To Kill a Wizard: Rose's Story (The Protectors of Tarak Book 1) Read Free Page B

everything went right, this might be my last chance to speak to the kindly priest. “Thank you.”
    He tilted his head, his brows drawing together. “For what?”
    I nibbled at my bottom lip, forming the words in my mind. “For teaching me to read and write. For not caring that I look like our enemies.”
    A smile touched his lips and brought a sparkle to his eyes. “No need to thank me. You were a wonderful and deserving student.”
    I doubted that, but I held my uncertainties inside. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to be an Oracle, but you’re a great priest.”
    He patted my shoulder. “Take comfort. The goddesses always have a plan.”
    My hope dwindled further. Did he know something I didn’t?
    We said our goodbyes, before I headed outside. A slight gloom hung over me, but even still, I rushed along the road. If I took much longer I’d be late for the ceremony, and this was one thing I couldn’t be late for, even without the goddess’s blessing.

Chapter Two
     
    My father had been silent all day, but not his usual silence. Instead, it was the intense feeling of words left unsaid clouding the air.
    Stepping down our old wooden stairs and into our small kitchen, I found my father’s head bowed over the table. In his hands, some new creation was being whittled with care. And resting on the table in front of him, as always, his thick mug of ale sat in its usual place of honor.
    I smiled in spite of my nervousness.
    “Oh, Rose. You look beautiful!” Sirena stood by the fire, her delicate hands clutching our rocking chair as she gazed at me. She wore a dress of a vibrant yellow, and her golden hair was braided intricately, encircling her head like a crown.
    “So do you,” I said, meaning it.
    Her smiled widened, but her question struck me like a blow to the chest, “Is that a new dress?”
    My heart pounded as my father glanced up.
    His eyes widened, and in a flash, he was standing. Behind him, the chair struck the dirt floor.
    I’d expected him to be angry with me for going through my mother’s things, even though they’d been nothing more than trinkets and clothes locked away in dust-covered chests. But what I hadn’t expected was his fear. How could wearing her dress frighten him so?
    My heart pounded in my chest. Was I like a ghost to him? An image of the woman he loved who abandoned him.
    Not knowing what else to do, I stepped further into the room and into the light cast from the crackling fire in the hearth.
    Sirena’s gaze darted from me to him, and still no one spoke. Tension sung through the room like unseen lightning.
    At last, my father averted his gaze, picked up his chair, and sat down. His whittling lay forgotten upon the table.
    Disappointment left a hollow ache in my chest. He was my father. Shouldn’t he at least care that this might be our last evening together?
    Of course not!
    Anger flared inside of me. This was the same man who’d been too swallowed by his own emotions all these years to remember that even though he’d lost his wife, I’d lost my mother. To him, I was nothing more than a burden. Nothing more than a reminder of the woman who’d left him. I’d been naïve to think there was some small part of him that actually cared for me.
    Feeling brave, I chose my words with care. “It would’ve been disrespectful to attend The Choosing in my tattered, stained gowns, so I found one of mother’s dresses in an old chest.”
    Sirena gasped and stuttered. “O-Oh.”
    When my father remained silent, I ground my teeth, determined to make him talk. “I thought I might as well wear it, since this might be my last day in the village.”
    The muscles in my father’s strong chin clenched, and a familiar nervous anticipation rose as the firelight danced across the intricate pale scars covering his face and neck. Still, he said nothing.
    Bitter disappointment bloomed, and I grabbed my dark green cloak from near the door and put it on. “We best hurry, or we’ll be late.”
    “A