The Queen of Grass and Tree (Southwind Knights #2)

Chapter One, Part 1

Chapter I: The Free Way

On the northern edge of Southwind, a mob marched on the Healer’s hut. They were workers, artisans, mothers, and soldiers. Raging, they brandished sticks, swords, and burning torches that lit up the night.

“Healer!” they cried.

“Time’s up!”

“Take your cursed face from our town!”

“Liar!”

“Coward!”

“Murderer!”

“Burn it!”

“Burn it down!”

In the nearby woods, Asher crouched unseen, hidden by his silver, woolen cloak and the thick, enveloping trees. Behind him stood Finn Tailor and Galen the Healer. Asher and Finn watched the chaos unfold as Galen turned away, securing their horse and mule for the imminent journey north.

“They weren’t kidding,” Finn said.

The previous afternoon, upon returning to Southwind, Galen had been sentenced to exile. The Mayor gave him one day to pack and leave forever—or else. Now, over two dozen villagers had come to follow through on that threat.

Asher recognized most of the mob. They had been his neighbors for the last ten years—ever since he and his father moved to Southwind and became Farmers. He spotted the Millers, the Grocer, and kindly old Baker at the front. Their familiar faces were twisted into ugly, angry shapes.

As the crowd fanned out around the hut, another face came into view, and Asher’s heart sank in his chest. It was Maggie Tailor, Finn’s mother. She stood, simply watching from the rear, but her presence was a betrayal in itself. Good women were a rarity in Southwind, and Asher had always envied Finn for his mother’s warmth. He glanced at his friend, who shared Maggie’s red hair and long, pale features.

“I’d kill them all,” Finn said. He’d spotted her.

Some of the agitators, Asher noticed, were strangers. One such man had prominent, bright green eyes. He stepped forward and pitched a stone through the hut’s window.

“Burn it!” he cried. “If the Queen won’t help us, we’ll help ourselves!”

The mob writhed.

“Burn him out!”

The Miller’s wife grabbed her husband’s torch and rushed forward. Kicking open the door, she tossed the fiery brand inside. The crowd roared. As more torches were flung onto the roof, a southern wind carried the smells to Asher: the rich smoke of old wood burning and acrid fumes from whatever herbs and elements a Healer kept on hand.

“We’re leaving,” Galen said.

Asher rose and gave one final look to the east end of town where his father’s cottage stood. Finn spit good riddance into the grass. Following the Healer, they turned up the wooded path and slipped away from their home and the wicked cries of vengeance that echoed through the night.

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