The Curse of the Blessed

Chapter Fifty

The party ended at midnight, we all filed home and went to sleep, and... life returned to normal. I didn't yet know whether it was good normal or bad normal.

I woke at dawn—with the rise of the sun and the crow of the rooster—and went to water the garden and gather eggs from the chicken coop in the back yard. Mam woke then, too, and began to work at her mending. Some days she baked bread. Other days she didn't.

We'd eat breakfast, and then we'd get to work: cleaning the house, running errands for the neighbors, harvesting produce to sell on market day, weeding the garden.

The days were full of physical work, and at first, I went to bed satisfied. Soon, that changed. It was monotonous. The same thing: again, and again, and again, until I was doing everything except for really living.

It had been fine before I left. I'd taken comfort in the easy routines. Now it was boring. Now nothing new seemed to ever happen. I'd reluctantly left for adventure, and come back unable to deal with the lack of it.

While Mam didn't notice, Aunt Marla did.

"You seem different," she said. "What's wrong?"

But I remembered what Mam had said about the villagers thinking that I'd come back too high and mighty for them. Aunt Marla had defended me then, but if she realized Mam had been right, would she continue to do so?

"I'm all right," I said. "Just tired."

I wasn't lying. Not really. I was only leaving out a bit of the truth.

Market day rolled around soon enough, and the sudden transfer from nothing happening to everything happening—with all the noise and crowds and interactions that entailed—almost sent me into a downward spiral.

Luckily, I was too excited to pay heed to the fast-beating manner of my heart. I'd been too busy until now—but on this market day, I'd get to see my friends and have a good, long talk with them for the first time in weeks.

I'd missed them. A lot. Every time I thought of something funny to say, or remembered a detail from our adventures, or woken up breathing hard from a nightmare about the Magician, I'd wanted to sneak away from my responsibilities and visit them. I'd wanted to use our Blessings and talk and laugh together until our throats hurt.

When I saw a flash of Lark's dirty blonde hair through the crowd, I quickly headed in that direction, tapping her on the shoulder when I caught up to her.

She whirled around. A bright grin spread on her face when she saw me. "Fyra! I was hoping I'd run into you. Reed's hanging out at Bran's table. We thought you might like to join us."

"Are you kidding?" I said. "Of course I want to hang out with you. It's been too long."

"Agreed."

She grabbed my hand so we wouldn't be separated, and together, we wove through the mass of people who were buying and selling and talking.

Like she'd said, Bran and Reed were hanging out together at Bran's table. Reed tossed back his head and laughed at something Bran had said.

Lark and I sat down in some extra chairs beside the table.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Potato puns," said Reed.

Lark rolled her eyes. "Great." She turned to me. "I'm not sure I've ever told you this, but Reed has a terrible sense of humor."

He glared at her. "I do not!"

"Yes you do," she said, laughing.

"Then why do you laugh anyway?"