declare his interest in a girl who’s not submitting for his Antenuptial, he offers her a gift as a promise to marry her if she doesn’t take a husband by the time he returns from war. Such an extravagant gift must surely be a promissory.”
Boden blushed deep crimson and lowered his gaze to the floor.
“Boden?” Jora asked. “Is this... a promissory?”
“I didn’t intend it that way, but I wouldn’t object if you want to consider it so. If you’re not married by the time I return, I’ll take you as my Second Wife. I-If you wish it.”
His kindhearted offer touched her deeply, and she put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “You’re such a dear.” Now she questioned his agreement with her decision not to submit. Had she disappointed him? Surely not. He’d brought the flute with him, had arranged for it to be made well before knowing whether she was going to submit. If she submitted, there would’ve been no reason to give her a gift aside from the reason he gave—a remembrance. Besides, he hadn’t known what a promissory was any more than she had. It was merely a gift to a dear friend. That was all.
She released him and patted his chest. “You’d better go. You’re to choose a wife soon. What a scandal it would be if you were late to your Antenuptial because you spent too much time in the company of other women.”
He grinned and wagged his eyebrows. “Creating a scandal just before leaving Kaild? That sounds like good sport to me.”
She reached to slap his butt, but he skittered out of reach, laughing as he jogged away. Jora leaned out the door. “Thank you again,” she called. “I’ll treasure it always.”
He turned and bowed to her while he walked backward toward the civic hall.
“It’s a promissory,” Nuri pronounced.
As Jora returned to her seat, she shook her head, refusing to believe it.
When Jora heard someone rattling around in the smithy next door, she set down her work and picked up the flute before wandering over to greet her friend. At one time, she’d considered an apprenticeship in blacksmithing, but only because that was the path Tearna chose. The two girls were born in the same month of the same year and had been close friends all their lives. They’d done everything together. It only made sense to her young mind that they would continue to work side by side in adulthood. Now Jora was glad Nuri had recruited her into leatherworking instead. Leather yielded in her hands, and with Tearna working next door, they often talked through the open windows. In effect, they were working side by side.
Tearna was opening the window shutters when Jora knocked on the door.
“Good morning,” Jora sang.
“Morning, dove. What’re you so cheerful about this early in the morning?” Tearna’s black hair was tied back into a simple bun and secured with a wooden stick. Jora could tell by the haphazard way it was wrapped that it would come loose before the day was done, and Tearna’s hands would be too dirty to fuss with it.
“Let me braid your hair. It’ll come undone by noon.”
Tearna grinned and pulled a stool over. “I was hoping you would offer. Your braids look pretty. Can you do mine like that?”
“Sure.” Jora pulled the flute from behind her back. “Look what Boden gave me.”
“Challenge the god!” Tearna said, her wide brown eyes set on the wooden instrument. “How did he manage to get a flute?”
“The crafter is his aunt. He said he begged her and she made it for me. Isn’t it gorgeous? I cannot wait to try it out.” In fact, she would make sure to find Boden’s aunt and thank her profusely before the Antenuptials began.
“Go on then. Play something.”
“Oh, no,” Jora said, setting the flute on a small table. “This is something I have to do in private. Sit, sit.”
Tearna looked at her flatly before sitting on the stool with her back to Jora. “I don’t expect you to be good. I just want to hear you play one
Boden blushed deep crimson and lowered his gaze to the floor.
“Boden?” Jora asked. “Is this... a promissory?”
“I didn’t intend it that way, but I wouldn’t object if you want to consider it so. If you’re not married by the time I return, I’ll take you as my Second Wife. I-If you wish it.”
His kindhearted offer touched her deeply, and she put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “You’re such a dear.” Now she questioned his agreement with her decision not to submit. Had she disappointed him? Surely not. He’d brought the flute with him, had arranged for it to be made well before knowing whether she was going to submit. If she submitted, there would’ve been no reason to give her a gift aside from the reason he gave—a remembrance. Besides, he hadn’t known what a promissory was any more than she had. It was merely a gift to a dear friend. That was all.
She released him and patted his chest. “You’d better go. You’re to choose a wife soon. What a scandal it would be if you were late to your Antenuptial because you spent too much time in the company of other women.”
He grinned and wagged his eyebrows. “Creating a scandal just before leaving Kaild? That sounds like good sport to me.”
She reached to slap his butt, but he skittered out of reach, laughing as he jogged away. Jora leaned out the door. “Thank you again,” she called. “I’ll treasure it always.”
He turned and bowed to her while he walked backward toward the civic hall.
“It’s a promissory,” Nuri pronounced.
As Jora returned to her seat, she shook her head, refusing to believe it.
When Jora heard someone rattling around in the smithy next door, she set down her work and picked up the flute before wandering over to greet her friend. At one time, she’d considered an apprenticeship in blacksmithing, but only because that was the path Tearna chose. The two girls were born in the same month of the same year and had been close friends all their lives. They’d done everything together. It only made sense to her young mind that they would continue to work side by side in adulthood. Now Jora was glad Nuri had recruited her into leatherworking instead. Leather yielded in her hands, and with Tearna working next door, they often talked through the open windows. In effect, they were working side by side.
Tearna was opening the window shutters when Jora knocked on the door.
“Good morning,” Jora sang.
“Morning, dove. What’re you so cheerful about this early in the morning?” Tearna’s black hair was tied back into a simple bun and secured with a wooden stick. Jora could tell by the haphazard way it was wrapped that it would come loose before the day was done, and Tearna’s hands would be too dirty to fuss with it.
“Let me braid your hair. It’ll come undone by noon.”
Tearna grinned and pulled a stool over. “I was hoping you would offer. Your braids look pretty. Can you do mine like that?”
“Sure.” Jora pulled the flute from behind her back. “Look what Boden gave me.”
“Challenge the god!” Tearna said, her wide brown eyes set on the wooden instrument. “How did he manage to get a flute?”
“The crafter is his aunt. He said he begged her and she made it for me. Isn’t it gorgeous? I cannot wait to try it out.” In fact, she would make sure to find Boden’s aunt and thank her profusely before the Antenuptials began.
“Go on then. Play something.”
“Oh, no,” Jora said, setting the flute on a small table. “This is something I have to do in private. Sit, sit.”
Tearna looked at her flatly before sitting on the stool with her back to Jora. “I don’t expect you to be good. I just want to hear you play one
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