Trials of Iron and Steel

The Bakery

Amara Carver did not allow herself to ever stop and think about all the horrible things she did during the night. If she did, she would never get anything done. Regretting the past wasn't going to change it.

Still, sometimes the worse of it leaked through. She couldn't stop seeing the woman's face. She had truly believed she had loved the poor farmer. Of course, Amara knew better. If she had truly loved the farmer, she would have left him. Just as Oliver paid Amara to spy on his wife, he would pay someone else to kill her lover. Maybe even her. Amara remembered opening her eyes, back in front of Oliver, and wanting to never turn visible again. Then she looked at Oliver's face, full of hope, and decided the whole thing was sickening. The only thing love got you was heartbreak if you're lucky and death if you're not.

However, the weight of Oliver's payment considerably lifted her mood. Perhaps now, she could open her eyes. Before she could try it, someone invaded her thoughts.

"Amara? Are you awake yet?" a voice, slightly wobbly, asked.

She sat up, groaning. Amara was going to have to start getting more than a couple hours of sleep. Around her were three other girls, each at different stages of their morning progess. There was Helene, who was already fully dressed and brushing her hair. Eleanor was sitting up, still wrapped in a thin blanket. She was the one who had called Amara's name and Lenora, who was still sleeping.

All four girls were somewhere around seventeen and the adopted daughters of the baker and her husband. All of them had arrived at different times in the past couple years, with Lenora being the first and Eleanor being the last.

"Morning?" Amara yawned, blinking several times.

"When did you get back last night?" Eleanor asked. She was blinking shivering. Her hair had turned a duller shade in the past few weeks, and her skin was much paler. No one knew what she was sick with. Only that it was getting worse. But there was nothing that any of the girls could do for her now except pretend that everything was okay. That was what they always did. 

"A little after dawn, why?"

"Because you didn't come back before noo yesterday. Most people need sleep," Eleanor answered.

With a sudden burst of energy, Amara jumped onto her knees and twisted her lips into a smile. "Some of you lower beings might, but I need not sleep nor eat." It had been hard trying to hard hide the mechanical set of wings protruding out of her back every night from three girls sleeping in the same room. After a month, Amara gave up and told them the truth.

Across the room, Helena rolled her eyes. "Excuse me, O Mighty One, but you have fallen asleep during dinner six times in the past year. And you need to cover your wrist before you go downstairs," she said. A roll of white bandages sat on the edge of the only and very cluttered corner table. She threw it over her shoulder. It sailed past Amara.

"Thanks," Amara huffed as she crawled to get the bandages. Making her way back to her cot, she glanced at her wrist. A brand of an eye with blood flowing out of it stared back her. It was what the only thing that truly marked her as a Render during the day. She missed the days when she didn't have to worry about it. 

Carefully, she wrapped the material around her wrist until none of the marking could be seen. She changed out of the outfit she had been wearing last night and left the cowl hanging by the door. The brown leggings she slipped on were much more comfortable than leather anyway.

"It's your turn to wake up Lenora," Amara said, glancing at Helene. The dark-haired girl groaned but moved to the figure wrapped tightly in blankets. After a slight hesitation, Helena shook the other girl's shoulders. A misshapen shadow formed around Helena's hands and tendrils of it pulled at her. All the girls shuddered silently.