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I felt nauseous as Jophel, the butcher’s youngest son, walked inside like he owned our home. He was a short man with long, greasy hair and a quick temper. I’d known him all my life. Gone to school with him. I tried to avoid him as best I could. He knew my answer would always, and forever, be no.

So, what was he doing in my house?

His dark eyes shot to me, scrutinizing my body in a way that made me shiver. “Susara, you finally came home.”

“What are you doing here?” My voice was level and clipped.

“I left my coat.” He went to the chair across from my father and picked his black cloak up off the back. “I see you’re still wearing yours. Don’t tell me you just arrived.”

“That’s none of your concern.” I balled my fists.

His jaw ticked and his muscles were tight. “What kind of woman isn’t home to cook dinner for her ailing father?”

My stomach churned with guilt. “The kind who has a flock to tend to. ”

His smug expression made my blood run cold. “Not for too much longer.”

“What did you say?”

“He hasn’t told you?” Jophel looked from me to my father.

“Jophel, you should go,” my father said.

“Told me what?” I demanded.

“Don’t interrupt your father,” Jophel scolded as if he wasn’t two years my junior.

“You’ve got your coat. Now get out of my house.”

Jophel narrowed his eyes at me and crossed his arms. “Your father has been far too lax with you. A girl like you should know her limits by now.”

“Jophel! Go. Now.” My father’s voice was a near shout, and I couldn’t seem to find my voice at all through my shock.

Jophel narrowed his eyes but begrudgingly went. The door slammed shut behind him, and I was left with nothing but icy dread.

“Father. What was that? Why was his coat here?”

My father let out a long exhale. “Please sit down, Susara. ”

“No,” I said firmly. “I won’t. Just tell me what is going on.”

He looked down at the bowl in his lap and then straightened, looking me in the eyes. “The woods are too dangerous for you.”

My stomach dropped down to my feet. “It’s not that dangerous, Father. The biggest threat I’ve come across so far is a little flooding. I’m fine.”

“You need more protection than I can provide. I’ve decided to let Jophel take over the flock.”

I couldn’t even breathe.

“He promised to let you go into the woods with him.”

“You’re giving him the flock?”

“He said he’d do it for only half the wool and mutton.”

“Half the wool and mutton!” I cried. “Father, no! ”

“This is for the best, Susara.” Father’s voice was hard and firm.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “It was you who always said that I would take over the flock. You said you’d never let them be taken from me.”

“That was before.” His mouth was a flat line and his eyes were devoid of all warmth. “That was before the warriors came to these woods.”

“Don’t tell me you truly believe the warriors are as dangerous and vile as the gossips say!” It was on the tip of my tongue to bring up Caivid. To tell Father about how kind he’d been, how generous.

“It isn’t just the gossip. Some of my own friends have agreed they are dangerous. They’ve talked to some of them, seen how angry they can get, and how they fight so brutally with each other.”

“Not all of them are like that. Some of them are nice—”

“It doesn’t matter if some are nice,” my father contested. “Chief Sythcol has confirmed that more may be settling in the Rove Woods by the end of the winter. These woods will be filled with them.”

“So, you chose Jophel?” I nearly spat.

“He’s a good man,” my father said before quietly adding, “And. . . he’s still unmarried.”

“You cannot be serious!”

Father wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“You know how I feel about him!” I shouted loud enough to wake the Fades. “All Jophel ever talks about is having a wife to do his cooking and cleaning and raise his children for him. Why do you think he hasn’t found a wife by now?”

“That was a long time ago. When you were still children. He’s changed, Susara. The years have humbled him.”

“What about his actions just now made you think he’s changed?”

“You must give him a chance. He’s the only man I found that said he’d let you continue to go into the woods with the flock.” I could see the desperation in my father’s face and it made my stomach churn. He’d really tried. He’d tried to find me a husband.

And the only one he found was Jophel .

“I cannot marry him, Father,” I said firmly. “I will not. He’s lying about letting me go with the flock and you know it. He’ll chain me to the stove the first chance he gets!”

“Better chained to the stove than dead!”

My breath caught in my throat and my father’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d said. He raked a hand over his face. “I can’t lose you, Susara. I already lost your mother. I can’t bear to lose you too.”

“I won’t marry him. I won’t. And you can’t force me. Headman Gerald would never allow it.”

The silence was so oppressive, my lungs burned .

Finally, he murmured. “I won’t force you to marry him, Susara, but he is taking over the flock. Tomorrow morning is his first day.”

My throat felt choked, and my eyes prickled, and my vision blurred.

I saw his throat work in a gulp. “I’m sorry, Susara. This is the only way to keep you safe. If you can think of an alternative by morning, I’ll consider it.”

Before I could break down and make a fool of myself, I turned on my heel and stormed down the hall to my bedroom. The small space had been my place of protection and reprieve. Now it felt like a cage.

I paced over to the bed in the corner, picked up my wool-stuffed pillow, and threw it hard. It bounced off the wall almost lazily, lacking the violence of my anger.

He was giving the flock, my flock, to Jophel. Jophel!

How could he steal my life away so easily? How could he just burn my future to the ground? The pain was so sharp I could hardly breathe.

I looked out the window into the darkening woods. Just a few moments ago, I was out there with my flock, walking the paths I’d always known. Laboring and laughing. . .

With Caivid .

With Caivid, the warrior orc.

The exact threat that my father was so afraid of.

My eyes widened as an idea popped into my head. A silly, stupid, perfect idea. I wrung my hands and paced the room, trying to talk myself out of it. Trying to convince myself it would never work.

But the eager face of that warrior orc kept popping up in my brain. The warmth of his embrace still lingered.

Caivid.

I knocked over my lamp as I yanked out a warmer dress and didn’t bother to pick it up. I popped a button on my damp gown as I changed and left it in a rumpled heap on the ground. My muddy boots left tracks on my floor as I went to my desk and scribbled down a frantic note with jerky, shaking hands.

I didn’t need to bring anything else.

I climbed over my bed, uncaring that my muddy shoes left huge footprints on my bedsheets. I would wash them tomorrow. After I made sure I would have a tomorrow.

I threw open the window. The cool night breeze fluttered over my face. The air was crisp and cleansing.

I sucked in a breath, hesitating only for a moment. This was a dumb idea. Foolhardy and risky and. . . and. . .

And worth it.

I whistled into the night and was relieved when a little robin swooped out of the nearest tree and landed on my windowsill.

The bird looked the same as any other—tiny black eyes, red breast, tapping feet.

They were a marvel of these woods, enchanted by the magic of the conjurer orcs to carry our messages to anyone we asked.

I swallowed hard. “Can you take this to Caivid? The warrior orc?”

The bird cocked its head at me, and for a moment, my chest tightened with dismay. What if the magic did not extend to the warriors?

And then he stuck out his tiny leg for me to tie the message.

I exhaled with relief and the moment I’d gotten the parchment secured, he flew out into the night.

Now it was my turn to join him.

If my father thought the woods were too dangerous for me, then I would get myself a protector.

A protector that was the source of my father’s fear.

With that determination, I climbed over my windowsill and leaped out into the night.