CHAPTER 1 CALIDA

  RESPONSIBILITY

  Cressida is overbearing

  Calida staggered through the door. The eighteen-year-old had found a large bag of potatoes for only one silver galatos. Her entire way home, she expected someone to realize the prize she had gotten away with in the market.

  “What took you so long?”

  Calida slumped the bag onto the ground with a grunt. She had bought enough to feed an army. She shouldn’t need to go to the market for another week with all of this.

  As she silently pulled the bag along the ground, unable to speak and drag the heavy weight, her mother tapped her foot impatiently. Then, when she took too long to stop and answer, the clanging of pans and metal scraping on metal pounded against her eardrums.

  “Answer me, you impudent child!”

  After more dragging, she was beside the kitchen’s washing basin and Calida propped up the bag, opening it for easy access. Last time she didn’t, her mother grew angry that it wasn’t already open and insisted Calida stop what she had been doing to open it.

  Cressida muttered complaints as she scrubbed Calida’s father’s cup on the table. It was the only dish she insisted on cleaning, but if her daughter didn’t help, she became more upset.

  Calida trudged back to the door and picked up the purse holding the vegetables she bought, vegetables she needed to dry or else the bugs would come for them. She laid them on the table beside the washing basin and turned around to get the salt, but a sack of laundry came sailing at her unexpectedly. She stumbled as she took the brunt of the impact.

  “Be more on top of the chores this time.”

  Calida gritted her teeth. She would be more on top of it if it wasn’t all left to her.

  It was useless to shout at her mother. Cressida didn’t understand Calida’s perspective. It was better to be silent than to defend herself.

  “Of course, why would you speak to your mother? Should I even expect love from you?” Even with all her criticism, she still loved her mother. Calida’s chest tightened and weighed her down. If someone could suffocate from wrongdoings and criticisms, then it was a miracle she was still alive.

  “I will take care of the laundry after I salt the vegetables.”

  “No. Do the laundry now. I will do the salting later. Last time you did it, we had a swarm outside our door.”

  Calida barely held back an eye twitch. Last time she salted like all the other times, she had salted the vegetables well. Cressida had been shouting anxiously the entire time she salted about the swarm growing outside their house eating the food. The pests had been attracted by a dead rabbit nearby. Calida saw it when she had gone out for the dried meat she had hung up. The bugs were completely unrelated. Not that it stopped her mother from complaining.

  “Yes, mother.” She sighed.

  Calida shouldered the laundry sack and walked to her room to get her laundry beating stick.

  “Where are you going?!”

  From her bedroom, she controlled her breathing. If she lashed out at her mother, they would only fight, and it would resolve nothing. Calida would end up apologizing later for being a young, foolish girl. She snatched the stick and urn of wood ash from beside her bed and marched back into the living area.

  “I just needed to fetch my laundry stick, Mother.”

  Cressida stood up from the table and shouted. “Is that attitude I hear, Calida?”

  Calida bit her lip to keep from yelling back. Her mother heard attitude and verbal attacks in her words no matter what she said in protest.

  “No, Mother. I was only making a statement.” Because you asked. Calida left the last part out; it would only get her mother upset.

  “You have to answer me properly. You will not accomplish anything, anywhere, if you give me such an attitude.”

  Calida stared at the ground as the hurt swirled into numbness. Her heart stabbed her chest, and the pins and needle prickled her fingers until it covered her body and mind. Without a word, she trudged out the door with the bag of laundry and her stick.

  The door swung closed behind her, and with it, the breath she held. In the outside air, Calida inhaled deeply. Her mind drifted to the memory of what she saw in the market that morning. Someone new had come with a skit to bring buyers to his stall. He was an object magic caster. The man had called the attention of those around them and then showed something like a “magic” show. He had a necklace in his hand and explained to the crowd what he was about to do. The man wore a mysterious cloak that covered his face. He held up the necklace and then it vanished in his hands, only for it to suddenly appear on a wealthy lady wearing a rich blue dress in the front of the crowd.

  Like the rest of the crowd, Calida was absorbed by the man’s display. He invited the woman to the front to play his assistant, then he performed one more trick. He told the woman she could keep the necklace if she were able to use the ring he held in his other hand to turn invisible. He plopped the ring in her hand. She clutched it tight and closed her eyes as she wished herself invisible.

  The crowd gasped out when, before their eyes, the woman disappeared.

  Calida had been enthralled by it, but thanks to that nagging little impression in her mind, she was thrown off by a wandering worry if it was rigged from the start, and if an innocent woman had just been taken. Objects that could make you invisible were rare because of how long it took to make them. The lady had been wearing the enchanted necklace that no doubt could transport anything. Calida could only wonder if she had been taken by the seller for nefarious reasons. She had stayed silent, though. What could she do? What if she was wrong? She didn’t know what she would do if she were to blame for yet another incident and nothing was wrong. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head.

  It’s your fault…It was only a little skit for the audience. Why must you make more out of than there was? What a paranoid, petulant child.

  Calida had diligently kept her mouth shut, just like her mother had said. A loudmouth led to folly. The lovely event twisted to something upsetting in her mind.

  As she walked down the path carrying the soiled laundry her mother had left outside the home, she was no longer excited about being outside. In her peripheral, her friend tied up her horse and approached.

  Jetta Arundel walked beside her, and Calida stayed silent, not looking for conversation as she hoped to finish the laundry without incident.

  “When will you come live with me at the Crescent League base?”

  “I am needed here.”

  Her friend grabbed her arm and stopped them. “You are only needed because your mother refuses to lift a finger.”

  Calida shrugged off Jetta’s arm, and the two set off into the forest behind the house. The leaves were almost the same color as Calida’s red hair. The same red bubbled inside her from bottling up her emotions for so long. They strolled down the path.

  Her skin crawled with the need to do something, say something, just to fill the silence. But she did not want to say something while she was in such a vulnerable state. Why would she need to share anything, anyway?

  Stop that yelling this instant! Why must you yell at me when I have not done such things to you? How peevish.

  Calida flinched at the memory of her mother’s sharp words. The dear daughter of a Faction Knight argumentative. Nonsense. No explanation, just the statement. So, when her friend, the lackey of the esteemed Crescent League faction, made a statement about her mother, something triggered inside her. The hurt under the numbness blossomed like a stab wound.

  “She is getting older. I am her dutiful daughter, so it falls onto me.”

  Calida was someone who stood above commoners and gained preferential treatment. Calida was fortunate to have what she did. Unlike Jetta, who grew up on the streets.

  “Friends are there long enough to use and then they leave. You must love your family forever, child.”

  “Calida, don’t tell me you believe that.”

  She didn’t tell her. Her mother was getting older and couldn’t do the same things other older woman could do without complaint. She took care of her mother and the house. Cressida had no interest in the emotional health of her daughter, including the jealousy over the looks of Calida’s dearest friend.

  Jetta’s black hair was always kept in a knot on her head. The strands fell out constantly, but she would hurriedly fix them to keep her esteemed faction standards. Sometimes, Calida wished she could have Jetta’s hair. Any hair but her own. The fiery locks upon her head were akin to an animal’s mane. Wild, tangled, and large in volume. Frequently, she wished to have Jetta’s appearance entirely. Her pale skin and eyes that were almond in shape and colour. And on her head, Jetta wore the Crescent League headpiece. The accessory represented the remarkable guild, and meant they held their members to a higher standard.

  The trees thinned out, and the burble of water lazily moving down the river greeted her ears.

  She reached the edge of the nearby stream and made a pool of water in the stream’s mud. Scrubbing the laundry against the stones, she removed the filth before she churned the clothing with her laundry stick.

  “Let me help you.” Jetta tried to pull some of the laundry away.

  “No!” It was her responsibility. Hers alone.

  Jetta huffed before she crouched by the closest tree, staring intensely at Calida.

  Tears pricked Calida’s eyes. Her vision clouded as she tried furiously to hide her emotional fault. She churned even harder. Her mouth tightened as she fought off the sadness welling up. After so long feeling this sense of black and white, her chest hurt in protest.

  It had been so long since her mother smiled her way or lovingly said, “my beautiful daughter.” Not that she was convinced that Cressida was her mother, nor Rayner her father. She didn’t think they truly considered her their daughter, either. Why would they? She was so vastly different from her parents. Her fire-red hair was unruly and wild and stood out compared to her father’s brown and her mother’s blonde.

  Calida’s complexion was similar to her mother, but there were noticeable differences, like an upward tilt of the nose or higher cheekbones. Calida stared into the muddy water as she shook off the spiralling thoughts. Who in their right mind would think there was even a chance for a girl from the backwaters of Eokiaroth to have such an adventurous life? For all she knew, her father’s great-grandfather was a redhead, and she was granted his hair.

  What a selfish girl she was.

  The image of her furious parents dragged her further into her emotional maelstrom Their imaginary gazes pierced her sluggish work pace until she got on her knees and vigorously scrubbed the cloth clean.

  Do you think your looks are all important now, child?

  She was not good at making friends, limited by her responsibilities. What else could she do but try to gain her parent’s approval? Nothing.

  Her father had grown distant since that incident. When he was at home, he would side more often with her mother. Even if she said something that was not right and he should do something, anything, Rayner would stay silent as if it weren’t his problem.

  As if Calida was not his problem.

  Her hands slowed again as her mind wandered. She aimlessly scooped wood ash onto the dirty clothing closer to her, smearing it into the stains.

  “Have you made any new paintings lately?” Jetta asked.

  Calida stared at her rippling expression in the river. The water distorted the image of her pale skin and auburn hair. Emotions bubbled up and suffocated her throat until all that remained was a wall of hurt, and the forest was suddenly too small.

  Who could have time to create paintings when she should be working hard to please her mother?

  Her friend knew her own mind, and she knew what Calida’s mother was like. Jetta grew up an orphan, abandoned before she could remember her parents’ faces. Yet she still knew Calida’s mother wasn’t any mother at all. Children from all over the continent worked or were enslaved. They were condemned to living in the slums. Calida wished to have the same ambition and confidence her closest friend had. It was her distant dream to sell paintings in a market.

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  “No, I haven’t had the time.”

  Nothing she made was good enough, anyway.

  Just like her attempts to keep up with the chores and household duties. Her mother could keep living life free from the “child-rearing burdens” as Calida lived in the background, staying quiet.

  Her chest felt hot, like a flame was building up inside her, but she had it caged. She refused to let out whatever was inside her. Letting it out could be dangerous, with side effects that could be dire.

  Her friend stood up and placed a hand on Calida’s shoulder, only to pull it away quickly as if she burned herself, shaking it to quell the sting.

  “Maybe your mother loves you in her own way.”

  Calida strained a laugh as she stood up. She churned the clothing again as the last step before returning with the wet laundry to be hung to dry.

  “Soon enough, maybe I can sell my paintings, too,” Calida said.

  She closed her eyes and breathed through the guilt in the back of her mind. If only Jetta would shut up. Calida’s hands pumped the stick in and out of the water as she pushed back the dying rage, guilt slowly eating away at her. Jetta was her only friend and she hadn’t done anything wrong. She didn’t deserve that.

  Her friend stood quietly beside her as she churned the laundry. After a while, the water cleared, and the two women could load up the laundry to take back for hanging.

  Jetta grabbed laundry from the pile and shoved it into the sack Calida brought with her.

  “What about your father? Could you manage being completely detached? Eventually, you might end up being alone for the rest of your life.”

  Calida clenched her teeth. You mean alone like you?

  Neither said anything for a moment. Calida’s head swirled as regret floated to the surface.

  Her throat closed and tears prickled her eyes at the idea of the one person she considered a sister leaving her.

  “That was out of line.” Jetta said.

  She had said it out loud. What was worse than thoughts when they betray you?

  Calida curled in on herself and then collapsed onto the ground. Her body shook and tears obscured her sight. How could I be so awful to Jetta like that?

  “It was true, though.” Her friend pursed her lips in thought.

  Calida shook her head hard and glanced up tearfully at Jetta’s nonchalant gaze.

  “Doesn’t matter. Angry or not, sisters do not say that to one another.”

  Jetta’s face softened, then she knelt on the ground and cradled Calida’s head on her lap. The wetness from her eyes dampened her dark pants. Her hand softly petted Calida’s hair.

  After a moment in silence, the two got up, covered in dirt and mud. They carried the bag of wet laundry to Calida’s house together.

  Her raw throat and dried eyes were the only evidence left of her meltdown at the river.

  They walked to the back of the house where the small garden lay to hang up the clothing. However, the last line she hung up had been cut.

  Cursing in frustration, Calida searched for the end and started to tie it once more. It was too high, and no matter how hard she tried, Calida couldn’t reach.

  “Let me.” Jetta pushed aside her hands.

  Suddenly drained of energy, Calida let her take over without protest. Jetta pulled out her throwing knives and tied the string around two of them. Calida sat down as she observed her friend hover her hand and close her eyes for a moment, but she swung the knives up and around the tree high up. Her hand moved as she manipulated them, and she tied the line on one end, then did the same on the opposite side.

  Calida stood up once more before Jetta gestured for her to sit down.

  “You did the cleaning. I will do the hanging.”

  Calida sighed and nodded, giving up resisting her stubborn friend.

  Jetta pulled out a tunic from the laundry bag and hung it up. As she pulled to straighten the material, the clothing glowed green. The natural energy, provided by who had worn it and the river it was washed in, poured from it. This continued until everything was hung up and all the energy was on the surface of the material. If Jetta wanted, she could take that energy and use it to fuel her metal magic. Someone else with an affinity for natural magic could use the energy from the material to accelerate the drying process.

  in no time at all, the clothing was hung up, and all Calida had left to do was salt the vegetables.

  Going to the wedding

  Her hands smoothed out her best dress as Cressida braided a ribbon of fabric into her hair. Calida had on a stain-free dress and a clean face. It was strange that her mother insisted she was spotless from head to toe. She looked up and met her mother’s gaze as she walked around to the front of her hair. Cressida clicked her tongue as she assessed Calida’s appearance.

  “I doubt you could accomplish any better.”

  Calida looked at her lap as her hands wrung the fabric of her dress.

  Her father walked in as her mother stood behind Calida, appearing like she had finished the tie in Calida’s braid. Rayner shifted from foot to foot as he waited for the women to leave Calida’s room. Tonight, they were attending a celebration of the marquess’s wedding.

  When Calida was a child, they would leave her with a local woman. It’s rare that they gave an invitation to her father to a celebration or social gathering. As a knight, nobility would rather he guard them. Well, in the case of those appointed as knight through a faction, he would be given the grunt jobs of the average guard. Many of them wouldn’t dare invite a commoner to their parties, knight or not. A frown appeared at the reminder of the haughty nobles who loved to step on the toes of those below them. Her mind suddenly swam with the visits to her father’s faction and watching noble after noble treat her father and his brothers in arms like they were dogs.

  Calida stiffened as Cressida gave her a slicing look when Rayner fidgeted restlessly. Her arms scratched along the chaffing fabric of her green dress as she scrunched it up and then smoothed it out once more.

  Cressida stepped away as she vainly finished messing with the ribbons in Calida’s hair. She stood up and quietly waited for her mother to tell her what to do next.

  “Don’t my girls look beautiful?” Rayner said.

  “We are, aren’t we?” Cressida grabbed onto Calida’s arm as her daughter forced a smile.

  If only she could stay back and paint.

  “I know you aren’t excited about this, Calida. But I am sure your mother has explained how important it is that you attend.”

  She had not explained anything. Her mother gripped either side of her shoulders and squeezed hard. It was stealthy enough that her father did not see it, as always.

  “Of course, Father. It is only natural that the daughter of a faction knight attends.” Calida said.

  A small smile peeked on Rayner’s face and then fell at the formality. His eyes filled with hurt before he scratched his head, looking away, but then when he turned back to her, the hurt was gone.

  Cressida interjected. “We still need to add a sprig of lavender to your braid. Then you will be perfect. After that, we will be ready to go.”

  Just never perfect enough.

  Grabbing Calida’s hand, she dragged her out of the bedroom and into the main living area. Her mother sat Calida down and then she wove a sprig of lavender between the weaves of the braid.

  Hands softly floated down Calida’s hair until her mother gently grasped her hands and gave her a sad smile while her father looked at the two women. He walked to the door and gathered their capes for the evening. Cressida, with her hands still on Calida’s, squeezed tight and glared at her in warning. “You are too argumentative. Why must you attack me so?”

  Rayner turned around and brought over the capes.

  “Calida, you look so beautiful. The flower was the perfect touch,” she breathed, the smile not reaching her eyes.

  Her heart ached from the compliment. How could the woman responsible for the cause of her mother’s pain and suffering be anything like that word, “beautiful”?

  “It’s your fault.”

  “I noticed you made a pound cake this morning. Is there a special occasion?” Calida said.

  Her father held out the cape to her mother, who grasped it and put it on. Cressida smiled softly. Any other time she would nitpick Calida’s lack of proper manners about when it’s appropriate to ask a question, but today her father was home. She was different around him, even though her father was so mellow that he was basically an extension of his wife. He was completely unaware of her mother’s behavior. Rayner’s work was his escape from the pain caused by that incident.

  “Yes, there is.”

  Calida waited for her to explain.

  “What’s the occasion?” she asked when her mother didn’t. She stood up and put on the other cape held out to her.

  Cressida paused and thought about it.

  “It’s a good day to be alive, is all. There need not be any other reason. Right, my dear daughter?”

  Maybe she needed more of a reason. Calida kept her thoughts to herself.

  She was compliantly coming to the wedding with her parents because her mother pressured on her how important it was.

  “This is a very important night for our family. You are to attend and be polite.”

  When she was younger, there had been a time she would speak for herself, loud and free. As a young girl, she had been learning just what was up to her to achieve. Not long after the incident, it fell on her to look after the home and Cressida. It wasn’t overnight, though. It started small.

  “Calida, be a dear and mend the garden.”

  Then it became more. “Be a dear and go into town for groceries.”

  Until she was taking care of the house. “Be a dear and pay the taxes to the beady-eyed nobleman.”

  She paraphrased the last one, but it changed nothing at all. The nobleman who would visit in town was a cockroach of a man. It was out of line to call him such in public, but it did not stop her from saying it in her mind.

  Her father entered his bedroom, leaving Calida alone with her mother.

  Cressida stared her daughter in the eyes.

  “You will be silent, and you will be polite. They are uncaring people who would have nothing against sending you away from us.”

  Calida met her mother’s eyes steadily and nodded. All her life, she had heard the same spiel. Be well mannered or you will never see your family again. The people around us have nothing against sending you to a nunnery or to an asylum funded by the nobles.

  Rayner sauntered into the living area from her parent’s room dressed in his formal uniform befitting a knight such as him.

  “Don’t forget to have some fun, Calida. Make some friends and socialize. It’s a party after all,” Rayner said.

  Cressida walked over to her husband and laid a hand on his chest. “Maybe she will find a man to look after her.”

  Her mother looked back at Calida and gave her appearance one last inspection. Then they exited their small home, all dressed in the fanciest outfits they could muster from their station, mounted their horses, and headed out to the event she would have to endure for the rest of the evening.

  Meet Dominic

  #

  Calida resisted the urge to scowl. If the door was close to where she was, then her escape would be eminent. Hordes of noblewomen strolled by her, snickering at her simple dress. If it wasn’t enough, her parents had mysteriously disappeared as soon as they had passed the banquet table in the middle of the room. She had only taken one peek at the lush bread. On the inside, she was yelling out in frustration and desiring to crawl into a corner.

  ”Do not take a single step out of line, Calida.”

  While being in the same room as these judgemental nobles was tiresome, the idea of her mother’s nagging later was far worse.

  I can’t go wrong with food, right?

  Calida bit her lip as she glanced at the lavish food available.

  “Maybe just a small bite.”

  Each decadent dish was designed for danger. Something she wanted to experience for the first time. A spark of excitement ignited in her.

  She explored the golden crusted pies and flaky rolls. There was a soft and airy bun that had a bittersweet coating on it was like nothing she had ever tasted before. A whole roast of chickens and pigs which had a smell that could bring a dog to heel. Her eyes closed in bliss, unable to stop the look of content on her face. The savory scent of the glazed meat. She picked up a miniature pie, and then bit into a sweet cloud that melted in her mouth. If this was happiness, she wished it would never end.

  Calida’s anxiety washed away. All it took was one bite of food to forget that she was alone at a party, abandoned by her parents at the banquet table. Surrounded by socialites who flittered from group to group. The white noise of chatter, gossip, and political bickering. Slowly the sound blurred out and silence sat around her for the first time in a long time.

  She closed her eyes for a moment until excitement sparked in her.

  With renewed vigour, she scoured the table to find something new to try. Her lips quirked into a tiny smile and her eyes glittered. She almost danced around in glee but held back. In the back of her mind, she remembered it was unmannerly, even if she wished to do so.

  “Good evening, my lady.” A deep voice spoke directly behind her as she tried the chicken. It was so sudden she startled, and the chicken she had been holding combusted into flame and then ash. Damn it to hell.

  She frowned at the ashes in her hand and then wiped them on a nearby napkin. The first thing that troubled her was the sudden combustion. It hadn’t happened in at least a fortnight. Whatever it was, it was rather odd. She hadn’t ever seen flame-producing magic anywhere in her town, but she was heavily sheltered.

  The next thing that troubled her was the man behind her.

  “My lady.”

  She was no lady of the court. There was no doubt the man was trying to gain the attention of someone else, although it scared the raggabrash out of her. The man’s voice was startlingly deep. The type of depth that made her uncomfortable. She liked the sound too much.

  Continuing to peruse the banquet table filled with a bountiful of food, Calida examined the dessert on the table that looked like another miniature pie. This one had a creamy filling and a golden crust. She picked it up and bit in. The aroma wafting from it was rich, fragrant spices. There was also a delicate taste that she could only assume was vanilla. She had never tried vanilla before. Often it was in the bakeries, but it was something much more popular with the nobility. Many of the commoners near her couldn’t afford such luxurious treats. With gusto, she ate the remaining dessert and smiled in delight at the creamy texture of the filling. It was light, but the crust was flaky and melted in her mouth.

  If only there was a pillow made of this, I would live forever in its bliss. Holding back a squeal, she licked a crumb off the corner of her mouth.

  With the bite of food in her mouth, a man cleared his throat and gently touched her arm. She jumped away.

  Turning around, Calida took in a sharp breath as she gazed upon a man who was someone to gawk at. He was most definitely attractive; no amount of time would prepare her for what she saw. His short hair was militant and neat, the sharp jaw line on his face complimented his broad shoulders. He towered over her, but his face held a gentle familiarity to it. She felt like she had seen him before, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Her heart pattered and the desire to fling herself into his arms almost overwhelmed her.

  I don’t even know him.

  Suddenly, the food that had been in her mouth was in her throat. Her face turned a deep red as she tried to cough to clear the blockage. She struggled to address the man who spoke. He gazed at her, bemused. Maybe even a bit intrigued by her strange expression before she started coughing. Then his expression cleared as he realized she was choking. Dear Eesa, I would have choked and gone to meet my maker before he noticed.

  He swiftly called for a servant to fetch him a glass of water while he patted her back and waited. The coughing dissipated, leaving her throat unobstructed. Just as the servant arrived with the water, Calida was shrugging off his arm and stepping a short distance away.

  “I have no need for the water.”

  She resisted the urge to lose herself in his gaze.

  The man had captivatingly blue eyes that could hold a woman’s soul still. Most definitely nobility because intricately woven thread made up the jacket he wore. That garment could never be owned by someone even remotely close to her station. What really grabbed Calida’s attention was his hair. The colour looked like clean hay put down in a horse’s stall. It was like a young stalk of wheat that has its flexibility and strength. If only I could touch it.

  “Who said the water was for you?”

  He gracefully took the water from the servant, then he turned towards her and drank it. A sneaky smirk appeared on his mouth, hypnotically capturing her attention.

  “Mannerly women are innocent in mind and action.”

  Calida paused a moment. What was she thinking? This man was a stranger, and she was too likely to become emotionally attached, all because of her tendency to cling to even the smallest amount of interest.

  “Just because he likes you doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy. This is for your own good.”

  “Greetings. The Earl of Weommadran, Dominic Goldwyn, presents himself to you, fair maiden, Lady of the Plain of Eleari, Calida Rhodes.” Dominic bowed formally and presented a hand for her, his eyes gazing straight into hers before he gave a wink.

  Calida was speechless. She was not a lady. It had to be a joke, and a poor one at that. The Rhodes family was not of any noble status. Her father was an Elite Dominion knight, they did not get a noble title. In fact, nobles would often mock them. While nobility could join the guard, they preferred to live in the lap of luxury, spending their time eating delectable dishes and flittering about, spreading gossip. How could he know her name and then made a joke out of her status? It was outright arrogant and rude.

  Her hands warmed as her anger spiked at the audacity of this man, twitching with the urge to just wrap him up in a ball of flames. Where had that thought come from? A frown formed on her face.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He stood up tall and smoothly took back his hand like he had never offered it. Then he smiled and said, “When your father spoke of you, I underestimated just how beautiful you would be. My lady, you are not like any other. Your complexion shimmers more than the sun shines on us all. In all my days, you have blossomed over the years since we parted.”

  Calida blinked. And blinked once more. What kind of man says such a statement like that?

  “I…ummm... what? ”