lia on the details of payment and delivery.
The duchess turned to Arwyn. “Go be with him,” she said softly.
“Mother, I—”
“Go.” She raised her voice a degree. “Just this once, you will be wise to listen to me.”
Arwyn frowned then nodded. She ducked behind the partition again and changed back into her riding clothes. It was unlike her mother to agree to let her see Raydir on a whim, especially after how she’d made such a big deal about their time together mere minutes before.
Once she was dressed, Arwyn raced out of the shop. Her mother had disappeared, probably to go back home to handle more preparations. She inhaled the fresh air, focusing on the scents of products from the peddling carts and pretending like things were perfectly normal.
She had no idea why her mother finally agreed to let her see Raydir. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the decision.
Arwyn caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of a storefront window. It was like seeing a ghost. Despite their five year age gap, everyone said she looked exactly like her sister. She used to hate it. But now, she wished for things to be different.
“Fates, please don’t let me let her down,” Arwyn whispered. Then she walked away from the center of the village to her favorite spot to think.
