Nobody's Goddess (Never Veil #1)(42)

“Vena asked about your wedding last night,” said Father as he withdrew his hand from mine. For a moment, my heart nearly stopped.

“And what did she want to know?” asked Jurij jovially. He placed the stew bowls in front of Father and me.

I felt a rush of relief. Of course. Their wedding.

Father smiled, his face almost as warm as it had once been, his eyes growing brighter. “How much ale you’ll need for the festivities, of course!”

Jurij shook his head as he grabbed the empty bowls for himself and Elfriede. “You know we only want a few bottles at the most.” He paused a moment as he slid soundlessly next to Elfriede. Even from the table, I could see the lines burrowed deep between her brows.

“Or maybe none at all,” muttered Elfriede. She plopped the stew into their bowls with a little less tenderness than was her custom.

My father’s face fell. “I’ll be on my best behavior. I promise you.”

No one spoke.

Father and I sipped from our stew for a few moments longer, and Jurij sat down next to us, placing the bowls on the table and picking up his spoon.

Elfriede lingered back at the pot for a few minutes longer, stirring and stirring. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her dab her cheek with her apron.

“Noll,” she said tentatively. She stirred the stew with a little too much interest. “Would you be willing to help Darwyn deliver the bread to the castle?”

I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. “I didn’t think the bakers were so busy they couldn’t spare a few dozen members of their family to deliver bread to His Lordship.”

“Noll. Help Darwyn deliver the bread,” interrupted my father. He tried to take a sip of his stew, but his hand shook and the stew slid off the spoon, spilling onto the table. Whether because he had now gone a short while without his bottle or because he could barely contain his rage at me, I wasn’t sure.

He only managed to truly seem among the living these days when it came to rejoicing in Elfriede’s wedding and lamenting my unspoken opposition to my own.

I glanced out the window. Newly unmasked Darwyn stood in front of our house next to his cart full of bread. Father had no doubt come straight with him from the village and had let Elfriede know ahead of time.

“I promised I’d meet Alvilda after lunch.”

“Noll, you need to stop with that woodworking—”

I didn’t let Father finish. I grabbed a chisel and a block of half-carved wood and bolted out of the door, walking straight past Darwyn—no doubt fuming with impatience to be done with the task and back in his goddess’s arms. I headed down the dirt path, my head held high in the western direction.

The wheels on the cart squealed. Darwyn had no interest in waiting for me to change my mind. Just as well. I wasn’t going to.

Arrow bolted up the pathway from where he’d been playing nearby to lick me goodbye. I pulled the chisel out of his reach so he wouldn’t hurt himself and kept marching forward. Arrow followed me for a bit, jumping and yipping and straining against all hope that the wood I carried would prove edible. Perhaps to him it was.

“Arrow! Here boy!”

As I came over the hill, Arrow’s mistress echoed his name, and he went running. How like the master of the golden dog who’d birthed him.

Goodbye to you, too, Elfriede. I felt like a nuisance in my own home. Jurij had taken Mother’s place. Mine was practically taken by a dog.

It took me longer than it should have to cross the small distance to the Tailor’s. Weariness invaded my feet as the shop finally came into focus. My palm crushed against the uneven surface of the chisel handle, which showcased an elegant carving of a string of roses through which a series of butterflies fluttered their fair wings. It was one of my father’s better works, from back when he loved woodworking so much he even carved his tool handles. I could probably carve handles. But I wouldn’t forget the thorns on the vines and might include a few butterflies whose wings had ripped as they passed by them.

I stopped and took a closer look at the Tailors’ sign, which Father had carved some years ago. I would have put the image of the thread and needle looping through the letters in the word “Tailor.” I wondered if Alvilda would have a large piece of wood I could use to design my own sign for practice. If not, I could chop some down.

A shiver ran down my spine as the thought of the ax brought up faded memories of Avery from my dream. I’d left her before the dream had finished.

Anyway, signs take time. And you’re out of time, Noll.

The door to the shop opened abruptly, revealing the tired face of Mistress Tailor. Bow scampered out past her feet and jumped up to greet me. I placed the chisel and wood on the ground so I could take her head in my hands and rub her ears.

“You’re late,” said Mistress Tailor, not even bothering to greet me. “Why didn’t—” She glanced around and the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. “Oh. Noll. I thought Jurij might have been coming home. For once.”

“He’s at my place,” I said, although that was probably obvious. “If you’d like, I can tell him—”

She eyed the things I’d left on the ground and waved a hand. “No. Don’t bother. If you’re heading to Alvilda’s, send my husband over. There’s enough work around here for ten.” She turned to Bow. “Come on, do your business. Clothes aren’t going to sew themselves.”