Marlee spent the day after turning thirteen working the loom with her mother for winter clothes. After all, she knew that all good wives were skilled at cloth-making.

She sat straight up on the loom chair and adjusted her foot on the foot pedal, levitating the second level of cloth, making a space for the shuttle to fly through. She pulled at the shuttle, proudly earning a rewarding smile from her mother.

"Well done, Marles! In no time, you can start making clothes for the entire family!"

"Thank you, Mother. But I would still prefer my buttermilk-colored dress."

Mrs. Harlowe looked at Marlee's buttermilk dress, a fulfilled promise from last year's harvest.

"Yes," her mother smiled, "it looks wonderful on you."

Marlee beamed at her mother. She had always admired her mother, and any word of encouragement made her happy. Marlee continued to operate the loom, with her mother occasionally helping to adjust the foot pedals for patterns. Slowly, Marlee fell into the rhyme of the loom. The click-click-clatter of the machine always soothed her thoughts. Her anxiety over this year's harvest, her concern over her family's health, and her fear of getting attacked by bandits, which were, as rumored from town, quite frequent in the countryside,

Eventually, after what really had been hours of routine, Mrs. Harlowe broke the harmony of the loom.

"Marles, now that you are thirteen and nearly a woman, you have to learn what women in our society and our class do."

Marlee slowly looked up from staring at the loom. Her chest tightened, suddenly nervous for what her mother had to inform her about. She knew vaguely what her mother meant. This was one of the talks she has been dreading since coming of age. Still, Marlee pretended to have no idea what her mother was saying.

"What is it, Mother? Do I have to work more hours in the field with Father now?"

"Well," Mrs. Harlowe said, "you know how your father works shifts at Lord Horne’s fields every year right after he finishes harvesting our fields?"

Marlee frowned but nodded, wondering how her father’s part-time job had anything to do with her entering society as a woman.

Her mother continued, "Lord Horne is actually our landowner, and he is actually the one that provides us with funds every year to survive. As long as your father keeps producing on his own and working part-time at Lord Horne’s land, Lord Horne will let us continue with our business."

Marlee brightened up. "But that’s great! Isn’t it?"

Mrs. Harlowe smiled at Marlee and said, "Yes, dear, that is good. It’s certainly better than other lords. However, Lord Horne requires everyone in our family to contribute some work for him. For instance, the winter clothes that we are weaving on this loom right now are going to Lord Horne’s wife, Lady Joyce."

Marlee’s eyebrows furrowed. She had always thought what her mother produced from her loom was for her family, not the lady. But more importantly, how did her parents’ jobs have anything to do with her future job?

She first thought of how to phrase her question, as her father had taught her, and then she started with, "Mother, I’m confused."

Mrs. Harlowe’s lips tightened, and she said, "Go ahead, Marles. I’ll be glad to clear any confusion that you might have."

"Why do we have to give our fabric to the Lord and Lady if they are so rich, and how does this have anything to do with me beginning to work?"

Mrs. Harlowe looked up at the ceiling, her lips pressed so tightly together that they disappeared. She answered, "Because even the richest people don’t like spending money. But they do like others working for them. I told you that you needed to experience society as a growing woman. Starting to work at the Lord and Lady’s manor, Horne Manor, will be exactly how you do it."

Marlee’s heart fell. She had secretly hoped her first job would be picking and selling strawberries with her mother or plowing fields with her father. After all, she would’ve loved to spend more time with her parents, as they always seemed to be taking care of her brothers.

"You have to babysit the lady’s baby daughter, Edlyn," Mrs. Harlowe explained. "Judging from your experience of looking after your brothers, I told the lady that you would be perfect for the job!"

Marlee brightened up. She loved babies. They always caused her heart to soften, her smile to widen, and her frustrations to melt. She smiled, her eyes sparkling, exclaiming, "I would love to do that. When do I start?"

Mrs. Harlowe sighed in relief. She said, "Next week. I’ll take you there. Don’t be nervous. You’ll be perfect for the job." She smiled at Marlee, her warm eyes like the summer sun: radiant and beautiful.

Marlee wished she had those eyes.

Marlee took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, curled her fingers into a fist, and took another deep breath. Then she exhaled and slowly walked up the steps into Lord Horne and Lady Joyce's manor.

The past year of taking care of the lady's baby hadn't been the best in Marlee's experience. Much to her dismay, Baby Edlyn cried constantly, pulled Marlee's hair, and didn't appreciate much of anything Marlee tried.

According to Marlee's father, there shouldn't even be a reason why Marlee was still the babysitter for Baby Edlyn.

Marlee slowly knocked on the large oak doors of the manor. With a groan, the doors slid open immediately, revealing an angry Lady Joyce.

"Oh, Marlee Harlowe, did I not tell you that noon is Edlyn's wake-up time?" Lady Joyce exclaimed. "You are to enter the manor through the side entrance, so that the sound will not wake my poor baby up. She needs her sleep!"

The lady glanced down at Marlee's dress, a look of pure distain spreading across her face. She sneered, "Why a corn-colored dress? Do you want to become a producer?"

With the lady finishing her insult to Marlee, the high-pitched wail of Baby Edlyn was heard from inside the manor. Marlee tried to apologize, but Lady Joyce hurried her inside.

"Dear child, stop wasting time and go take care of Edlyn!"

Marlee nodded, then rushed up the carpeted oak staircase and into the nursery, where Edlyn was screaming and thrashing in her cradle. Marlee slid one hand under her head and neck and the other hand under Edlyn's bottom. She held Edlyn close to her chest, cradling Edlyn's head with one hand while resting the baby's head against her chest.

"Come on, Edlyn," Marlee pleaded. "Please stop crying!"

In response, Edlyn started grabbing at Marlee's hair and pulling. Marlee winced, gently trying to pry her hair out of Edlyn's small, grubby fingers. As a result, the baby became even more angry.

She kept trying to calm Edlyn, bouncing her, patting her, and soothing her.

For the thousandth time upon entering Edlyn's nursery, Marlee couldn't stop herself from admiring Edlyn's own room, as compared to Marlee's entire family sleeping in one bedroom. Edlyn also had a dark red carpet spreading across the entire room—not the rough kind, but one that was soft to the touch and made Marlee want to just lie on the ground and fall asleep. The nursery had tapestries of rabbits, lions, and unicorns; of princesses, knights, and nobles; and of happiness, joy, and delight. Marlee wondered how wonderful it would've been to grow up in such a mansion, in contrast to her family's small cottage on their little farm.

Just as Edlyn was finally falling back into sleep, Marlee decided that she preferred living with her family at the farm. She would not trade the little warm, happy space with her family for Horne Manor, where the lady couldn't care for her own baby.

Marlee placed Baby Edlyn back into the crib and sank down into one of the many cushioned armchairs in the room. She sank into the soft padding of the chair, a rare luxury for Marlee. She realized she hadn't slept properly in quite some time. Marlee, wondering just how much one armchair cost, traced her fingers over the elaborate wooden carvings on the chair, resembling flowers curling around and strangling each other.

Marlee slowly turned her head towards the cold fireplace. Lady Joyce would never know if the fireplace was lit. Marlee's suddenly heavy eyelids fluttered. Marlee knew nobody would care if she took a short nap. The armchair was too comfy. The atmosphere was too comforting.

Slowly, Marlee got up, making sure to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake up Edlyn. There was a small stack of oak logs next to the fireplace. She piled some on the hearth and looked around for a match, already half asleep.

"What in heaven's sake are you doing?" Said a stern, harsh voice behind Marlee.

Marlee whipped around, her heart skipping a beat. In the doorway stood Lady Joyce, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. Marlee wanted to slap herself. She had been so entranced by lighting up the fireplace that she hadn't heard the soft footsteps approaching the nursery.

"If you want to steal wood for your father," Lady Joyce continued in a cold voice, "I recommend the outside shed, which is stacked, not Edlyn's nursery."

"My Lady," Marlee stammered, "I was trying to start a fire. It was getting quite cold in here, and Baby Edlyn was shivering slightly."

For what seemed like eternity to Marlee, Lady Joyce stood still, glaring at her, her eyebrows raising higher and higher until Marlee thought they were going to fly off her face. Finally, the lady commanded, "Go to the kitchen. Edlyn needs to eat lunch. And the next time you try to burn my manor down, maybe ask one of the servants to help you."

Marlee bowed her head. She murmured an apology and a thank you before scurrying down to the kitchen, her face burning with embarrassment and tears stinging in her eyes.

From inside the nursery, Marlee heard a loud sigh accompanied by a string of phrases she had always thought were inappropriate to be spoken in front of a baby, even if the baby was asleep.

Marlee, on her break, sat in a corner of the kitchen at Horne Manor, her head between her legs. Another day of torment for Lady Joyce and Baby Edlyn was almost over.

From Edlyn, Marlee's arms were scratched red, her hair was missing a chunk, and her dress was ruined from spilled mortar. From her Lady, Marlee's heart stung from the millions of insults that have been thrown at her, her face burned from embarrassment, and her head spun from running from one part of the manor to another for small errands.

The kitchen was a chaotic hubbub. Someone was always shouting orders; someone was always carrying food to or from the dining hall; and someone was always cooking the most delicious dish Marlee could ever dream of. There was also a constant chatter among the cooks, servants, and maids.

"The lady wants blueberry pie!"

"Someone go serve this salted fish."

"We are out of ginger!"

"There's a spill by Baby Edlyn. Somebody go clean that up!"

"Fetch me more carrots!"

A few years ago, Marlee would be happily sitting at her dinner table, enjoying a nice pickled herring that was on sale at the market in town, and talking with her family about her day. However, today, Marlee sat in the bustling kitchen of the Lord and Lady, hungrily staring at the magnificent luxury foods that nobles ate every day. She gazed at plates of freshly caught and cooked meat, bowls of imported dried fruits, and platters of warm raspberry pies.

She remembered how she hadn't had breakfast or lunch, how her dinner last night was a bowl of uncooked potatoes, and how her stomach was growling like a threatened dog.

"A staple for the poor, a never-experienced luxury of the poor." Marlee muttered bitterly.

Marlee wished to sit at the long wooden table outside in the dining room with the lady's friends, dining like pigs, gobbling down the delicious cuisines, and enjoying a carefree evening.

A round of half-finished food plates was brought back into the kitchen to be cleaned. Marlee stared longingly at the barely eaten leftovers: the peppered peacock, the flavored fish, and the spiced spinach. Her mouth watered. Marlee jumped up from her tiny corner, yelling, "I'll help with the cleaning!"

Before any of the cooks could protest, she grabbed three dishes, taking them out of the kitchen through the back door so as not to pass the dining hall. Marlee dashed down the hall, took a right, went down a flight of stairs, and arrived at the basement of the manor.

Marlee walked slowly into the darkness, balancing the three plates, still filled with food, on her left arm. She found her usual wooden stool with a candle next to it. Marlee set the plates down on the cool stone floor, lit the candle, and sat heavily on the small stool, which sounded out an exhausted groan under her weight.

Marlee gave herself a second to rest. She stretched out her legs in front of her, yawning. She took a second to marvel at the three half-full plates of meat in the dim glow of her candle. It was both a masterpiece and a lifesaver.

Without another second, Marlee dug into the first dish, the spicy spinach, with her hands. She stuffed one slice after another into her greedy mouth. The fresh vegetable burned her mouth like fire in August, but she could not have loved the flavor more.

She continued to gobble up her plate of peacock meat, licking the plate clean and savoring the sweet flavor in her mouth. Marlee was self-conscious of herself for not being the most civilized when eating food, but nothing was stopping her from eating until her stomach was full.

Just as Marlee was starting to pick the bones out of her fish, the stairs down to the basement creaked and groaned under the weight of someone. Someone heavy. For a split second, Marlee froze, her heart skipping a beat and chills racing down her spine. Then, Marlee blew out the candle, stacked her near-empty plates under her stool, and scurried silently to a corner of the basement where, hopefully, the intruder wouldn't be able to see her.

Was it Lady Joyce? Had she noticed that Marlee was gone from the kitchen?

"Can I join you for dinner? I also got some leftovers! The lords and ladies finished dessert, so I also brought half of a peach pie." Said a singsong female voice.

Shocked, Marlee stepped out of the corner, trying not to look embarrassed. She smiled at the figure, even though she was almost blind in the darkness of the basement.

Another candle was lit, and introductions were exchanged.

"Well, I'm Marjorie Bone, and I'm a maid here. You know, clean up occasionally after the folks. My mother works here as a maid here, too, so I guess that's the entire reason why I'm here." Majorie explained. She smiled so wide that her eyes squinted into tiny slits, but Marlee liked her green eyes. They were like the forest during the summer or like grapes from Lady Joyce's drawing room.

"It's nice to meet you, Marjorie," Marlee gushed. "I'm Marlee Harlowe, and I'm basically Baby Edlyn's babysitter. My father works part-time on Lord Horne's fields, so I also work here now."

"Oh, that baby's nasty. Once, she puked all over the carpet in the nursery, and I had to scrub it all up!" Marjorie complained. Then she laughed, "But at least now I know how to wash a carpet without having the color fade!"

Marlee giggled. She liked Marjorie, and she wanted to hang out with her more often.

Marlee asked, "Marjorie, do you come here often?"

"Yeah! I come here every evening! Usually I come here earlier, but the old devil got busy washing her undergarments well into my dinner break. But I'm glad. At least I got to take the sweet stuff!"

Marlee's eyes widened. She gasped, "Why are you referring to the lady as the old devil? She's going to kill you when she finds out!"

Her friend winked. She chucked, "But she isn't going to find out, is she?"

Marlee shook her head, mustering a weak smile. She felt uncomfortable, breaking the rules. Even if the rule she broke was keeping an insult a secret. She looked around for a distraction.

"Ooh! Do you want my fish?" Marlee offered. "I've removed the bones already."

Marjorie leaned across Marlee to grab the plate of fish. She declared, "Marlee Harlowe, you are my savior."

Marlee laughed, "You can call me Marles. That's what my family calls me. Do you have a nickname?"

"Well, my mother used to call me Marj, but it's weird, so she stopped using that. By the way, I love your dandelion-colored dress! It's so unique."

Marjorie grinned at Marlee, and Marlee grinned back. Her heart warmed, and her smile widened. This was the happiest night of her life since she started working at Horne Manor.

"I have to get back to making sure Edlyn doesn't kill herself, but do you want to talk again tomorrow during lunch?" Marlee offered.

Marjorie beamed, "I'd love to, Marlee!"

Marlee beamed at her new friend, joy filling every corner of her body.

Walking down the streets, Marlee and Marjorie laughed and giggled until they were out of breath.

Lady Joyce had coincidentally sent Marlee to buy more baby clothes and ordered Marjorie to go purchase more vegetables for Edlyn.

"I can't believe Edlyn puked over the old lady!" Marjorie snorted.

"No wonder she thinks her daughter is sick!" Marlee chortled.

Marjorie shouted, "I call dibs on when the hag puts her baby on bed rest for sneezing!"

Marlee asked, "Why is the lady even so protective of her?"

All of a sudden, the mood dropped. A dark cloud spread over Marjorie's face. She looked around. Lowering her voice, she murmured, "It's forbidden to talk about, so promise not to spill."

Marlee's eyebrows twisted together. What was so serious that even her friend would look so grave? But she nodded and crossed her fingers.

"Well," Marjorie continued, "the lady actually had a son before. Around ten years ago. When he was still an infant, he fell painfully ill with a disease that sounded like spit. He had fevers, weight loss, and severe coughs. Died in his sleep. The lady wouldn't allow anyone but herself to take care of him. When he passes, rest in peace. By the way, she swore never to let herself take care of another creature. When Edlyn was born, she naturally turned to babysitters."

"Babysitters like me." Marlee whispered. She couldn't believe it. No wonder Lady Joyce was so sour all the time. She had lost her first baby. Suddenly, Marlee forgave her lady for all the mean comments that she had received.

Marjorie smiled at Marlee and said, "Oh god, Marlee! You're making me feel so bad about myself. Seriously, though, don't be so sad. After all those horrible things she's said to all the servants, not even Jesus would feel bad for her."

Marlee shrugged. To cover up her shock and sorriness, she corrected her friend, "That disease is called phthisis."

"I told you it sounded like spit!" Marjorie giggled.

Marlee looked around. "Why are there suddenly so many people?" She asked.

They were at the market, walking down the center path. People lined the edge of the path; some pretended to be looking at the sales, some were glancing around nervously, and some were pacing back and forth.

"They must be waiting for something." Marjorie shrugged. "Maybe someone's coming back from the war. Did your father go to war? Mine was excused by Lord Horne."

Marlee nodded. "Father stayed because he's a farmer, but I heard the carpenter Wilfred Harrisone joined and died. Mrs. Harrisone is devastated! Did you know she was a week away from delivery when that happened? She had no choice but to receive the baby, though. Also, how can our small town produce such a powerful veteran that everyone has come out to wait?"

"Good point," Marjorie smiled and nodded, "but it is weird that Lord Horne went off to the battle when he could've stayed with his family. You know, watch Baby Edlyn grow up. He could've easily paid a knight to go for him."

"Maybe he didn't want to be around his horrible wife?" Marlee joked.

The girls almost fell over in giggles.

Through the laughter, Marlee looked behind her, searching for friendly and familiar faces to ask for an explanation of the situation, but gave up. She never hangs out much in town, having spent most of her time at either her family's farm or at Horne Manor. Marlee eventually fully turned around to look at what was behind her and let Marjorie guide her. She imagined that all these people, who were all somehow staring in her direction and standing outside, were admiring her and following her, not waiting for a war veteran's return.

Marlee, get out of the way!"

"What?"

A strong jerk in her arm. Marlee lost her balance. She fell to the dirt and was dragged to the side of the road by Marjorie, who was still tightly clasping her hand.

"Woah." Marlee heard Marjorie whisper from behind her.

Both girls were lying on the ground, their hands clenched together. Marlee was trembling and covered in a cold sweat. In one instant, she had gone from walking backwards and having fun to being scared for her life.

"What was that?" Marlee asked. "Why did you pull me off the streets?"

"Stop!" Said a male voice above Marlee.

Marlee sat up, her head dizzy from falling on the ground too hard, but her mind instantly cleared after seeing what had appeared on the road. In front of her was a carriage bigger than her family bed, harnessed to six horses. The wood of the carriage was elegantly carved with floral art and painted with red and black stripes. The windows were curtained with fabric even more costly than Marlee's family's entire farm.

"Oh, the stupid elites with their stupid money." Marjorie breathed under her breath.

A teenager, around eighteen, jumped out of the carriage, which had stopped next to the girls. His eyes were wide, and his brows twisted into a knot.

Marlee inhaled sharply.

The boy had glamorous green eyes, like the emeralds from Lady Joyce's jewelry collection glistening in the sun. He had olive-black hair, a common occurrence, but Marlee had never experienced such an urge to run her fingers through it. When he realized that Marlee and Marjorie weren't hurt, he smiled crookedly, his eyes sparkled, and Marlee's heart melted.

Was she dreaming?

"I'm so sorry for almost running over you," he apologized. "We didn't see you on the road. Isn't it dangerous? Walking in public? Alone? Just two girls?"

He stuck out his hand. Marlee grabbed it to stand up, but almost fainted from the pure strength she felt from those arms clasped tight over hers. She was pulled onto her feet, and the boy stared at Marlee with interest and intent. Marlee's stomach twisted in a reef knot, and her heart thumped like a rabbit running. Sadly for Marlee, the moment passed too quickly. The boy looked away bashfully and dropped Marlee's hand.

Behind Marlee, Marjorie had already stood up by herself. She cleared her throat and commented, "Not to interrupt anything, whoever you are, but thanks for helping us out. In case you didn't notice, Marlee almost died!"

The boy looked at Marjorie, laughing nervously, and said, "And I apologize so much for that. In fact, how about I give you a ride to your destination?"

Marjorie humped, but Marlee could tell that she was trying not to smirk. She strutted towards the carriage, her head held high. Blowing off the boy's attempts to help her on the carriage, Marjorie jumped on.

The boy turned to Marlee. "Marlee, isn't it? Love your name."

Marlee felt her face heating up. She grinned. Marjorie might not like this boy, but she definitely did. However, Marlee tried to act cool, nonchalantly informing the boy, "We're going to Horne Manor."

"That's actually where we are headed right now."

Marlee knew she shouldn't take rides from strangers. She had heard of girls being kidnapped by seemingly nice men and sold into slavery before. She also knew that she hadn't gotten the baby clothes for the lady yet. She decided it was worth it. The boy was obviously trying to make up for almost running her over.

On the carriage ride, Marlee chatted with the boy while Marjorie crashed on the soft, velvet seats, staring out the curtained window, occasionally yelling to a passerby, "Hello! I'm moving in a horse-drawn box!".

The boy's name was Edmund Haywoode. He was eighteen, and he was traveling alone. Lord Horne and Lady Joyce were distant relatives he wanted to stay on good terms with. His parents were coming a week later due to having other matters to deal with first. He was the heir of a long line of nobles.

Marlee listened intently to Edmund, hanging on every word. She laughed at his jokes and nodded at his opinions. She knew it was probably one of the only ways she could attract this young man.

"Can we call you Eddie?" Marjorie asked, still gawking out of the carriage window at the peaceful countryside they were passing.

Marlee was too filled with shock at the speed they were moving at.

"Call me what you like." Edmund replied and winked, his eyes twinkling at Marlee.

Everyone in the carriage laughed as they arrived at the front gates of the manor. Lady Joyce was still inside, waiting for the baby clothes.

Edmund and Marlee stood outside Horne Manor while his men unloaded his baggage.

"So, will I be seeing you around?" Edmund asked hopefully.

Marlee was taken aback. Did this charming noble even want to see her? Was he just being nice to make up for the accident earlier? Marlee's stomach was filled with butterflies, hoping that her new friend was truly interested in her.

Marlee tried to bat her eyelashes, looking innocently at Edmund. She replied, "Only if you spend time with the lady's daughter, Edlyn."

Edmund stared back at her. He grinned and said, "Noted. Hey --"

Running towards the back of the manor, Marjorie yelled, "Marlee Harlowe! We have to get inside! The devil cannot find out about this."

Marlee whipped around. Marjorie was right. She had to leave. Quickly, she said to Edmund, "Um, I'll see you around!"

"Yeah! I'll catch up with you later!" Edmund called at Marlee, who was running towards her friend. "By the way! I love your junket-colored dress!"

Marlee smiled at the compliment. She liked the butterscotch too. She caught up to Marjorie, getting pulled into the back entrance of the manor.

Marlee hissed at Marjorie, "Come on! Why so fast? I wanted to talk with him more!"

Marjorie wrinkled her nose. She remarked, "I don't like him. He smells of money. A lot of gold. He's probably drowning too much in his gold to care a thing about you."

Marlee giggled, "Hey! He is such a fine gentleman! He gave us a ride back here, even though we forgot the errands Lady Joyce sent us on!"

"Yeah, that she-devil's really going to blow it this time!" Marjorie laughed.

"It's worth it." Marlee blushed and smiled. She realized Marjorie was frowning at her and asked, "What? It is worth getting yelled at for a lovely carriage ride."

"What time," Marjorie questioned slowly, "did you say you were going to meet the love of your life again?"

Marlee's heart stopped with disbelief. She couldn't believe her plan was going so smoothly. Joy flushed through her body, and she grinned, resisting the urge to jump up and down.

"Sixteen. Why? Oh! Sweet, holy Jesus! You think so?"

Marjorie clasped her hand to her forehand. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. She muttered, "Oh no. How are you so accurate? Oh no, no, no. Please, no."

"It's nice to be around on the farm! I love this place. We should do this more often!" Marjorie happily said this to Marlee as they strolled through Marlee's family farm.

"Yeah, what would you do without me? It's not like Lady Joyce would invite us over for dinner." Marlee replied, kicking at the dirt at her feet.

Marjorie frowned at Marlee. She asked, "What's the matter? Dream boy forgot to reply?"

Marlee laughed. She recalled Edmund's smile for the hundredth time since turning seventeen the day before, his green eyes sparkling and his mouth curving up. Marlee smiled too. She shook her head and said, "No, his last letter arrived yesterday. On my Saint's Day! How coincidental is that?"

"Yeah, I still don't get how you manage to reply with your letters. How do you get the letters to his manor? Wait," Marjorie helped up a finger, "how do you get the letters to his castle-sized mansion? That entitled fop, owning an entire mansion."

Marlee shrugged and said, "I offer to help Lady Joyce with her mail and split my letters into her stack. I also told the messenger that it was important family business so that he wouldn't open the letters. Now the devil's stopping with the obnoxious side comments about me resembling a cob of corn!"

Marjorie mimicked, "Well, well, well, don't you look like a jar of honey today, Marlee? No one likes an expired jar. If you want to attract friends, try being sweeter and clean! I suggest cleaning those sticky fingers of Edlyn's first!"

"I told you those comments were mean!" Marlee argued. "How bad are her comments about you?"

Marjorie looked up at the gray clouds. She recalled, "She gave me a list of ways to 'increase metabolism,' whatever that means. Plus, I can't even read!"

"I wish I wasn't this skinny. I haven't eaten a proper meal in ages! She hasn't hosted a dinner party for so long. I know we're in the middle of a drought and everything, but the rich can afford whatever! I also lost a bet with the twins yesterday, so I have to bring strawberry pudding home within the next week."

"Is that what's bothering you? Losing a bet? Being skinny?"

Marlee sighed. If only it was that simple. "No," she said, "it's about my family's harvest."

Marjorie cocked her head and knit her eyebrows. She looked behind her at the fields and observed, "They look fine. Close to empty, but fine. That's because your dad's harvested most of it, right?"

Marlee shook her head and said, "No."

Marjorie mouthed an "O" and put her arm around Marlee's shoulder. Marlee leaned against her friend as they walked.

"Wanna talk about it?" Marjorie asked.

"Well, there was a hurricane last year that blew out most of the crops, so we had to harvest. Now, there's a drought, and only a few stacks of wheat survived to be reaped. That happened for both our and Horne's lands."

Marjorie immediately stopped and pulled Marlee into a tight hug. Marlee buried her face into the rough fabric of her friend's skirt, her lips suddenly trembling. Marjorie whispered, "You guys are going to be fine. Next year, everything will go back to normal."

"Honestly, I'm not even sure what normal is anymore," Marlee said softly. "First I start working for the crone as a babysitter, then the harvests start failing every year, and next I start falling for a gorgeous noble who's at least five classes above me! I just want things to go back to the way they were before."

Marjorie let go of Marlee and looked at her sternly. "Hey! Everything is going to be just fine. They might not go back to when you were like twelve, but they will get better. God will make sure things work out."

"Marjorie, I don't," Marlee looked around, making sure no one was around, "I don't believe in God. I don't believe in that web of lies." Marlee gasped, letting go of Marjorie and clasping her hands to her face. She exclaimed, "Maybe that's why my life is going downhill! God does exist and is punishing me for this all through recreating every aspect of my life!" Marlee frantically spun around, running towards her house.

Marjorie started chasing after Marlee, yelling, "Where are you going? It's OK to not believe in something enforced upon you by society."

Marlee screamed back, "I need to find a Vulgate! I need to find a Vulgate! There's a Vulgate in the kitchen!"

Marjorie shouted, "You don't even know how to read!"

"God will teach me how, if he even exists!"

Marlee frantically stormed into her house, digging around in her mother's drawers and cupboards, looking for the small Vulgate that she needed.

"What are you looking for, Marles?" Mrs. Harlowe asked. "I am really concerned with you right now!" She was sitting with a mug of hot water at the dining table, waiting for the soup to finish. She stood up and walked over to Marlee.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marlee saw Marjorie shaking her head at her mother. She made a slicing motion with her flat hand across her neck.

"She's having a meltdown. She thinks all her problems come from being an atheist." Marjorie explained, leaning against the doorway of Marlee's house. "Jesus, Marlee. You almost ran over the door, trying to get in here!"

"Oh, Marles. You don't need to be Christian to be happy."

Marlee stopped her rummaging. Without turning around, Marlee slowly said, "Mother, you are Christian, and you are married. Father is Christian, and he has food. Edmund is Christian, and he is rich. If I were Christian, I could have all three of those things!" Then she went back to tearing apart the storage boxes.

"Oh, dear Lord. Is this about that rich guy you're corresponding with?" Mrs. Harlowe asked.

Marjorie groaned, "Not Eddie again! Jesus, you guys need to stop obsessing over this guy. He's nothing but a sore loser. His nice manners shouldn't fool anyone!"

"I just need a Vulgate, Mother! Please help me!" Marlee wailed, fumbling to open one of the drawers. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, and her face was covered with a sheen of cold sweat.

Marjorie sighed, "Honey, we are just going to stand here staring uncomfortably until you calm down. You need to get your energy out somehow."

Marlee yanked the bottom left drawer open, and there lay a small, thick book. The covers and pages were faded, as were the words and pictures inside. Marlee, with trembling hands, picked up the Vulgate and held it to her chest.

"Maybe," she stammered, "maybe all our problems would be solved."

Marlee drew a shaky breath. She turned around, facing the two women in the kitchen. Slowly, Marlee opened up the old book, gazing down at the symbols and characters on the page. Was that her ticket to happiness?

Marjorie walked to Marlee, flinging her arms around her shoulders. "Oh, enlighten me."

Marlee gasped. Running her finger down the rows of gibberish. She couldn't understand anything. Slowly, she slid to the floor, hugging her knees. Marjorie sat down, too.

"Mother?" Marlee whispered, focusing on the legs of the dining table.

"Yes? Sweetheart? I know girls your age do this a lot, but what's wrong?"

"Please leave. I just want to be alone with Marjorie. I think my life is over, but nothing is wrong."

Mrs. Harlowe got up, saying, "I'll go check on your dad and the twins." She smiled kindly at Marlee, making her wish she wasn't kicking her own mother out of the house.

Marjorie eyes Mrs. Harlowe walked out of the house and closed the door, then immediately turned to Marlee and embraced her. She pouted, "This really is about Edmund, isn't it?"

Marlee's voice was quivering, but she replied, "Edmund wouldn't like me if he found out that I wasn't a good Christian girl. He would throw me away and find a Catholic heiress."

Marjorie scrunched up her face and said, "Marlee. Listen. You can't rely on factors like your religious beliefs to attract someone. Edmund likes you for who you are, not for the fake Christian girl scam. Maybe you should show him who you really are?"

Marlee stared at Marjorie. Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes opened wide. "What if he hates the real me?" She asked. "Then he really will go for a Catholic heiress!"

"If he doesn't like you," Marjorie vowed, "I will hunt him down and murder him."

"Don't hurt him!" Marlee cried.

Upon that, Marlee felt a single tear trickle down her face. More followed. She didn't want to lose Edmund, not after spending a year writing letters and obsessing nonstop. She tried to imagine never seeing those green eyes again, and the tears came rolling faster. She whimpered quietly.

"Maybe it's worth it, Marlee," Marjorie whispered softly, brushing the tears from Marlee's face. "Maybe it's worth it."

Marlee ran down the streets alone, clutching a satchel holding a bowl of strawberry pudding inside. Lady Joyce had finally decided to invite Edmund and his family to Horne Manor, throwing a feast while doing so. Marlee, back on her routine of snatching the leftovers, eyed the pudding like an eagle while it was brought out to the Lords and Ladies. When the pudding was brought back, half-eaten, Marlee jumped up, yelled that she felt sick, and dumped the pudding into a closed bowl to take back.

It was an hour-long ride back home, but Marlee didn't have a ride, and she didn't want her brothers to miss out on the food, so she sprinted down the dirt path through town.

Marlee recalled Edmund's beautiful face when she brought Edlyn into the dining hall. Edmund hadn't changed: the same emerald eyes, the same warm grin, and the same muscular build. Marlee smiled at Edmund before lowering her head and scurrying into the kitchen to hide, getting a nasty side comment from Lady Joyce.

Marlee guessed that she was still fifty minutes away from home. She briefly stopped to catch her breath, having never run such long distances. She dropped her bag to the ground, exhaustion filling every vein in her body. She bent over and gasped for air. In the heat of the moment, Marlee had completely forgotten to get anything for herself or give an explanation to Marjorie, who was going to be working late.

Marlee wished her father was there. Usually, he would pick her up in his wheat wagon, but lately, Marlee had been staying at the manor, working night shifts, so she wasn't expected home for another month.

Marlee had run out of town and was in the middle of nowhere. The dirt path was still there, winding towards the farms and pastures. Suddenly, Marlee felt alone, vulnerable, and small. She wished that Edmund was with her in his comfy horse-drawn carriage, accompanying her home.

Marlee sat down on the edge of the dirt path. Her mustard-colored dress was going to get dirt streaks, but Marlee was too drained to care. She rubbed her tired and sore arms and legs. She eyed the pudding, wondering if she could just nibble a tiny bit of it, but she shook her head. She massaged her aching stomach, which hadn't been fed properly for days.

Marlee knew she had to stand up and keep walking. She wasn't safe out here. Over the years, she had heard of numerous accounts of barbarians and burglars stealing goods and kidnapping people. She tried to slap herself awake.

Marlee felt soft leather under her. She heard the soft rumbling of wheels and the clip-clopping of horses against the ground. She didn't open her eyes immediately but decided to enjoy the rhythm of moving in a cart for a little longer. She noticed she was tangled in a piece of fabric, and her fatigue instantly faded. Her instincts told her that she had ended up being abducted by one of those bandits her mother had warned her about.

Marlee opened her eyes wide and started struggling to escape the blanket she was tangled in. She frantically looked out the window, hoping for a passerby to yell at. Her heart started beating like a distressed rat.

She untangled herself from the wool blanket and tried to stand up, but someone beside her pulled her down.

"Woah, easy there! Calm down." A familiar voice said

She turned to face the person, but her soul almost jumped out of her body.

"Edmund!" She squealed. She tackled him in a hug, burying her face into his soft fur coat.

He let out a booming laugh, embracing Marlee and ruffling her already messy blonde hair. He said, "I was on my way to visit your family. I got directions from my aunt. She gave me a weird look, but it's worth it!"

"Why didn't you wake me?" Marlee asked, the exhaustion leaving her as happiness flooded the carriage.

Edmund let go of Marlee and examined her at arms length. He observed, "You looked so tired and beautiful when you were sleeping. When was the last time you slept or ate properly? Doesn't my aunt feed you?"

Marlee shrugged, "Nope. But I'm used to it. I've been sleeping over at the manor the past few nights because Edlyn has nightmares. Your cousin has some serious physical issues. She's a six-year-old dreaming of her father at war every night."

Edmund frowned. "I'll have to look into that."

Marlee batted her eyelashes and said, "Look at you, acting like the one in charge!"

Edmund blushed, and Marlee's heart warmed. Her empty stomach filled up with butterflies. Somehow, her mood was always better when Edmund was talking to her or when he was happy. She leaned against Edmund's shoulder as the carriage entered her father's farm.

A sudden realization sank in, and Marlee sat up straight. She exclaimed, "Oh my! You're here to meet my parents?"

Edmund grinned and nodded, "Yep! You've unofficially met my parents, so I'm here to officially meet yours!"

A cold sweat sped down Marlee's spine. She bit her lip, but she forced a smile and gushed, "They're going to love you!"

They got out of the carriage and walked through the breezy fields.

Marlee looked at the carriage and observed, "Is it that you change a horse and a carriage every year, or do you just have multiple?"

Edmund stared skeptically at Marlee and asked, "Are you going to tell your friend Marjorie?"

Marlee held out her pinky towards Edmund and promised, "Marjorie won't hear a thing about your multiple carriages."

Edmund laughed and held Marlee's pinky in his. His eyes glistened in the sun as he confessed, "Marlee Harlowe, you know me so well."

"Marlee!" Two simultaneous voices squealed from the distance.

Marlee brightened up. Her eleven-year-old brothers raced towards her.

They came to a stop in front of Marlee, panting heavily.

"Wow," Marlee laughed, "you boys really need some exercise!"

Leofric crosses his arms and angrily asks, "Where is the pudding?"

Lyndon frowned and eyed Marlee. "Yeah! You promised strawberry pudding."

Marlee scoffed and rolled her eyes. She held up her satchel and proudly announced, "Here's the pudding. Calm down. Quit the attitude."

The twins nodded calmly with satisfaction, then Lyndon pointed at Edmund. He asked, "Who is that? Marlee, did you finally make a new friend?"

Ten minutes later, everyone—Marlee, her parents, the twins, and Edmund—sat around the dinner table. Marlee kept shifting sitting positions, wishing someone would break the overwhelming awkwardness and tension within the room. She didn't know what to say or what to do. She knew her parents would like Edmund, but her heart jumped crazily thinking of what her brothers thought of him. Marlee loved Leofric and Lyndon, but they were simply too embarrassing sometimes.

Edmund was entertaining Marlee's entire family, patiently answering their weird questions. Marlee wanted to shrink with each query.

Mrs. Harlowe asked, "Which family do you come from?"

"Oh, it's Haywoode. Edmund Haywoode. Actually, my parents are in town at Horne Manor if you want to meet them!" Edmund cheerfully answered.

"Well," Mrs. Harlowe smiled at Marlee. "At least your initials won't change, Marles!"

"How many farms does your family own?" Mr. Harlowe inquired.

"There's."

"Sounds like a man who knows his people well!" Mr. Harlowe laughed, clapping Edmund on the back.

Marlee laughed. She loved that her parents were getting along with Edmund, but there was a part of her that told her she was making a mistake. A big mistake. She stared at her brothers, waiting for them to embarrass her or Edmund.

"We have a question." Leofric said, raising his voice over Edmund and Marlee's father chatting about harvest.

"Yes." Lyndon crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, signaling for his twin to do the same.

"Well, I'm happy to answer that question." Edmund grinned, clapping his hands together, and looked expectantly at the twins.

"Are you going to marry our sister?" Lyndon asked at the same moment Leofric asked, "Are you going to leave our sister?"

An overwhelming silence and tension followed. Edmund looked sheepishly down at his lap, and Marlee covered her face with her hands.

Finally, Edmund looked at Marlee with those emerald eyes. He blushed but said, "Do you want to try that out?"

Marlee's heart sank. Was Edmund breaking up with her? She cocked her head and squinted her eyes. She replied, "It depends on which question you are referring to."

"Let's go for a walk." Edmund stood up.

"Yeah." The twins stood up as well, their arms crossed. "Let's amble around the farm."

Mrs. Harlowe opened her mouth, no words coming out, but finally mustered, "What's happening?"

Lyndon raised his chin to look down upon Marlee, who mouthed "What?" to her younger brothers. He answered, "That depends as well."

Marlee quickly stood up and grabbed Edmund by the arm. She yelled, "We are going out! Just the two of us. Not the twins."

She dragged Edmund slowly towards the front door. She turned around to see both of her brothers standing on the dinner table and her parents looking confused.

Leofric and Lyndon shouted at Marlee in unison, "Marlee, you are not going to be married, then taken by that guy millions of pastures away to some faraway kingdom and leave us here! That's not how the world works."

Marlee turned back to the door and started dragging Edmund out. She said, "I think that is exactly how everything around her works!"

"We knew you would leave! You are just going to abandon everyone you knew and go play with those elitist snobs!" Lyndon cried. His eyes were slightly red, and his face was scrunched up.

Leofric added in a shrill voice, "You don't get to choose to just leave us all in the dirt while you go to those fancy dances in rich dresses! Edmund isn't right. We don't like him!"

Marlee screamed back, "Don't you dare talk to Edmund like that!" She surged forward, but Edmund pulled her back.

"Marles, calm down." Mrs. Harlowe stood up. "Don't listen to your brothers. You can be with whoever you want. Though it would be nice if Edmund invited us all to live with you guys,"

"Actually, all of you guys can come stay with us at my mansion if you want." He offered.

"Shut up!" Everyone yelled.

Surprised, Marlee turned back around to face her family, clutching Edmund's hands. It was the first time they had agreed on something for years. She opened her mouth, her eyes wide, but disaster struck.

Two slips. Two falls. Two crashes. A single piercing scream that split the world apart.

"It wasn't your fault, Marlee! Leofric and Lyndon—"

"Don't say their names! I'm so upset. If I had anywhere else to go, I would be storming out of the mansion right now!"

Marlee hugged her legs, sobbing into her dress. She sat on Edmund's silk bed. She didn't know what had triggered this fight, but she did know it wasn't the first one they had had since Edmund proposed. She also knew that she was bawling on her betrothed's bed, who was yelling at her to rethink the past year of her life.

"Marlee! Listen to your senses. They probably had some sort of sickness that caused both of them to faint and fall!" Edmund shouted at her. He put his hands up in his hair, his muscles straining.

"I did kill my brothers, Edmund! It's all my fault," Marlee wailed. "Stop pretending nothing happened, even though my world has been shredded apart in the past year."

Marlee gasped and sobbed into her knees. She couldn't and wouldn't deal with a person, even if it was Edmund, talking about her dead brothers' as if they were accidents.

"I don't know. Maybe start by taking responsibility without you shouting at me?" Marlee croaked.

"Oh! I'm the evil person now?" Edmund half screamed, half asked, spreading his arms wide. "This has nothing to do with Leofric and Lyndon, does it? It's you having survivor's guilt! You've been lying to yourself for so long, Marlee. You can't even distinguish between the truth and your imagination. You--"

"Edmund! Stop!" Marlee yelled. She shut her eyes and covered her ears.

"No! You have to come to your senses! You're a complete mess right now! I was there! OK? I saw what happened. Lyndon was in a state of shock. He slipped, grabbing onto Leofric, but Leofric also slipped. You have to stop kidding yourself."

Oh, now you're telling me what to do?"

"What? No! No! I'm simply suggesting that you shouldn't blame yourself for past incidents."

"My brothers are dead, Edmund! They were angered and surprised by me. They slipped and fell because they were angry at me! That wasn't a past incident. It's a very current pain and another strike on my guilty conscience."

Marlee gasped. A sudden realization hit her. She cried, "Oh! I haven't thought of this in that way! I'm a murderer!" With that, she buried her head into one of Edmund's silk pillows and bawled uncontrollably.

"Marlee." Edmund sighed, exasperated. His volume was gone, replaced with his usual soft tone.

Marlee removed her head from the pillow, her eyes red and tears rolling down her face. "Do you even love me? You're always criticizing me so much. I'm only two years younger than you. I'm not a child! Do you even love me?" Marlee asked.

She stared into Edmund's emerald eyes, the same pair of eyes that had made her fall in love in the first place. She noticed the brightness in those eyes was gone, replaced with a dull pine color.

He lowered his head. Slowly, he walked over to Marlee and sat down next to her.

Marlee's heart clenched. What was happening?

After a moment, Edmund looked up. Solemnly, he gazed at Marlee. He remarked, "You're so beautiful. I love your golden dress. You're like my muse, my goddess."

"You got me that dress yesterday. It's not even special. That couturier had hundreds of those same dresses. Are you going to love the hundred other women who have this dress?"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's not like that!"

"You don't even love me, do you?"

Edmund's hurt eyes stared at Marlee. He was biting his lip. Marlee's heart collapsed into despair.

Marlee paused. She didn't want to ask, but she said, "You just want to marry some random girl as soon as possible to impress your parents, don't you? I was just a game for experience all along, wasn't I? None of this ever meant anything to you, did it?"

"If what you're saying is true, wouldn't I just settle with a noble's daughter?" Edmund smiled, chuckling.

"Jesus christ! You bedswerver!" Marlee gasped. She jumped out of bed and backed away from Edmund. Her red eyes were wide with surprise. How could Edmund be so direct? "I knew you were up to no good!" She yelled.

Edmund shook his head. He exclaimed, "No! Never mind! Wrong time for jokes. Sorry. Never mind."

He let out a hand, which Marlee stepped forward to hold, getting back on the bed. Edmund wrapped his arm around her shoulder. They sat in silence as Marlee digested.

"You really don't love me?" Marlee quietly whispered.

Edmund closed his eyes and sighed. "Since that very first day that my carriage almost ran over you, my heart has been forever bound to yours. You make me so happy by just existing, and I never want that to end." He replied, tightening his grasp around Marlee.

Marlee smiled to herself. She replied, "I love you, too."

"Father, you will get better. The barber-surgeon, Dexter Cokee, said that you would make a full recovery in no time." Marlee promised.

On the bed lay the frail figure of Marlee's father. He was in deep sleep, his chest rising and falling as his lungs fought for air with each ragged breath. Marlee bit her lip, a tear running down her wet cheeks. She brushed her cold fingertips across her father's burning face.

Marlee sighed, brushing her tears away. She continued, "Cokee is the best one around. He's the master; at least that's what Edmund told me. Cokee thinks you have the flux. Mother's worried sick, you know? She's on a comfort walk with Marjorie out in the gardens. She thinks a demon from hell has come to punish us."

Marlee stared at her father for a minute, willing him to wake up and laugh his illness away. Her father would jump out of bed and hug Marlee. He would spin her around and compliment her ochre-colored dress, making a side comment about her love of yellow clothes.

Marlee shook her head, clearing the fantasies away. She tried to keep calm, so she continued talking. Examining her nails, Marlee informed her father, "I don't think I can stand staying with Edmund now. Maybe Marjorie was right: he really wasn't right for me. I haven't seen him in days. God knows where he wandered off to this time."

Marlee bit her lip.

"Speaking of Edmund," Marlee continued. "I always wanted three kids. I'm twenty-one now. I wanted a son by twenty, a daughter by twenty-two, and another son by twenty-five. I don't see how that's possible for me anymore. I don't want children with Edmund. I can't even stand to be in the same room with him sometimes."

Marlee felt a lump build up in her throat. She added, "I would've named the girl Lillen. It means Lily, you know?"

Marlee took his thin hands into hers, bringing them to her lips. She let her tears flow. She only allowed herself to cry when her father was asleep.

Quietly, Marlee noted, "We were supposed to get a dog, remember? After my twelfth Saint's Day, the harvest was incredible. Leofric and Lyndon wanted

Marlee's voice shook. She had to stop herself. She lowered her head, still clutching on to her father's hand. After deep breaths, Marlee continued, "Leofric and Lyndon wanted to name it Leanne. It was a really wonderful name for a dog."

Marlee smiled to herself, which only made her cry worse. Big droplets fell onto the silk folds of her father's bedsheets, creating gray stains in the perfectly white fabric.

"I wanted to name it Milton. Do you remember? I don't know why that was such a deep memory for me, but it was really special to think of what could've been if so many things hadn't happened."

She examined her father's calloused hands, something she realized she had never done. A lifetime of physical labor and farming had marked those hands with rough, thickened skin. Those hands were evident of hard work, from gripping tools to grasping heavy loads.

Marlee wondered about the harvest this year. Maybe the fields would've been thriving with healthy crops of wheat, swaying in the wind and glowing golden under the brilliant sun. Marlee would've run through the fields, brushing her hands past the rows and rows of unharvested produce, laughing joyously as if she hadn't a care in the world.

Marlee thought of the sowing machine that used to be back home. It had been sold once the harvests worsened every year.

If only Marlee had spent more time weaving clothes with her mother; if only Marlee had spent more time helping with the harvest with her father; if only Marlee had spent more time playing with her dead brothers. Now the chances were gone. Things were never going back to normal.

"There are so many things our family didn't do." Marlee croaked.

With that, Marlee gave up her silent crying. She laid her head on the bedsheets and started bawling. Her once composed demeanor was now shattered; her sobs wracked her body with each inhale. She whimpered and wailed, tears cascading down her face, mirroring the anguish within her.

Marlee wished her father would wake up, fever gone, and laugh, explaining that it was all a prank. She wished her mother and Marjorie were there to comfort her, to hug her, and to tell her it was OK.

Momentarily, Marlee stopped crying and looked up at her feverish father. Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot, revealing a profound sense of hopelessness.

Even without feeling her father's forehead, Marlee knew his entire body would be scorchingly hot. Mr. Harlowe stirred, his breathing intensifying. Instead of waking up, however, his hands moved to his stomach.

Marlee sniffled. She hated seeing her father in pain. Over the past few weeks, he had been losing weight, violently vomiting, and raging with a continuous fever. Marlee's father had been losing more energy as his suffering increased. The religious herbs and flowers provided by Doctor Cokee had not only failed to fulfill their expectations but had also intensified the sickness. Recently, the pain, according to her father, had slightly plateaued, which had allowed for hope in Marlee's heart.

But that's when it hit her.

Shakily, quietly sobbing, Marlee confessed, "I just wanted everything to never change. Was that too much to ask for?" She took a moment to gently wipe away her tears with the folds of her dress, then continued on to ask, "But you're not surviving, are you? Cokee was lying to me all along."