Chapter One
Kiera reeked of yeast. It was in her hair, in her skin, and on her clothes. Everywhere she went, the scent accompanied her. It went with the sticky residue of flour on her hands. For as long as she could remember, it had been as much a part of her as her sky-blue eyes and chestnut brown hair. Its consistency in her life gave her a sense of comfort in this new land that she and her father had come to six months ago. While the land, people, and customs were strange to her, the yeast would always be there, anchoring her to her history and her family.
The yeast filled her nose in the darkness of the early morning as she kneaded and beat the dough for that day’s bread into submission. She had spent the night welcoming autumn by dancing at the Equinox celebration. Her eyes were heavy and her feet ached as she stood at the counter. Kiera was used to being up before the sun, preparing bread to rise, ensuring it was fresh when she brought it to market to sell. She had only just finished when she heard a knock on the door and, through its small window, saw a figure in the dim lamplight outside. As she opened the door cautiously, Kiera noted a sharp urgency in his eyes. She blocked the way in.
“You are Kiera, the baker’s daughter, come to our village from Sarehavah?” he asked, frantically.
“I am, yes.” Kiera's heart sank as she anticipated what the stranger had come for.
“I am Kel.” He lowered his voice, even though no one was around to hear him. “They say you are a healer—”
“I cannot help you. I am human.”
“Please,” the man begged. “My neighbor told me what you did for him. He said he fell so
violently from his horse his leg was shattered, and you healed him.”
Kiera’s heart beat frantically in her chest as she thought of her encounter with that man on the way back from the market two weeks ago. She should have run for help, but the pull inside her to help him was irresistible, and his cries of pain were unbearable to hear. She should have known better. Word traveled fast in small villages. “Sir, I have some small abilities. I can’t always control them. Please, I don’t want to give you false hope; you should go to a proper healer.”
She tried to shut the door, but the man wedged his foot in the frame. “I have three children,” he pleaded. “Four, now. My wife gave birth late in the night. The midwife said she has lost too much blood. We live on a small farm, only a short ride from here. We will never reach the healer in time.”
Kiera felt it again. The dreaded pull in her heart to help, to save. The irresistible urge to use the force that seemed ever-present under her skin.
As if sensing that her resolve was beginning to crack, the farmer continued, “I will give you everything I have to save her.”
Kiera sighed and listened for any movement upstairs. It was silent as the farmer stared at her, waiting for her decision. She would sneak out quietly and break the news to her father once the deed was done. “The only thing I want from you is your silence.”
“I promise I won’t tell a soul what you can do,” the farmer insisted.
“Please, wait here while I fetch my cloak.” Kiera moved quietly to the upstairs rooms to collect her cloak and traveling boots. She heard her father’s faint snores from his room. She found a scrap of parchment and scrawled a note to him before returning to the farmer and joining him on the back of his horse. He took off, riding as fast and as hard as he could down the road.
When they arrived at Kel’s farmhouse, Kiera dismounted and ran inside. She followed the cries of a newborn child to a back room, where the lady of the home was in bed, lying back, her head propped up by pillows. Her face pale and gaunt, she lay amid blood-stained sheets. In the corner, a midwife bathed what appeared to be a healthy babe.
“What happened?” Kiera demanded of the midwife.
“I do not know. The baby came healthy, the afterbirth followed shortly after, but there’s so much blood, and it won’t stop. There’s nothing I can do.”
The woman, still half-awake, sobbed. “Please, give me my child. Let me hold her before —”
“Shh.” Kiera knelt before the woman and took her hands in her own. “Pray to The Fates with me.” Kiera did not know what made The Fates answer her prayers, but when she asked them to fix what was broken or dying, sometimes they listened. She closed her eyes and begged them to heal this woman, over and over again.
She always felt it slowly. The warmth began in her heart. Then it spread gradually outward until it reached her hands. After they warmed, Kiera felt a tingle, which grew stronger, until some kind of current began to flow from her hands into the woman.
Kiera opened her eyes as she disentangled their hands and laid her own on the mother’s belly, above the womb. She kept them there until color returned to the woman’s face and her breath deepened.
The sun was rising as Kiera left the home with the farmer. He aided her in mounting the horse before getting on in front and taking up the reins. “Your wife still needs a proper healer,” Kiera said. “You should fetch one, to ensure she is fully healed. You can be on your way to get her after you take me home, but do not give her any information about me.”
“I promise,” the farmer reiterated. The gratitude in his voice inclined Kiera to believe him.
Despite worrying she would be discovered, Kiera felt a rush after healing. There was a mix of emotions she could never quite identify and that no one in her life would ever be able to help her understand. Her feet felt lighter, and her smile grew wider. She could scale mountains with her energy. She practically skipped into her home—until she saw the look on her father’s face as he waited for her at the table.
“Kiera!” he reprimanded. “What were you thinking!”
“I know, Papa. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you alone here so long,” Kiera responded, in her most appeasing voice.
Her father’s hair was thin and gray, his hands shaky. He had to steady himself as he rose from his chair and walked with a slight bend in his back. Kiera suspected he’d been on his feet too long. The bread she was working on earlier had been baked and packed in the cart outside. He brought the back of his wrinkled hand to his forehead and wiped his brow.
The sight instantly crushed Kiera’s high spirits. “I worried you.”
“Kiera,” he pleaded, sinking back into his chair. “Why would you do this? It will only invite trouble.”
“What could I say, Papa?” Kiera knelt before him, begging him to understand. “The man’s wife was dying. How could I turn him away?”
“It is only a matter of time before the fae find out, Kira. We do not know these people. We cannot trust them. The fae will learn my daughter defies their laws and heals people without training, without a license from their government. Kiera, you know they will come for you.”
“Papa, you worry too much. The farmer swore he would keep my secret.” Kiera knew, however, that her father was right. To heal legally, or to practice magic at all, for that matter, took years of training and guidance. Only faeries were allowed that training. They ruled Cresea and the other three kingdoms on this continent, thanks to their long lives and magical abilities. The law that humans could not practice magic was universal, transcending the borders of the four countries. Faeries received their magic by birthright. Humans could obtain it only by pledging themselves to dark forces, and to do so was forbidden.
“I have tried to protect you, Kiera,” her father sighed, sinking deeper into his chair. “Ever since you were a child, I have tried to help you, but you defy me. One day they will catch you. They will take you from me, and only The Fates know what they will do to you.”
“Perhaps they will understand, Papa. Perhaps—”
“Not this again!” Kiera’s father slammed his hand on the table. “This ridiculous fantasy. Look around you. We are simple people with simple lives. There is no fae ancestry we can prove, nothing that will incline the fae to think you are special. All they will see is a human girl, a baker’s daughter, doing magic illegally. They will take you away.”
Kiera took her father’s hands in hers and studied the many wrinkles and lines in them. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. “I will be more careful, Papa, I promise.”
“Kiera.” Her father removed his hand from hers and grasped her chin to raise her face to his. “We need to leave. This village is too close to the palace.”
Kiera’s heart sank. This village had finally started to feel like home. “You’re being too cautious. The villagers here suspect the fae just as much as we do. They won’t turn me in.”
“We can’t risk it, Kiera.”
“I need to take the bread to the market.” Kiera stood and dusted herself off.
“Kiera,” her father scolded, “this conversation is not over.”
“I know, Father,” Kiera replied in a voice that dripped like honey. “I’ll go straight to town and come right back, and we will talk about it more later.” She hurried out the door before he had a chance to stop her.
