Emily
Emily walked along the pebble beach beside Will, the surf lapping softly as it broke against the smooth stones. Their guards trailed well behind them, far enough to create the illusion of privacy while never truly allowing it to exist. Emily was still getting used to it, but Will didn't even seem to notice.
The day was nice, and Emily enjoyed the times when they could get away from the business that always seemed to swirl around Amos. Will also talked more freely when they were alone, and she enjoyed listening.
He had a gift for stories—especially when they were about the lands beyond his borders.
"Tell me more about the Khulari," Emily asked
He smiled, then grew more thoughtful. "I don’t know much of their language, but their name for themselves means Wind-Weavers."
"Wind-Weavers?"
"Not sure why. They roam the barren lands, so maybe the place is windy," he continued. "They are always following the herds. They are dark-skinned, darker than the Rabiss, and taller on average. Hard people that only honor strength."
Emily nodded.
"The most amazing thing," Will said, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, "is what they ride."
She glanced at him sideways. "Oh?"
"Large bird-like creatures. They call them khulan."
Emily stopped walking.
She stared at him. "Are you teasing me?"
Will halted as well, turning fully toward her. "No. I swear it. The first time I saw one, I thought I’d gone mad."
She crossed her arms. "You expect me to believe they ride birds."
"I know how it sounds." He rubbed the back of his neck. "They’re not like normal birds. Imagine a kayver, but taller. Much taller. Very lean. They don’t have many feathers, but the ones they do have are long. Almost like spines."
"Spines," Emily repeated flatly.
"And their wings," Will pressed on, undeterred, "are more like arms. Long arms. With claws on the ends."
"So," Emily said slowly, "they ride giant kayvers."
Will rubbed his forehead. "I am not doing a good job. You really have to see them. They are taller than a man," Will said firmly. "Their legs are massive. I once saw a khulan sprint across a field, Emily. It was one of the fastest things I’ve ever seen. They don’t fly, but they don’t need to. Without a rider, one of them can still run down prey on its own."
She studied his face, searching for the telltale flicker of teasing. Amos could never keep a straight face if she stared at him long enough. But Will gave no indication he was teasing her.
"I can prove it," he added quickly. "We brought feathers to trade."
That did it.
Emily laughed. "Don’t tell Amos about that."
Will blinked. "Why?"
"He’d try to make wings," she said, still smiling. "And somehow, I think he’d make it work."
The moment the words left her mouth, Will's smile died.
Emily wanted to groan.
There was no faster way to make Will clam up than mentioning Amos.
It wasn’t her fault. Everything in North Cove revolved around Amos. She lived in the center of it; All his secrets, the ever-increasing amount of projects, and plans that couldn’t be spoken aloud. She was coming to realize that her life pretty much revolved around him.
She remembered his explanation of the sun and planets: how all the planets were little grains of sand compared to the sun, and how they were all held in place by the sun's gravity. She felt like that. She wondered if everyone in North Cove felt like that.
It frustrated her. Will just didn't understand. And she hated that.
The stones crunched beneath her boots as they started walking again, the guards still distant, the sea still rolling in—yet the space between her and Will suddenly felt much wider than the stretch of beach.
And it annoyed her far more than she cared to admit.
She tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. "The sea is nice today," she said awkwardly.
Will nodded. "It would be a good day for a coastal sail."
That made Emily brighten despite herself. "I miss sailing around the cove."
"Then perhaps we can go out together," Will said easily.
Emily’s expression fell.
The Cove Dancer was hidden on the far side of the cove, tucked away where their guests would never stumble across her. Amos had told her that once the cove grew busier, there would be no hiding ships like that. When that happened, the Dancer and all the other vessels with Bermuda sails would be revealed to the world. But not yet. Not until the schooner was finished.
"What is it?" Will asked, a note of concern creeping into his voice.
Emily shook her head quickly and forced a smile. "Nothing. We can take one of the fishing boats out when we get back."
Will studied her for a moment, brow furrowing as the pieces slid into place. He wasn’t a fool.
"But those aren’t the boats you want to take out," he said quietly.
Silence stretched between them.
Then his expression darkened. "It’s a boat that Amos made for you."
The words came out sharper than he intended—almost an accusation. Emily bit her lip and said nothing.
"Ugh," Will muttered, turning away.
"What?" Emily demanded, frustration finally breaking through. "Why don’t you like Amos?"
Will hesitated, shoulders sagging. "Because… because he is perfect." He exhaled. "And because you are in love with him."
The words struck Emily like a blow. Every time she thought of how she felt about Amos it made her cry. She always buried it deep, but Will's statement gave her no way to ignore the pain. And soon a tear slipped free and traced a path down her cheek.
Will turned back, startled. "Why are you crying? You have someone like Amos."
Emily couldn’t answer. She lowered her head and stared at the sand, her vision blurring.
"He isn’t going to marry you." Will said. It was a statement, but sounded like a question.
"He doesn't love you?" Will said slowly. Then frowned. "No… that’s not it."
Will's confidence in the idea that Amos loved her only made the pain in her chest grow.
Emily felt a gentle hand rest against her arm. When he spoke again, it was barely more than a whisper.
"He can’t marry you."
Only the sound of waves breaking against the shore answered him. Even the seabirds seemed to fall silent, as though the world itself understood the weight of her broken heart. She wanted to open her mouth, to tell him to stop, but she could barely breathe.
Then Will straightened, resolving to harden his voice. "If he cannot, then I will."
Emily’s head snapped up. She met eyes filled with sincerity and earnest conviction.
"You are beautiful," he said quickly, "and smart. You would make an excellent wife. Your paper shop would be a sufficient dowry, my father would approve. I will speak with him. If you wait for me, wait until I receive my inheritance, I will marry you."
His words did not comfort her as he probably thought they would.
They only drove the pain deeper—because they reminded her of a truth she did not want to face. Someday, she would have to marry someone.
Someone other than Amos.
Emily turned and ran.
Amos
I was chatting with Bolster and Benjamin, but my thoughts were on my ship on the far side of the cove. I was ready for all of this to be done. I needed a day on the water. Emily and Will were on the beach right now. I think she went to show him the new waterslide I had created after Dustin made his daring race down the canal. There were safer ways to get your thrills than racing down the side of a mountain carried by a ton of water.
I found myself more than a little jealous of Emily and Will. They had spent the last two days together exploring the surrounding lands, free of responsibility. I couldn't fault Emily, though. That girl was making paper like crazy, and she was due for a break.
I was impressed by the Will. He didn’t shy away from work when something needed doing, and when he saw an opportunity to help, he took it without being asked.
That wasn’t to say he lacked the nobles' view of commoners. To him, commoners were not equal to nobles in any meaningful way. Yet he didn’t look down on them for it, either. It was a weird balance that defied what the stereotypical view of nobles was in my mind.
As my mind was drifting away from the current discussion, a knock came at the door, and the messenger handed me a letter I wasn't quite sure how to handle.
To the Honorable Lord Amos Bicman, Lord of North Cove and its surrounding lands,
I am Felix Duran, third son of Sir Ammon Duran, and I write to you openly and in good faith.
With my father’s leave, I have gathered thirty-six souls from his lands—families, laborers, and men of good character—who are prepared to follow me should an opportunity be granted. I believe that number may grow to fifty if fair terms and a clear purpose are offered. My intent is not wandering, but settlement.
I am four-and-twenty years of age, unwed, and desirous of establishing myself by service rather than by inheritance. I have observed that your county holds wide tracts of underworked land and that you have welcomed settlers in the past. I believe I may be of use to you in this.
Should it please you to grant leave, I would seek to settle land within your authority and hold it in stewardship, owing you oath and service. To allow the settlement to take root, I humbly request a suspension of rents and taxes for a term of five years, after which I would render full and proper dues.
Further, should stone, ore, or other mineral wealth be discovered upon the land, I ask leave to work such resources in your name, retaining a fifth share of the yield in recompense for the cost and risk of their extraction, with the remainder rendered to you as lord.
Lastly, I ask assurance of your protection, that if brigands or raiders threaten the people settled there, they may call upon your authority and arms, as is proper between lord and man.
I offer in return my loyalty, my labor, and the strength of those who would follow me, bound to your banner and your law. If my service proves wanting, I would accept your judgment; if it proves valuable, I would hope to merit your continued favor.
I await your answer and stand ready to present myself at your convenience.
In service and respect, Felix Duran
I handed the letter off to Benjamin as soon as I was done with it.
"Take a look at this. I am not sure what to make of it." I said.
Benjamin pulled his reading stone from his inside pocket and placed it on the flattened parchment.
When Bolster first saw what I had done with the glass, his jaw dropped. The idea that light passing through his quartz stone was sometimes magnified was known, but he had never thought to use it for such a thing.
To me, it made sense that he wouldn't have thought of it. Literacy was not widely popular, even among some nobles. Only someone with Benjamin's condition would even really think about it. You would need a scholar who needed the help and had access to a crystal to connect the dots. That or a guy from another universe that already knew the concept.
A moment later, he handed it back to me. I saw the curious look on Bolster's face and handed it to him.
"It is a good proposal, and it shows that Fredrick has cleared things up in Vaspar," Benjamin said.
"We already knew that because Malcomp was receiving caravans again," I said.
"I am talking about the slander his brother cast against you."
"Well, at least he got that cleared up before he left for Hitub. Still can't believe he is going. He doesn't even have an heir yet."
There was a snort from William, interrupting our discussion. "This young man is certainly audacious," he said while handing back the letter.
"How so?" I asked.
"An unknown third son asking for a fifth of your land rights. It is just on the edge of being offensive."
"I agree, and I think he knows it too. He is using this letter to probe. To see if negotiations are necessary. No reasonable noble would give him more than a tenth. And that is for friends." Benjamin put in his two cents. "What will you do, my lord?"
I paused for a moment. "He is right about one thing. We have plenty of land. This shows we have been noticed by a larger group of people. I will respond and tell him I want to meet with him. Also, we will send him a book of the laws. We will see how well he knows them by the time we meet."
Benjamin nodded, "Just remember, this will set a precedent. I recommend setting the requirements high, or word will spread that you are willing to give away land."
I nodded. We continued our tour, each lost in our own thoughts for a moment
"What do you think of Kevin? Do you think he can handle things in Plimgus?"
I had meant the question for Benjamin, but it was Bolster who answered. "I think he will do fine. Not because of his competence or because he has the qualities necessary to lead a barony, but because of his loyalty. If you ask him to do something, he does it. If you find he needs advisors, he will listen to them. I think I see where you are going with this. Putting other nobles in his land, as this Felix may benefit him. Surround him with the right people."
Benjamin nodded. "I agree. As long as this Felix is the type of person we want."
“Well,” I said, “why don’t—”
The door burst open.
Emily rushed in, her eyes red and swollen. She stopped short when she saw the others and flushed.
“Sorry, I—” She backed toward the door.
“Lord Bolster, Benjamin,” I said quickly, “we’ll continue this later. Baron Bolster, perhaps you could go see how your son is doing.” I softened my tone. “I need to speak with Emily.”
They hesitated only a moment before nodding and leaving.
When the door shut, I crossed the room. If there was one thing I hated, it was seeing my friend cry.
“What happened, Em?” I asked, keeping my voice calm even as worry twisted in my chest.
She stepped forward and clung to me like a drowning person grabbing driftwood. I held her carefully, acutely aware of how this would look if anyone walked in.
When her sobs finally slowed, I tried again. “Emily. What happened? Did Will do something?”
She shuddered. For a heartbeat, I was ready to go find the boy and rip his head off.
She pulled back, wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and looked up at me. “He asked me to marry him.”
I took a step back, stunned. I’d always known Emily would marry someday, maybe even leave North Cove, but not now and not like this. And Will was far too young.
I was really confused at this sudden declaration.
"Does his father know what he was planning?"
“I-I don’t think so, I don't think he was planning anything, ” she said. “He thought he was being nice. He thought since you weren’t going to marry me, he would.”
The pieces fell into place. Will was smitten. He’d said something foolish, as we all do at his age. I was just relieved I didn’t have to kill him.
Once my temper cooled, I thought it through. It wasn’t a terrible match, aside from the age. He was only fifteen or sixteen. I trusted Will’s character, and—
“Amos.”
I realized I hadn’t answered her. I fumbled to find something to say. “Isn’t he a little young?”
“He said if I waited, he would marry me.”
I sighed. I did not need to be a counselor today.
“And you don’t want to marry him?”
She stared at me as if I were an idiot.
“I want to marry you,” she said, stepping closer, close enough that I could feel how badly she wanted an answer I couldn’t give.
The words caught in my throat. “I can’t, Emily. You know I can’t.”
She bristled. “Yes, you can.”
That statement shocked me. We had been over this.
“You know I have to marry Erica. If I defy the king, I die or lose everything. And then what happens to the people here? To you?”
“Make me your second wife.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t,” she snapped, “or won’t?”
This wasn’t the Emily I knew. Sometimes, with how mature she acts, I forget that she is still a teenager with all the hormonal imbalances that come along with it, something more volatile than nitroglycerin. This was a hurt, angry girl. But she deserved honesty.
“Won’t,” I said quietly. “I believe a man should have one wife and be faithful to her. I won’t trap you between another woman and me.”
“I don’t care,” she said, pleading in her voice. It twisted like a knife.
“But I do,” I replied. “You might not care now, but you may later. That isn't what I want for you. Emily, we have been over this. I know in this world you are old enough to marry. But where I am from, it was practically a crime for someone as old as I am to be in a relationship with someone as young as you. I am sorry for hurting you."
She punched me in the stomach.
It took a moment to register.
"You can't tell me that you love me and then say that I am not good enough to marry you,” she said.
Definitely in the nitroglycerine territory because that is not what I said at all. "You're my best friend, Emily, and I do love you. Just…" I couldn't find the right words.
“Just not enough to be worth marrying,” she finished, her voice breaking.
She turned and stormed out.
I didn’t stop her.
She was right. I didn’t love her enough to throw caution to the wind, or to take a second wife simply because this world allowed it. If we went by my Earth age, she was seven years younger than me.
I turned and slammed my fist into the wooden frame of the house. The crack of pain in my hand hurt, but it was nothing compared to the dull, heavy ache settling in my chest.
Emily had been there for me since the day I arrived in this world. She had steadied me when everything was unfamiliar, when nothing felt certain. And now I had hurt her— again.
*****
I was sitting at my writing desk staring at a blank page of my journal. I needed to write down my thoughts on everything that I had done today, but my mind was blank. I needed to center myself, but everything seemed so chaotic.
John took everything better and yet so much worse than I thought he would. The better was how readily he accepted everything and was eager to help. The worst was the probability he placed on us being able to get away with this without having our lives threatened. Most of the stuff we had discussed, he had a solution for, even ways to profit from it. But the woven fabric on our latest upgrade to the loom and the Jacquard machine made our cloth not just better, but impossibly so.
The one thing that he was insistent about was that I do everything in my power not to screw up this marriage to Erica. My life and my county may very well depend on my connection to Herron and the crown. The thought made me sick, but I had been here long enough to know he was right. And that made me circle back to Emily.
A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. I stood up, stretched, and crossed the room. Opening the door, I saw someone I had expected to see sooner in the day, Marsh.
"May I come in, Lord Amos?" She said gently.
I stepped aside and let her in, shutting the door behind her.
"Have a seat, Marshandra," I said.
"I could not sit in your chair, my lord."
"A man does not sit while a woman stands, no matter the difference in station. At least not when there are no other nobles around to reprimand them." I said with a smile.
She snorted as she took a seat. "There really was no hope for her," she muttered.
"Excuse me," I said, confused.
"Emily. It wouldn't have been possible for her not to fall in love with you. Not the way you treat people. The way you treat her."
Seems like Marsh wanted to just jump right into this.
“I know. I should have kept my distance. I should have made a boundary. I should have-“
Marshandra laughed, stopping me from listing all the things I should have done. “I didn’t realize how conceited you were, Lord Amos.”
“Conceited?”
“Do you think you are the only one that will break her heart or that would have?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Maybe in the world you came from, hearts didn’t get broken?”
“Of course they did. But this is my friend, and I am the one doing the breaking.” I said, frustrated. “Are you saying I shouldn’t care or just ignore it?”
“I am saying no matter what you do, it will not change the fact that she is hurt and she needs time to heal.”
“So should I avoid her? Give her space?” I asked.
She arched her eyebrow. “My lord, how in the world would you avoid your Papermaker? No, she just needs to accept the truth that she cannot have you. Acceptance that we do not get everything we desire is an important lesson to learn. Every person her age goes through it.”
I blew out a slow breath. “I guess you are right. Sometimes we have to accept loss in order to heal. I certainly did.”
“Amos,” she said gently, ignoring my title. “I can’t think of anyone I would want her to learn this lesson from, other than you.”