Marion Norindale Books

The plants liked her the most, she knew.

And she wasn’t really angry at them. As she knelt, her knees sinking into the dirt, she reached for the ground; the browned vines wreathing across the ground, preparing to fall dormant for the winter. Even when they weren’t growing, they needed nourishment—one last send-off before Abigail could expect to coax them back into bloom in the spring.

She let out a sigh, drawing her fingers up from the withered leaves. Then she pushed up off the ground and brushed the grime from her skirt.

As grateful as she was to have a gift that could keep the farm going, she couldn’t help but wonder…why did it have to be her?

Her gaze fell onto the dusty blue rim of the sky glowing beyond the hills of the valley. The pink tinge of the sunrise gave way to the bright golden crown of the dawning of the day.

When there was so much world out there to see…how had Abigail become so irreversibly tied to her homeland?

She shifted to walk back inside. Her gaze fell onto the trees and the fence surrounding the property.

Everyone in the village of Annick knew their neighbors from birth. Abigail knew within a heartbeat that she’d never seen the man leaning upon the fence before.

He was tall, lanky, with dark waves of hair that shook loose around his face. He wore stiff leather plating, terribly impractical for farm life. The way he lounged against the fence implied a comfort within the armor—he wasn’t just wearing it for show.

The man spotted Abigail watching. He smiled, cocking his finger in an approximation of a wave.

The girl frowned. Emissaries from the palace would’ve worn the state colors…and traveling merchants wouldn’t have seen the need for armor. “Who are you?”

The stranger cocked a brow. “A man with a proposition, miss.”

“Pardon me…” Abigail planted her hands on her hips. “But I’m going to need a little more information.”

The man laughed. He must not have felt any urgency, if he thought it appropriate to act so cavalierly approaching someone he didn’t even know. “A proposition I believe you’ll be interested in, miss.”

Abigail pursed her lips. “Can you give me an answer that actually involves, I don’t know…an answer?”

The man held up his hands. “My apologies. I didn’t want to come off too bluntly, since we don’t exactly know each other yet.”

““All right then.” Abigail rapped her fingers against her hips; then, muttering off a silent prayer to the Divine, she crossed over to the fence. “What kind of proposition do you have for me—whoever you are?”

The man let loose another laugh. It was a rather warm sound; one Abigail would’ve found pleasant around the fire at the tavern. “You can call me Grady. And my proposition is as follows—I’m on a mission to retrieve some valuable goods. But I can’t do it all by myself.” He lifted a dark brow. “I’ve heard there’s someone in these parts with a bit of a gift?”

Abigail felt her face reddening before she could help it. She lifted her chin. “And what would you need with someone with such a gift?”

Grady leaned both his arms into the fence now. His eyes glittered in the early morning light. His irises were a curious shade of storm gray. “You see, I’m probably going to encounter some obstacles on my journey, and they would be considerably easier to navigate if I had a smidgeon of magic on my side.”

Abigail nodded slowly. “Is there a significant risk of death you wish to avoid yourself?”

Grady reached up to slap a hand upon his heart. “I would never put anyone—most especially a kind and unassuming young lady such as yourself—in danger without attempting to risk it myself first.”

Abigail folded her arms. She was unable to help the smirk that twisted upon her lips. “And I suppose I’ll just have to take your word for it, then?”

“I’m afraid so, miss.” Grady lay his arm back upon the fence, where he clasped his hands together. “Oh—and there would of course be a cut in all this for you. I would never ask anyone to risk themselves for me without the promise of compensation.”

Another platitude Abigail would have to weigh against an honesty she couldn’t judge.

She bit her lip, casting her gaze up and down the stranger. His armor scattered with nicks and scrapes; he was no stranger to a fight. A slender pack strapped to his back, the kind travelers used to stuff a bedroll and a few edible provisions. But he didn’t appear to have a cart or a horse with him (unless he’d already sheltered the latter at the inn in town).

He also bore no obvious means of defending himself…which either meant he was incredibly naïve for a lone traveler—

Or he knew exactly where to hide his weapons.

Abigail shifted her right arm ever-so-slightly, then blinked, using the moment to flick her gaze downward towards her right hip at the same time.

Grady followed her subtle tics with the almost imperceptible flick of his eyes.

Abigail unfolded her arms, settling her hands at her hips again. Only this time, she twitched the fingers on her right hand, then angled away from Grady with the smallest step of her foot.

Grady laid a hand against his other wrist.

Abigail grabbed it, clenching the man’s fingers tighter around the object she’d suspected he’d been about to draw. The dawning light of the sun flashed against the silhouette of a dagger.

“You’re a mercenary, aren’t you?”

Grady blinked, his moment of surprise smothered quickly behind the nonchalance of a practiced mask. “You’re extremely observant,” he chuckled, sliding the dagger back into place. “But…yes. In the interest of earning your trust, I shall admit to the obvious—that I work for whichever generous souls are willing to gift me the most coin in exchange for my services.” He declined his head. “And, yes…I am also willing to do more than the law may allow to in order to complete my job.”

Abigail bit down on her lip. “This isn’t really convincing me to accept your offer, by the way.”

“Well, then, I have one more heartfelt plea.” Grady unfolded his hands, spreading them wide. “I’ve heard the king is interested in acquiring this valley.”

Abigail’s heart thudded harder for a moment before sinking down into her stomach. This, unfortunately, she didn’t need her companion’s word to verify. Rumors had swirled for years that the royals coveted the fertile land of Innian Valley. And they weren’t required to give the villagers of Annick their fair share of the compensation for taking away their homes.

“I’ve been hearing that for years,” Abigail replied, her chuckle suddenly rather forced. “How do I know he’s really going to try something now?”

Grady shrugged, a little too casually for the girl’s taste. “Well, there’s a royal emissary on his way here as we speak. I ran into him on my way to Annick. His carriage was going a bit slower than my horse, so I reckon he’ll be here in about a day or two.”

If he was telling the truth, then the villagers would only have a few months at most to move before the property was officially transferred into royal control.

Only a few months to find a new place to set up the farm, ready the soil for planting (assuming they could find a place in time suitable for their crops), and secure new buyers for their goods.

Abigail swallowed. “Then I’ll have to stay here to help my family deal with whatever happens after that, won’t I?”

Grady crunched his shoulders again. “Oor…you could help me obtain my untold riches, and then move your family wherever you’d like?”

The possibility glittered temptingly before Abigail—if this man was indeed telling the truth.

But if there was one thing mercenaries cared about more than anything else, it was money. And whatever the amount must’ve been terribly tantalizing, if Grady was desperate enough to drag in the liability of a partner in order to retrieve it.

The girl sighed. “I can’t just go running off on my family like that…”

Even if the potential for adventure gleamed just as powerfully as the lure of the riches. Because this was her chance, wasn’t it? Her opportunity to see the world outside of Annick?

Abigail shoved the yearning in her chest aside. She folded her arms into another tight cross, then stepped back. “I’m sorry…I’m not sure if this is really a good idea.”

Grady shrugged one final time before pushing off the fence. “Suit yourself. But you won’t have much of a farm left if you don’t help me.”

He quirked his fingers in a farewell, then spun to stride back up the road.

Abigail wasn’t sure what feeling surged within her in that moment—but before she could think about it, she found herself stumbling towards the fence. “Wait!”

Grady froze, flicking a raised brow over his shoulder in question.

Abigail pulled in a breath. She forced the words out before she could lose her nerve. “You can stay until the emissary gets here. Then I’ll see if you’re telling the truth—and I’ll give you my final decision.”