The market smelled like hot oil and wet wool, and Lowell held my hand in front of half the pack.
The bond pulled tight between us. Warm. Sure. Right.
Lowell: Stand here. Don't talk.
Then he let go of me like my skin was dirty.
Maribel came up the lane in her good green dress, smiling at him, not at me.
Lowell: I reject the bond. I take Maribel as my mate.
The words hit my chest before my brain caught up.
Tamsin: You felt it too. You told me you felt it.
Lowell: I felt like a fool. That's all.
Lowell: Look at her. Market dress, courier dirt, hands like a stable hand.
Lowell: I don't put my mark on a woman who smells of other men's letters.
Laughter rolled around the square. Someone barked a word at me, ugly and old.
A man behind me asked if I'd take coin for what Lowell wouldn't take free.
I turned to go, and Maribel's nails closed on my arm.
Maribel: Don't spoil my day, Tamsin. Smile for the crowd.
She shoved me. My shoulder hit the stall post and my lip split on my own teeth.
I tasted copper. Warm blood ran to my chin, and the crowd laughed louder.
My father stood at the grain stall with his arms crossed.
He looked at me bleeding and nodded at Lowell. Slow. Like a deal closed.
Hobart: Maribel's a better match. Always was.
Tamsin: You knew about the bond. You brought me here anyway.
Hobart: I brought you to be seen. That's all you're good for.
Emric stood at the edge of the crowd with the empty cart, thin as a fence post.
He was coughing into his sleeve and watching me like he wanted to run.
Hobart: Collectors come at harvest. They take what's worth taking.
Hobart: If you're not worth a match, your brother goes to the council for it.
Behind him, Emric coughed again. I heard the wet crack in it.
Lowell: Take her home, Hobart. She's got a mouth on her. That's all she's got.
Maribel laughed and pressed her cheek to his shoulder.
My courier satchel hung at my hip, heavy with letters that were none of their business.
I pulled my cloak over it and pressed the strap flat to my side.
My arm stung where Maribel's nails had gone in. Four red lines, rising.
I wiped my mouth and made myself stand straight.
Lowell: I never wanted you. I wanted the idea of you.
Tamsin: Then you got what you paid for. Nothing.
My father's hand clamped on my shoulder, hard enough to bruise.
Hobart: Pick up the cart and walk. You'll do as you're told tonight.
Emric: Tamsin. Your lip.
I put my hand on his thin shoulder and lied that it didn't hurt.
I told myself I didn't care what any of them thought. My lip was still bleeding.
Whatever my father planned for tonight, I would walk into it. For Emric.
I just had to learn what kind of man was waiting for me.