Marked

Chapter 1

Her thoughts shifted to her uncle, who had been a bit rough around the edges. His stern face, framed with a large mustache that covered his top lip, his broad shoulders, the tan linen shirt and brown pants he always wore flashed through her mind. He was a wealthy blacksmith in the upper districts, and created weapons and armor for the Fae armies. He had been revered for his skill, which rivaled that of the Fae and even surpassed it in some cases. Because of this, her cousin had never known what it was like to want for something, and Roe attributed much of her sunny disposition towards her upbringing. She simply couldn't see the world in the same way after starving just down the street from where her cousin was living so lavishly.

But that didn't mean she didn't love her cousin, and didn't enjoy spending her days with her. Sirscha's ever protective father didn't approve of her spending so much time with Roe, claiming that Roe was a negative influence and that trouble followed her like night chasing away the sun. He would encourage her to make friends with some of the wealthier girls in the neighborhood, setting up dinner parties that Roe and her mother weren't invited to and were too poor to dress appropriately for anyways. But Sirscha had never cared for the wealthy ladies, and preferred to spend her time with her cousin. If her uncle had known what she got up to during the day he would have kept Sirscha far, far away from her.

Her mother was a seamstress, but because of where they were located, she had trouble drumming up business. They were in the middle district, which was not quite as poor as the lower districts, as they often owned their own homes and had a small space to grow food. While that may have been true, it was nowhere near as nice as the upper district that they lived right around the corner from. In the upper districts, homes were significantly bigger and more complex, with green spaces in the back for children to play, with kitchens that held deep basin sinks and two, sometimes three fire pits. They often had down mattresses, with bed frames that boasted hardwood from the northern forests. They had dresses and scarves and hats, never needing to wear a pair of shoes down to the soles. Beyond that, they ate fresh meat and fruits, never stooping so low as to provide their children with gruel to fill their bellies. It was said that the upper districts were favored by the Fae, so much so that they were the only ones to trade with Fae on a regular basis. It was known that only the most talented humans could hope to earn enough wealth to cross the border into the higher class.

While they owned their home, her mother often had trouble getting more than gruel onto the table. There were many nights where her mother would say she was full, and would give her portion to Roe. Roe had always wanted to repay her for her sacrifices, but had no skills she could leverage as she took little interest in sewing.

It was not long until she found something that she was good at, and it happened entirely by chance. Once, while they were out in public, Roe's mother had stopped inside of a store to purchase a bag of grains. It was a cool winter afternoon, and they had traversed to the western side of the district to run a few errands. The streets were narrow here, and wound through the houses, connecting to main roads like veins to an artery. The middle district was situated on the part of the valley that began rising towards the mountain, so there were many hills, roads peaking and falling in odd places. It was incredible to her that people had managed to build mostly level homes on these hills. Some were steeper than others, and it was necessary to have a good pair of walking shoes if you were going anywhere far. The sun was beating down on her, the high altitude making it merciless. The wind, however, was icy, and swept any semblance of heat from her body, causing a shiver to run down her spine to her toes. It was easy to get sunburnt here, even in the cool chill of the winter air, so she pulled the hood of her small cloak further over her head, hoping to conceal her face from the brutal sun. Roe had been waiting outside for her mother to finish, when a man walked by digging in his pocket for something. He fished out a notebook, and with it, a small bag dropped from his pockets with a plop into the dirt below.