The Hidden Crystal

Chapter 3

Saturday was more of the same for Iris, just without the interruption that was Kayla. Iris was glad about that. She never liked to scold Kayla, let alone punish her, and the unspoken punishment for disobedience this week was refusing to play with her on Sunday. Iris knew she couldn't follow through with that one. Maybe she could refuse to go to the river, but she couldn't say no to playing with Kayla. Not when she knew exactly why Kayla was always so difficult.

It would have been easier if Kayla hadn't known her parents at all. She'd been three years old when her parents dropped her off at the church, and although her memories of them were hazy, she remembered. Iris' imaginings about her parents were just that: imaginings. The pain of abandonment didn't sting her as much as it did Kayla. And it stung Kayla badly. When it was all too much for her to handle, she'd run away—always to Iris, fortunately. Iris hated to think what could happen to Kayla if she truly ran away.

And she hated disciplining Kayla.

It had to be done, as with any child, and sometimes, a strict punishment was unavoidable, but Iris always hated it. She'd much rather spend Sunday with Kayla in their secret spot by the river, the place where Kayla was happiest.

Iris glanced up at the cloudy sky, wishing it would rain already. If it held off until Sunday, the river wouldn't be an option.

The breeze had been heavy-laden with moisture all day. She'd prioritized her outdoor jobs for the morning, just in case, watching the sky as she worked, but no luck. Then she'd peered through windows as she worked her indoor jobs all afternoon, hoping to see droplets of water trickling down the glass. Nothing. She finally had to give up and begin the arduous back and forth from the river to the various thirsty gardens around town with buckets of water, a chore she'd been putting off, hoping the rain would save her the trouble.

Now, she hoped the rain would wait until Monday, or at least come and go in the night. That would sting after all the hard work she'd done watering gardens, but then she could still go to the river with Kayla, and that was more important to her than sore muscles and bone-weariness when she walked into the inn.

Although Saturday was always the busiest night of the week and it wasn't a good night for Iris to start the evening tired. Especially this Saturday, when the mage and the green-eyed stranger were still renting rooms.

She hadn't seen the mage all day, for which she was thankful, but she had seen the stranger when she'd passed through the market. They hadn't spoken, and yet that chill had run down her spine again. Reminding herself that travelers usually spent more time at the market during the day than any other place in town hadn't eased her discomfort.

She knew he hadn't been following her. She knew she had no cause for concern. But she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling he gave her.

Was he a mage, too? Was that why? Was it just something to do with magic?

She knew next to nothing about magic, and she didn't want to learn. She just wanted to earn her pay for the night and go back to the church to sleep.

The tavern was already full when she arrived, and Mr. Jones was far beyond tipsy and well on his way to black out drunk. She tied on her apron and jumped into the fray, wiping up the mess he made and escorting him to the door. He was singing about Mrs. Jones again when he left. Iris smiled, thinking what an odd couple they made.

Mrs. Jones was all about appearances, dressing and making up her face as if she was the epitome of fashion and beauty. Maybe she had been in her youth. Mr. Jones, on the other hand, was a portly little bald man; friendly butcher by day, friendly drunkard by night. Iris couldn't imagine the two ever meeting, let alone getting married. But they'd found each other somehow, and whatever they had worked for them. Even with Mr. Jones coming home drunk most nights of the week.