Hunted(2)

“Of course we will come back tomorrow,” Galina replied, saving Yeva from having to formulate an answer. “Thank you, my lady.”

The girls all stood, tucking their sewing away, preparing to leave until the next afternoon. Yeva hurried to follow suit, shoving her embroidery into its basket. She’d learned in her first few days that the baronessa often snared the last of the girls to leave, drawing them into conversations that could last for hours. It wasn’t so much that Yeva disliked speaking with the baronessa, but rather that she’d prefer to reach home by nightfall.

And before the storm, if one was coming.

They left the baronessa mournfully describing her husband’s hunting exploits to the hapless sisters from the city, and rushed to bundle up in their winter gear.

“Thank you,” whispered Galina as she caught up to Yeva, jogging her elbow a little and casting her a smile.

Yeva shook her head, the corners of her mouth twitching. “I was only thinking of our safety, traveling in the weather.”

One of the baronessa’s ladies, overhearing Yeva, laughed. “We knew exactly what you were thinking of, Yeva. What time is Solmir meeting you?”

Yeva’s smile vanished. “Solmir?” she echoed.

“Don’t think we haven’t seen how much attention he pays you at the baronessa’s dinners.” The lady raised an eyebrow. She was one of the older members of the baronessa’s inner circle, soon to be engaged to a man in the baron’s hunting party. “Don’t give me that look. That is the point of this all, no? For us to see, and be seen.”

Yeva looked over at Galina, who was watching quietly as she laced the ties on her cloak. Finding no answer there, Yeva could only shrug in response.

Galina fell into step beside Yeva, and they walked in silence through the high doors of the house and onto the street. Galina was the second-newest addition to the baronessa’s collection, and somewhat more understanding of Yeva’s peculiarities. She had never once blanched at the accidental mention of weaponry.

“Was it true?” Yeva broke the quiet as they passed the church.

“Was what true?” Galina looked up, brown eyes blank.

“What they said about Solmir.” Yeva glanced behind them, checking that no one was near enough to hear. She felt her cheeks warming despite the cold. “About his attention to me.”

Galina smiled. The expression was always sudden and unexpected on her small, solemn face. She was a relatively plain girl, but her smile was beautiful. “Yeva, you silly thing. You can’t say you haven’t noticed. They tease you only because they feel certain there is an understanding between you.”

Yeva stopped short, abruptly enough that slush sprayed up onto the hem of her skirts. “An understanding?” She had tied her cloak too tightly—her breathing felt labored, uncertain.

“I am sorry to be the one to tell you,” said Galina, dimming her smile with clear effort. Her expression was still brimming with amusement. “See you tomorrow,” she added, before turning at the corner to make her way toward her own father’s house, in the opposite direction. Yeva stood stirring the slush with the toe of her boot.

Solmir? He was nothing, barely more than a name in her mind. No, that was unfair; he was more than that. One of the baron’s hunting party, he was without land or title, but his family was wealthy nonetheless. His father had been a respected cooper and manager of the baron’s wine cellar until his death, at which point Solmir had become the baron’s ward. Rumor had it that the baron, childless after two previous marriages, might confer his lands and titles to Solmir if the new baronessa failed to produce him an heir.

Yeva tried to picture Solmir in her mind, conjuring up hazy memories of dinners past. They’d always been a trial for her. The afternoons with the baronessa were one thing; they kept Yeva—for the most part—from longing for the forest trails. The dinners, however, were another. She’d always counted the moments until she could be back home again with her father, feeling like one of those ragged birds at the market beating halfheartedly against their wicker cages. The only image of Solmir her memory provided was of friendly hazel eyes and a soft voice that made her cheeks flush all the more. She recalled him broaching the strangest subjects, though she preferred his bizarre company to the dull conversation of the other gentlemen.

How long had the other ladies been talking about them, with Yeva completely unaware?

She tried to ignore how warm she was under her furs. It was not quite cold enough for full winter gear but she wore it anyway—a blizzard could rise swiftly and without warning, even this early in the winter. Sweat started to form between her shoulder blades and trickle down her spine; she set off down the road toward her father’s house.

They lived toward the edge of town not because Yeva’s father couldn’t afford to live at its center, but because he, like Yeva, felt more comfortable with a house that bordered on nature. He’d given up life as a hunter to marry Yeva’s mother, using his wealth to start a career as a merchant, but he couldn’t wholly give up the need for the woods and the snow and the wild tang of the beasts.

Yeva felt a tension draining that she hadn’t realized she was carrying. She liked the baronessa, and she appreciated having been taken into her circle, but some part of her still longed for the freedom she’d had even a year ago. Her father used to take her with him, training her, teaching her what he knew of hunting. It was all in fun, because what harm was there in teaching these things to a child? Echoes from a past life; things his own father taught him. Sharing them was the only way of keeping them real. Being a merchant held no passion for him, but it was safe, and it had made his wife happy until she died when the girls were young. It was only recently that her father had noticed Yeva’s age, and thought that she ought to be a lady now, and no longer his wild little Beauty.