I hadn’t realized how much pent-up anger was brewing until we started to spar.
With each time he deflected, I grew more irritated, clenching my teeth, grunting, moving faster, harder. Furious.
Just as we clashed swords, the sound rang out across the clearing and he kicked a leg out, swiping my feet from beneath me.
Letting out a frustrated breath, I tossed the sword, letting it land a few feet away. I sat back on my hands, breathing heavily, my tunic soaked with sweat.
“Alright. We’re done for today.” I glanced up at him to argue, but he held a hand up to stop me. “I can tell you’re distracted and I am sure it has something to do with your new engagement.”
I scoffed in response.
He was right, of course. I was distracted, and this session had done nothing to tamper it. But there was pity in his eyes and it grated my nerves. Gus was like a brother, so I knew he didn’t want this for me, but I still had no desire to see the sympathy on his face and even less so to talk about it.
I stood and dusted off my trousers. Stalking back to the sword, I swiped it off the ground, sheathed it, and placed it on the rack.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he shouted from the circle as I jogged back to the estate, waving in acknowledgment without looking back.
Once inside my bed chamber, I shut the door behind me, leaned back against it, and slid down, bringing my knees to my chest.
I was buzzing with anger and frustration. Anger at my father for this engagement, anger at the Goddess for dropping that stranger in my life onlyafterthe announcement of said engagement, anger at myself for not even speaking with him when I had the chance.
I clenched my fists, pulling my knees closer.
Anger at myself for not sticking up for myself. For letting everyone around me planmyfate as if I’m not even here. As if I am just an object to be passed around.
Clenching my eyes against the tears threatening to form, I stood and opened them to see thick clouds roll by through the window. While I couldn’t see the sun, I knew it had to be roughly noon.
Shift change time.
I ripped the drenched clothing off and pulled dry ones on. Jogging to the window, I glanced down to check for guards. When I spied none, I kicked a leg over the windowsill and descended the vine, landing with a thud and darting to the tree line.
My father might be able to force my hand in marriage, but he could not confine me to the estate grounds when he wasn’t here.
On days like this, when my heart was heavy and my mind clouded, I resorted to books—to escape, to forget, to find freedom where I had none. While our town library was small, it had become my safe haven, and that was where I was headed. It was farther than the pub, nearly three miles, but I didn’t mind the walk. It gave me a small semblance of independence.
As I walked under an open space in the tree canopy, a single drop hit my cheek and I glanced toward the sky, breathing in the scent of coming rain and damp moss. More drops fell now, and before I took another step, it was a downpour.
Pausing, I held my face upwards and let the cool rain soak through my hair and clothes. It washed away everything—the sadness, anger, anxiety, fear.
Stretching my arms out, palms up, I offered myself to the storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the sky exploded with brilliant lightning, cracking across the sky.
I took another deep breath. When I released it, every emotion of the last day left with it. Inhaling, I accepted everything the storm offered me. Strength. Peace. Renewal.
I gathered myself, smiling faintly, and continued to the library. At the door, I was met with Asha, the town librarian, stopping me in my tracks.
“Absolutely not,” she said, ushering me back out the door. “Wait here.”
I stood under the overhang, waiting, as she grabbed something to dry me off before I came in—not that I blamed her. My clothes were soaked. She came back with a large rag and I quickly dried off. Once inside, the smell of books and coffee surrounded me. Next to the smell of rain, this was my favorite. It always promised an exciting story, a new life to live, if only for a short time.
“Thank you, Asha,” I replied, heading straight for the romance section.
“Goddess knows why anyone would come to a library during a torrential downpour, but if it was anyone, it would be you,” she huffed. She didn’t like when I tracked water into her library, but she always accepted me, understanding why I needed to be here.
I roamed the shelves, searching for the most devastating, gripping story I could find. I settled on a forbidden love story and strolled to my favorite chair. It was made of worn, brown leather and was so large it swallowed me when I sat in it. Tucked away in the back corner of the library under a small window, it was private and let in enough light to read most hours of the day. I grabbed the blanket I hid behind the chair and plopped down.
Curling up and settling in, I devoured the book with hungry eyes, letting it whisk me away.
* * *