Dairmud had spent the last week squeezed into the carriage with five other girls. She thanked Olwyn for the cool breeze blowing on the countryside this time of year. It kept the carriage cool enough, though it still stank of sweat and perfume. It didn’t help that the inside of the carriage itself was lined with fine fabric, which picked up the dirt and musk of the countryside air like a magnet. Not that Dairmud could linger on it too much. The constant chattering of the other girls in the carriage kept her distracted.
It came to no surprise that the six of them had come to know a lot about each other. Candis was a fisherman’s daughter, and Imogen worked as a seamstress. They were a fire and lightning elemental, respectively, and from Prym, too. The two of them and Dairmud were the only Marked girls in the village, so they had a lot in common in terms of their treatment as pariahs by the village boys. At least, the ones without a Mark. Those that did have one, all eight of them, constantly courted them, hoping one was their Destined. In small villages like Prym attempts like these barely ever proved fruitful. The
one couple that succeeded in the village’s memory – Dairmud’s mother-in-law, in fact – was in every way a rare occurrence. The whole village had celebrated it. But that was years ago. Now, the Marked boys looked to the Marked girls simply because they were also treated as romantic outcasts. No one could understand the heartbreak behind the mark better than two Marked.
The Royal City had sent a massive caravan to visit the villages in the Eastern region of Orewyn. Prym’s Marked took up three of them, separate carriages for boys and girls. They’ve been picking up others on their way, putting them in whatever space was available. The other three girls in the carriage were picked up on a village south of Prym. Their village was the last stop for the caravan, so they were now finally headed to the Royal City. Caravans like this meant business for local inns. It’d take up to a month to collect all the Marked youths around Orewyn, which meant multiple stops along the way. Dairmud’s mother, Heovan, had told her that when she was younger and the then-princess Brona held her Festival of Destinies, the Granger’s Plenty Inn had been absolutely packed. They’d made more money in a month than they usually made in three years. She’d been looking forward to the twin’s Festival of Destinies ever since they were born. A prince and a princess looking for their Destined meant both boys and girls were headed to the Royal City. It was twice as many costumers and even more business.
Dairmud thought of her home. She’d never really been away from them for too long, and now that she hadn’t seen them in weeks, she truly felt desolate. She turned to her newest carriage-mates. They were a talkative bunch, so the carriage was rarely ever quiet. But they were pleasant enough. Harlie was a metal elemental, a blacksmith, as most were. Marlow was a priest’s daughter and Raisa was a cook, both water elementals.
“Really helps with the cooking,” she’d said,
“With the mixing and boiling and the like.” Dairmud made a mental note. Odds were she’d end up being roommates with some of the girls here, so she wanted to memorize as much as she could about them. She didn’t know how long the Festival of Destinies would last. Could be a week, could be a month. One festival lasted two whole years until the prince found his Destined. A wave of fear hit Dairmud at the possibility of staying in the Royal City for that long.
I’d run away, she assured herself.
“But that’s really as much as I can do with my magic,” Raisa continued,
“I haven’t really had much formal training. I’m not very good. Not like Marlow.” “The temple priests are always open to teach magic,” Marlow seemed defensive,
“You didn’t learn, Raisa, because you never came to the lessons!” Raisa huffed in response.
“It’s the same in our village,” Dairmud said,
“My father always made me attend my lessons.” “Oh,” Marlow’s eyes lit up,
“Are you very good, then?” Dairmud shrugged sheepishly. Candis rolled her eyes with a smile,
“Yes, she is. She’s one of the best healers in Prym, outside of the temple priests.” Dairmud felt her ears grow red.
The smile on Marlow’s face grew even wider,
“I’m a healer, too! Are you an apprentice at the temple?” Dairmud shook her head, but the smile didn’t fade from Marlow’s face.
“I am. Master Crastin says I’m well on my way to join him as a Master of Water.” “Oh, yes. Imagine how impressed Byran would be,” Harlie teased.
“I am well out of Byran’s league, thank you very much,” Marlow said, crossing her arms.
“With or without the Mark!” The way Marlow frowned and looked out the carriage window assured Dairmud it wasn’t simply Marlow having a superiority complex. It sounded like Marlow was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. Raisa’s giggle proved Dairmud’s point further.
“Must be nice,” said Imogen, who must’ve interpreted Marlow’s actions the same way Dairmud did.
“Boys don’t really pay attention to us Marked girls.” “Really?” Harlie seemed surprised,
“The boys in our village flirt with everyone.” She and Raisa giggled knowledgeably.
“Well, our boys are shy,” Candis smiled,
“They tend to stay clear of us.” “Except Tomin, of course,” Imogen smirked.
Dairmud flushed at the mention of his name. She hissed at Imogen to be quiet, but it was too late.
“Tomin?” Raisa’s eyes were saucers. The curious hunger and hint of mischievousness in her eyes had convinced Dairmud she was the village gossip.
“Who’s he?” “A boy,” Dairmud said, shooting daggers at Imogen. When Raisa didn’t take her eyes off her, she elaborated.
“A really nice boy.” That didn’t satisfy Raisa either, who simply leaned closer to an uncomfortably small distance between her and Dairmud. Dairmud blurted her explanation as quickly as she could,
“I liked him, he liked me, and I was sure we were to be married until news of the Festival reached Prym. He said he’d wait for me.” Raisa, Harlie, and Marlow simultaneously
“Aww”d, and Dairmud felt her face grow even hotter. Then a shadow fell on Harlie’s face.
“So have you thought about what might happen?” she asked,
“You know, if you find your Destined?” Dairmud blinked and felt her throat clench. Of course she’d thought about it. She’d thought about how her Mark changing to match someone else’s, someone who’s not Tomin. Would her love for Tomin disappear then? Or not, and would she be with her Destined despite not loving
him? She didn’t know which was worse. But she did know how unlikely it would be to even find her Destined. She’d found comfort in that, pushing her worries to the back of her mind.
“Not really,” she lied. She frowned, resting her head against the inside of the carriage, looking out the window. Her carriage-mates got the message: that topic was off limits. After that, Dairmud stayed quiet, though the girls didn’t stop chattering away. The remainder of their conversation revolved around Prince Lukas. The girls giggled, sharing some of the rumors surrounding his beauty, his silver hair and eyes like ice. They swooned for the next half hour about how kind he was, how talented, how smart, so on and so forth. Only Imogen found the conversation as tedious as Dairmud, finding solace in a small leather bound book. It gave Dairmud a piece of mind. When she finally drifted into sleep, she dreamt of dancing with him in a dress made from the night sky, a black star-studded silk that seemed to absorb all the light in the room.
