She was lying on a patch of grass on the side of a mossy green hill, looking up at the blue sky above. Overhead, she heard a falcon cry, but other than that, it was silent and peaceful. She took a deep breath and inhaled the earthy scents surrounding her on this mossy green hill, and, as she breathed deeper, she could smell damp peat from the bog in the south. It must have been a strong southerly breeze because when she focused on the scent, there was also a tinge of salt from the southern Sea of Ys.
She continued lying there, breathing in the intoxicating smells of the natural world. If one were to look upon her now, they would see a lovely young woman in the prime of her youth, but then, if they were to look closer, they would notice that her face, golden brown hair, and pale green eyes were all the likeness of the princess of Vallin, Calandra Alpin. However, the similarities would end there. This young woman wore a simple wool dress that was old and threadbare and too warm for this time of year, but she did not have another dress to wear, and the weather wasn't warm enough for her only summer dress yet. She was a peasant, but she was not plain. Her bright eyes and even brighter smile shone like the sun. Her hair came to her waist, and she wore it long and loose, as was the fashion with the unmarried girls in her village, but often, she would braid wildflowers in her hair when she found them. Around her hips was a braided leather belt, and attached to it was a leather pouch filled with the things she had collected: herbs, berries, and flowers that would be used for tea.
"Amara!"
Just when things were peaceful.
"Amara! Where are you?"
Amara sat up. "Over here."
"You're so lazy. I always know where to find you, some secluded place so you can shirk your duties." It was Saoirse, her best friend from the village, and her only friend.
Amara stood up and dusted herself off. She turned to her friend and playfully propped her hip out, alluding to the pouch at her side. "Already collected all that I needed for today."
Saoirse pinned her short yellow bob behind her ears so she could get a better look at Amara's leather pouch.
"See." Amara opened her pouch, revealing it was indeed stuffed with herbs for stew, berries for lunch, and flowers for afternoon tea.
"How did you manage that?" Saoirse asked. It was a genuine question and not necessarily rhetorical.
"Well," Amara retorted with a slight hint of pride, "if you cared more about plants and nature, you would know where to find them."
"I have bigger dreams than collecting plants my whole life," Saoirse grumbled.
"Oh, I know," Amara answered with sarcasm. "And they all involve a certain boy."
"Shh," Saoirse hushed her, trying to cover Amara's mouth with her hands, but Amara just laughed at her, backing away. Of course, Amara knew of her crush already because it was impossible to keep anything from each other.
"You promised you'd go with me tonight. Please, I don't want to go alone," Saoirse pleaded.
Amara stopped laughing and winced. She was unsure about this gathering Saoirse invited her to. Wearing black robes and meeting secretly in the middle of the night to pray to a goddess, especially the goddess of death, was something she could never imagine herself doing. Worship of Nyx was forbidden in the kingdom, too, and probably for a reason. Also, the thought of being alone in the middle of the Ancient Ruins at midnight left her with an indiscernible feeling. The whole thing sounded off, but she couldn't determine exactly why.
"I don't know," she answered, stalling.
"You promised, don't forget!" Saoirse pouted, knowing that she could change Amara's mind this way, as it had worked so well for her in past disagreements between the two. Also, if she casually let slip how scared or nervous she was, that would really win Amara to her side. "I don't want to go alone."
Amara did not want to upset her friend, and it would worry her to have her go alone, so she gave in. "Fine, I'll go."
They walked back to the village. Amara linked her arm with Saoirse's.
"Good," Saoirse said, sounding relieved that Amara was not too mad at her. She then changed the conversation to one she often did, especially of late. "I can't believe Brenden spoke to me. It was like a dream."
Amara replied, "Well, he is the most eligible bachelor in Pict."
Saoirse sighed self-deprecatingly. "I know. What would he want with me?"
"That's not what I meant, and you know it! You're very pretty. You'd make anyone happy."
Saoirse shook her head. "If only that were true. I'm poor and ugly. I'll never be able to grow my hair out the way it once was."
Amara wanted to change the subject. No matter how many times she told Saoirse she wasn't ugly, she still wouldn't listen. "Tell me how it happened," she asked, to set a more optimistic tone to their conversation.
Saoirse instantly changed her mood and hummed to herself as if trying to recall it, even though she had gone over the details over and over again thoroughly to Amara countless times before. "He was never one to give me a second look, so I was surprised when he called me out that night."
Love looked good on her. Amara observed Saoirse's profile as she told her story and was stunned by how beautiful her friend looked with her honey-brown eyes and golden hair glistening in the sun as she lovingly recalled the greatest night of her life. Saoirse calling herself ugly was doing her a huge disservice. Amara was glad Saoirse had Brenden there to cheer her up and make her see how beautiful she was.
Saoirse continued, "I was at the market looking at some bread when Brenden walked up to me and told me I looked so lovely, he couldn't allow me to buy it myself, so he bought it for me and even walked me home, carried all my bags for me too. He said he had something important he wanted to tell me, and to meet him that night. So, I washed my hair, put on my best dress, and met him by the bonfire. We talked for hours. He told me about all his hopes and dreams and asked if I felt the same. He was so thoughtful and considerate."
"A Finnegan thoughtful and considerate?" Amara huffed sarcastically. The Lords of Pict were not known for either of those things. In fact, they were more known for the unfair prices of rent on land they'd hiked during the famine a decade earlier.
"Brenden's different!" Saoirse rushed to his defense. "He's not the same as his late father."
"Okay, okay, I believe you." Amara played along. "What did you two do by the bonfire?"
"We sat close together in our own world. Do you remember that night?"
"Yeah. It was cold."
"He put his arm around me and pulled a blanket over my shoulders to keep me warm. I remember everything about his face, the way his brown hair curled around his ears, his dimples as he smiled, and his hazel eyes, the most beautiful of all eye colors. You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because they're not just one color, they're lots of colors."
"But I think your eyes are beautiful."
Either Saoirse ignored Amara's comment, or she didn't hear her. She sighed. "How I got lost in them."
Saoirse had a dreamy look in her eyes as she told the story to Amara, who had already heard it a few times since it happened. But every time she heard it, Amara pretended to be amazed and giggled or sighed during the important parts. Saoirse seemed happy telling it, and love was not something Amara was familiar with, at least not romantic love. She did not have these feelings for any boys in the village and doubted that any harbored feelings for her in return. She and Saoirse, well ... weren't considered marriage material, and that was due mostly to their social status.
Brenden came from the wealthiest family in their village, the Finnegans, who owned the largest pastures and flocks of sheep along with multiple homes, some of which had two or three stories, which they rented out to other villagers for a high price. This, in turn, made the Finnegan brothers the most eligible bachelors in the village, with every young unmarried girl vying and fighting with each other over their affections. This was especially so for Brenden, as he was known as the handsome brother.
On the other hand, Saoirse came from one of the poorest families because her father died in an accident when she was young, and this left her—only a baby at the time—and her mother destitute. Saoirse's mother had to take outside work as a maid from the wealthier families in the village just to have enough to feed them, and this was frowned upon because women were supposed to concern themselves only with their own families and household duties. This meant that Saoirse and her mother's home was ill-kempt, at least in the eyes of others in the village.
Also, her family's poverty was the reason Saoirse had short hair because over the winter, when they didn't have enough food and were on the verge of starvation, she was forced to cut her long hair to sell to wig makers. Saoirse had always prided her long, beautiful hair as the source of her beauty, and it truly was; bright yellow as the sun shining at midday, and had once been long with golden waves cascading down to her ankles. Young unmarried girls from the village would never cut their hair until after marriage, so long hair was a sign of youth and beauty.
Amara did not have hair that was considered long by the standards of the other village girls, as hers only came down to her waist. She did not care much about finding a husband and cut her hair occasionally for practical purposes, it suited her better when she was running through the moor. But Saoirse was different. She was a dreamer. After she had to cut her hair so that she and her mother would survive the winter, she became very depressed and cried often to Amara because she thought she had lost her beauty. She called herself ugly even though Amara tried her best to convince her otherwise. Nothing could help her climb out of that pit of darkness and despair until her meeting with Brenden. That was all she talked about nowadays.
Amara came from a poor family, too. She lived alone with her grandma. They mostly lived off what they grew in their small vegetable patch or what Amara found in the wild, and if they had spare coin, they bought sheep's milk and mutton from the market, never having enough coin to buy any sheep themselves. It was enough for them, but in the village, this made them poor and largely ignored by the other villagers, at least when it came to finding a wife for valuable sons. A dowry was still needed for marriage, even in these small villages, and not something reserved only for princesses and the noble elite. But it was something neither Amara nor Saoirse's family could ever hope to offer.
"Why do you think he chose you?" Amara already knew the answer but wanted to hear it again, as much as Saoirse wanted to tell it.
"I don't know," Saoirse muttered. "There's nothing special about me."
"Are you sure he didn't say anything?" Amara narrowed her eyes on Saoirse in discernment, encouraging her to elaborate more.
Saoirse blushed, and a smile appeared once more on her lovely face. "He told me he noticed my beauty and that he watched me from afar, not having the courage to approach me until that day at the market."
"See, I told you. Don't call yourself ugly anymore."
"That's it!" Saoirse declared. "I'm going to marry him. I've made up my mind. I will either marry Brenden Finnegan or never marry and become a spinster. There is no other path for me."
"Already!" Amara exclaimed. "You barely know him."
Saoirse shook her head. "There is more to knowing someone than time. I felt what was in his heart."
Amara was happy for her friend. If Saoirse needed her company tonight, she would go with her. That's what best friends do for each other.