The Pillars Of The World

Ari back to the present. “All right. Two coppers. That’s the best you’ll get.”
    Ari held out her hand.
    Granny’s face darkened. Muttering, she pulled a coin pouch out of her skirt pocket. She looked like she wanted to spit on each copper before she dropped it into Ari’s hand.
    Saying nothing, Ari slipped the coins into her own deep skirt pocket before she again unpacked the baskets.
    When she picked up her empty baskets and pulled the curtain aside, Granny Gwynn said spitefully, “I hope that fancy brings you everything you deserve.”
    Or at least no harm , Ari thought as she left the shop.
    Odella and the other girls were still gathered nearby. When none of them even looked at her, Ari breathed a sigh of relief.
    “I’m going to try one of the paths through the woods,” Bonnie said. “If any of them are about, they won’
    t be on the main road.”
    Another girl fanned herself with a lace hanky. Her voice quivered with excitement and fear. “Do you really think they’ll come for the Summer Moon?”
    “You’ll probably end up with Eddis or Hest,” Bonnie said with a touch of malice.
    “Not Hest,” the hanky waver whined. “He has spots.”
    “Well,” Odella said with a sharp smile, “you know what all the boys say is the best cure for spots, don’t you?”
    The girls giggled.
    Dropping her baskets into the handcart, Ari left as swiftly as she could without seeming to run away.
    She should have heeded the strange feel in the air.
    Mistress Brigston had tried to cheat her out of the payment for the wall hanging. Having learned the hard lesson that the gentry tended to see nothing dishonorable about trying to cheat anyone but one of their own, Ari had refused to let the woman bring the wall hanging into the house “to check the colors” before she had received payment. Then there was dealing with Granny Gwynn, who was a hedge witch with just enough skill in magic to be dangerous to anyone who trusted her potions and spells, and more than enough greed to never deal fairly if she could get away with it.
    So now she was on her way home with a wall hanging no one would buy, a few coppers, and an intense desire to escape before anything else happened.

    She didn’t escape fast enough.
    Royce, Baron Felston’s heir, was waiting for her outside the village, just beyond a slight bend in the road.
    Most of the girls sighed over Royce’s trim figure and the handsome face framed by golden curls, but Ari knew the temper that lurked behind his blue eyes, the meanness of spirit that no amount of flattering words could sweeten.
    Ari gave him a cool, civil nod, hoping he’d let her pass.
    Wearing a satisfied grin, Royce fell into step beside her. “I hear you got a fancy for the Summer Moon.
    Let’s have a look at it.”
    She dodged his hands, putting the cart between them. “Stay away from me.” She was so intent on watching him, she barely noticed the power beginning to rise inside her—the strength of the earth and the heat of fire.
    “Why should I?” Royce sneered. “You’ve lifted your skirts for me before.” His eyes raked over her. “
    You were better than nothing, but not by much. A cold toss that wasn’t worth a second try. But I figure the magic in that fancy will warm you up a bit and make things interesting.”
    Warm her up? Warm her up ? If she were any hotter right now, she’d burn.
    “Leave. Me. Alone,” she said, spacing out her words.
    “As the lady wishes,” Royce said, giving her a mocking bow. Then his face hardened. “But I’m going to be riding toward the coast road that night, and I expect to meet you along the way.” He turned toward the village, then turned back and pointed a finger at her. “And if I find out you lifted your skirts for any other man before I’ve had my fill of you, you’ll regret it.”
    She waited just long enough to feel sure he was really leaving. Then she grabbed the handle of her cart and hurried down the road in the opposite direction.
    She managed half a mile before she had to stop. Feeling shaky and feverish, she stripped off her short cloak. “Don’t get sick now,” she said as she folded the cloak and put it in one of the baskets. “Don’t get
    —”
    She paused, focused, felt the thrum of power waiting to be released.
    “Foolish,” she muttered, stepping away from the cart. “Foolish, foolish, foolish. How many times did Mother tell you that drawing power without awareness was as dangerous for the witch as it was