A Heart Made Of Ice And Fire

Chapter 1

The smell of brown sugar filled my lungs, slowly easing me out of my peaceful sleep. I slowly cracked my eyes open, and looked out of the window. Almost dawn. The stars were fading, disappearing into a mesmerising, greyish purple sky.

    I laid there letting the rising sun warm my face and laughed. If it weren't for my laziness, I might have gone to read in the light of the rising sun.

    After the sun finally rose to its highest ember, I rolled over and stretched, realizing why it smelled like brown sugar. Mother’s making brown sugar porridge… for my birthday. I was up and out of my bed a heartbeat later with a broad smile permanently attached to my face.

    My family cottage wasn't too small, nor was it too big. It had a huge living space with a lavish rug in the middle, and oversized velvet chairs rested at all four corners. A bookcase stood on the far wall, filled to the brim with books I've read time and time again. A roaring fire blazed with newborn life in the fireplace.

    I noticed my father smirking at me as I marveled at the warmth and comfort of our home; it never seems to get old.

    “Ah, there's the birthday girl!”My father exclaimed,“Always sleeping late after reading those books all night.”

    I scowled at him deeply. “I was actually practicing the fighting techniques you showed me, making more arrows. Then I started reading.”

My father chuckled as I dismissed him and went to give my mother a hug. “Good morning mother,”  I whispered, burying my face in the side of her neck, breathing in her lavender and rose blossom scent. “Good morning my little fire flower, and happy birthday,” she whispered back after kissing my forehead. “By the way, I made your favorite - strawberry tart with little berries all over it....”

I gasped and  rushed farther into the kitchen to see the delicious creation my mother made. It was a gargantuan tart covered in strawberries and blueberries; I couldn't wait to sink my teeth into it. “No, that's for tonight. Now, let's eat breakfast,” my mother said all the while going to sit with my father at the dining table. I grumbled in protest and joined them.   

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After breakfast and laughing with my parents, I went into town square. It was market day and I had errands to run before going home. As always, The market place was full of carts and vendors, along with a group of hunters looking for recruits to protect our small town from the fae. I chuckled bitterly; it was fool's hope that anyone could stand up to the fae, once our protectors and our friends, now our most dangerous enemies.

I shuddered at the thought of the harmless village not too far from mine, shredded to ribbons for fae amusement, and all of it over one measly little fae queen murdered almost half a millennia ago, by humans tired of her tyranny. I shook the thought out of my mind as I stood in front of the door to the swordsmiths shop, and twisted the copper knob.

“So , how do you like it?” The swordsmith examined his work. I picked up one of the arrows and placed it in the bow I was holding. I extended my arm staring straight at the pointed iron tip. “They’re beautiful, Mr. Hagan, thank you so much.”  slowly lowering the arrow; the weight in the bow was new. I would definitely adjust to it soon.

I ran my fingers over the arrow; it was made of rowan wood and iron - a combination truly deadly to fae.

With a sigh of satisfaction over the new compliments to his “collection”, as Mr. Hagan called it, I said, “So how much are they?”

“Ten silvers.”

“ that's it?”  surprise bloomed on my face, “ I expected it to be much more.” these arrows were worth twenty gold not silver and thirty at that. I slowly turned to look at Mr. Hagan with an eyebrow raised.