Miss Avruellen. I wasn't spying or anything. I ran away and thought to ask Bronny for help, but when I got to your cottage you were leaving. I didn't know what was going on, and I didn't want you to take me back home, so I thought I'd follow you." Avruellen was staring at the young runaway, one brow raised. Corrille worried at Avruellen’s lack of sympathy. "I don't want to go home, and you can't make me. If I can't come with you, I'll go my own way."
Avruellen shook her head. "I won't have you out there by yourself. You don't know the first thing about travelling. Do you have any money? No? I didn't think so. How do you expect to feed yourself, and what about protection? Not everyone in this world is going to be nice to you , and some will do their best to make trouble."
"I'm sorry."
"Not as sorry as you'll be if you don't do what I say. There are rules that must be followed if you come with us; I don’t tolerate disobedience. I’m not going to tell you anything about what we're doing, and if Bronwyn does, she will be severely punished. You must not talk of anything you see with anyone but us. Do you understand?" Both girls nodded vigorously, happy to be together again.
Bronwyn rushed over to hug her aunt, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. You won't regret it. I promise." Avruellen had heard it all before and had a feeling she would.
Avruellen fussed over preparing dinner, stopping every now and then to give the girls a frown whilst they became reacquainted.
"Your aunt is so serious and a bit scary."
"She's OK. She just worries a lot, and I guess she sees you as extra responsibility."
"But I'm eighteen. It's not like I'm a baby. I can look after myself."
Bronwyn admitted her friend probably could look after herself, to some degree. She wasn't as good a fighter as Bronwyn, but she was sufficient and had the presence of mind to bring her sword when she ran away; Bronwyn felt for her own weapon, a dagger, which was strapped securely to her ankle.
"Did you bring a bedroll, or a heavier coat?" Bronwyn’s question prompted Corrille to rummage through her pack.
"I've got a heavier coat but I didn’t think about anything else. I didn’t have time."
"We'll get you one when we reach the city."
"By the city, do you mean Bayerlon?" Corrille's eyes brightened. Like Bronwyn, she had never been far from their village—and certainly never to the capital.
"Yep. Isn’t it exciting? What do you think it'll be like?"
"I suppose there'll be lots of people, especially beautiful women in lovely dresses; I‘ve heard some women have as many as ten!"
"And handsome men, of course." Both girls giggled. Avruellen made no secret that she was listening and gave them a disapproving look.
Bronwyn changed the subject. "So why did you run away? What happened?"
Corrille fidgeted and suddenly couldn't look her friend in the eye. "I've never told anyone this. You have to promise not to tell." Bronwyn nodded, but Corrille wasn’t convinced. “Promise?”
“Yes, yes, I promise.”
Corrille took a deep breath and spoke quickly before her nerve left her. "Father beats me. He gets drunk almost every night, and he’s even burnt me with the fire iron. Don't get me wrong, he's usually a wonderful father, but once he drinks ... his eyes seem to change. It's like it's not him. He just goes crazy. Mother leaves when he gets like that, but he doesn't let me leave, so I try and stay quiet but he always finds an excuse. I just couldn't take it anymore." Corrille turned her back to her friend so she wouldn’t see the tears as they spilled over her lower lids. Bronwyn knew Corrille’s father, and he seemed nice enough. It was difficult to imagine he would do such a thing.
“How come you’ve never told me about this before? I mean, why would he do it? He seems like he really loves you.”
"Lift up my top."
Bronwyn hesitantly obeyed. An audible breath rushed through her mouth. "Oh gods, these bruises are awful. Did he really
Avruellen shook her head. "I won't have you out there by yourself. You don't know the first thing about travelling. Do you have any money? No? I didn't think so. How do you expect to feed yourself, and what about protection? Not everyone in this world is going to be nice to you , and some will do their best to make trouble."
"I'm sorry."
"Not as sorry as you'll be if you don't do what I say. There are rules that must be followed if you come with us; I don’t tolerate disobedience. I’m not going to tell you anything about what we're doing, and if Bronwyn does, she will be severely punished. You must not talk of anything you see with anyone but us. Do you understand?" Both girls nodded vigorously, happy to be together again.
Bronwyn rushed over to hug her aunt, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. You won't regret it. I promise." Avruellen had heard it all before and had a feeling she would.
Avruellen fussed over preparing dinner, stopping every now and then to give the girls a frown whilst they became reacquainted.
"Your aunt is so serious and a bit scary."
"She's OK. She just worries a lot, and I guess she sees you as extra responsibility."
"But I'm eighteen. It's not like I'm a baby. I can look after myself."
Bronwyn admitted her friend probably could look after herself, to some degree. She wasn't as good a fighter as Bronwyn, but she was sufficient and had the presence of mind to bring her sword when she ran away; Bronwyn felt for her own weapon, a dagger, which was strapped securely to her ankle.
"Did you bring a bedroll, or a heavier coat?" Bronwyn’s question prompted Corrille to rummage through her pack.
"I've got a heavier coat but I didn’t think about anything else. I didn’t have time."
"We'll get you one when we reach the city."
"By the city, do you mean Bayerlon?" Corrille's eyes brightened. Like Bronwyn, she had never been far from their village—and certainly never to the capital.
"Yep. Isn’t it exciting? What do you think it'll be like?"
"I suppose there'll be lots of people, especially beautiful women in lovely dresses; I‘ve heard some women have as many as ten!"
"And handsome men, of course." Both girls giggled. Avruellen made no secret that she was listening and gave them a disapproving look.
Bronwyn changed the subject. "So why did you run away? What happened?"
Corrille fidgeted and suddenly couldn't look her friend in the eye. "I've never told anyone this. You have to promise not to tell." Bronwyn nodded, but Corrille wasn’t convinced. “Promise?”
“Yes, yes, I promise.”
Corrille took a deep breath and spoke quickly before her nerve left her. "Father beats me. He gets drunk almost every night, and he’s even burnt me with the fire iron. Don't get me wrong, he's usually a wonderful father, but once he drinks ... his eyes seem to change. It's like it's not him. He just goes crazy. Mother leaves when he gets like that, but he doesn't let me leave, so I try and stay quiet but he always finds an excuse. I just couldn't take it anymore." Corrille turned her back to her friend so she wouldn’t see the tears as they spilled over her lower lids. Bronwyn knew Corrille’s father, and he seemed nice enough. It was difficult to imagine he would do such a thing.
“How come you’ve never told me about this before? I mean, why would he do it? He seems like he really loves you.”
"Lift up my top."
Bronwyn hesitantly obeyed. An audible breath rushed through her mouth. "Oh gods, these bruises are awful. Did he really
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