Page 10 of Hollowed
“Oh?”Icrossed my arms over my chest, my hackles rising instantly.Theword—and the accompanying tone—had spilled from my lips beforeIcould swallow it down, and now that it was out there, we’d all have to deal with the consequences.
“Youare the heir toSleepyHollow,” saidBrom, his voice slow as ifIwere a stupid child and not a fully capable adult woman with enough power to burn him to ash where he stood.Itreminded me all too much of how my mother had spoken to me this morning. “Ifyou die before you are married, no one will inherit the town after your parents eventually pass.”
Asif my parents would not try for another child, a boy this time, before my body was even cold.
“Brom, this is hardly appropriate to discuss so soon after she got the news,”Ichabodscolded.Hefrowned at me. “Iapologize for his insensitivity,Katrina.”
“Youdo not need to speak for me, schoolteacher.KatrinaknowsIam speaking the truth.Wedo not have the time to sit and dawdle.”
“Pleaseleave now,”Isaid, my voice cold and harsh, echoing that of my mother’s.WhenIpointed at the door, my fingers were smoking.Itook a deep breath, trying to keep my fire under control, but the thread of willpower was quickly unraveling with every wordBromandIchabodspoke.Mypowers bubbled beneath my skin, begging to be let out to destroy everything in sight.
“Youare being unreasonable,”Bromprotested, taking a cautious step toward me, his palms out as if he were trying to calm a wild horse. “Youmust think of the town.”
“Bromdoes make a valid point,”Ichabodadded, shrugging. “Ifnot one of us, consider marrying someonebefore the ceremony.”
“Thoughreally, it should be me,”Bromchimed in again, tugging at the lapels of his jacket and sniffing.Ifhe sniffed once more,Imight consider cutting his nose off.
“No, you have made her angry.Itshould be me.”
“Ichabod, you are a fool.”
“Afool?Youare the one who continues to insult her!”
“STOP,”Iroared as flames erupted from my hands and shot down into the floor.Asquickly as they ignited,Ismothered them out, drawing the burning anger back into my chest and pushing it low into my belly.Onlythe smell of acrid smoke and singed hair remained.
Bothmen froze, their eyes wide and mouths open as they looked at me.
Iraised a shaky finger, pointing to the door again while the smoke still smoldered from my now blackened fingernails. “Getout.Now.”
“Fine, we will leave.Butwhen you calm down, we should discuss this more,”Bromsaid, collecting himself and straightening his clothes.
“Youfool,”Ichabodgrumbled as he pulledBromout of my shop and closed the door, giving me an apologetic look.
Finallyalone again,Islumped to the floor, my back against the counter.SurprisedthatHenryhad not come out at the commotion,Igrabbed a rag off the floor and used it to scrub the soot from my hands.Myfire never burned me, but it left its traces behind on my skin.
Itwas not even midday, andIwas already beyond ready to crawl back into my bed and hide from the world beneath my covers.Asupsetting asBromandIchabod’swords had been, there was an element of truth.Ineeded to face this at some point.Theitching desire to find a way to escape my fate sunk into my bones, but the fear of failure paralyzed me, wrapping around my lungs and squeezing tightly untilIdismissed the idea.
Complacencyand courage warred inside me, one side pushing me to give in and do what everyone expected, while the other whispered thatIshould burn my own path into the world…Oneof them sounded like my mother.
Sighing,Ipulled myself away from the counter and crawled over to the scorched floor, rubbing at the soot and ash with the rag.Henryhad enough to worry about without me burning down his shop.
Six
Hourspassed, andIwas still here, working on the same vaseI’dstarted the previous day.Mythoughts raged like a storming current, andIcouldn’t focus long enough to perfect the form.
ForyearsIhad simply turned a blind eye to the way my parents, as heads of theCiallmhar, ledSleepyHollow.Itwas foolish and privileged;Iknew that, but it was allIhad known.NowthatIwas facing certain death,Ihad questions.Concerns.Idid not want to die.AndIdid not want anyone else to die, either.
Sighing,Islammed my hands down into the mound of wet clay on my wheel.Thevase had once again not been going the wayIintended, like everything else in my life right now.Itwas time to start over.
Inall my life,Ihad never seen any sign of the danger my parents continually spouted about.Nomortals had ever seen the bridge leading intoSleepyHollow.Thebarrier did its job, concealing us and keeping them out, though some had wandered near it, oblivious to the magically shrouded structure just meters away from them.
TheHorsemanhad never sought to punish us, and no one in the town had ever seen him.Hadanyone stopped to question the practice?Idoubted it.Myparents’ word was law inSleepyHollow, as it had been for longer thanI’dbeen alive.Andno one dared question them.
Myhands wobbled over the clay as my mind wandered.Myparents knewIdisapproved of the practice, despite never saying it aloud, andIcouldn’t help but wonder if that was the reasonIwas named asRoghnaithe, along with my other perceived failures.Ishould have been married off by now, and yetIstill lived with my parents, no doubt a product of both my own design and my parents’ belief thatIwould never be good enough for anyone.EspeciallysinceIwasn’t good enough for them.Ipushed my hands into the clay, the wet earth squishing between my fingers asIsqueezed.Iclosed my eyes and drew a shuddering breath.
Myparents—my mother in particular—had never been shy about letting me know how disappointingIwas.Andgiven their prolonged mortality,Ihad no doubt my parents would try for another child after my death.Maybeone that would live up to their unattainable expectations; one that was not broken like me.
“Whatdid that clay do to anger you, girl?”Henryasked as he walked up in front of my wheel.Iopened my eyes, pulling my fingers from the mound of clay and wiping them on my apron.Hesmiled, butIcould still see the sadness in his eyes.