This year marks the thousandth year since the inception of May Day Offerings, and the village elders are even considering it an honor to be chosen. At eighteen, I’m at risk of becoming an Offering, an honor I’d rather not receive. A Black Letter is nothing more than a death sentence.
Many villagers prefer to romanticize the Offerings’ journey, speculating where they go or what becomes of them. Happily ever after’s in a land far, far away. No. The only fact is that they don’t come back. I try not to think of what my family would do without me.
I help more customers and keep my eye on my sister. I can’t help but grin when Brahm takes Thora’s hands and dances with her. A slight ache blossoms inside my chest as well. Brahm used to dance with me. My sister’s face lights up, and she leans her blonde head back as he spins her around.
A baker buys my entire stock of eggs to make braided bread for May Day tomorrow, and I’m very close to selling out of milk and cheese when Lord Albert Schulze waltzes to my booth, wearing a crisp, white blouse. Albert’s dark hair is slicked back, and his onyx-brown eyes appear black against his pale skin. He happens to be the youngest lord in the valley. Unfortunately, I work in his manor, and Albert thinks he can act like a real pompous ass because his uncle’s the high priest.
“Blessed Day, Gi-sel-a.” He draws out my name and rests his elbows on the wooden counter of my booth.
“Blessed Day, my Lord,” I say, prepping a basket for him. “Milk or cheese?”
Albert grabs my wrist and gets in my face. “When will you stop this charade? Working all day for mere coins. Instead of cleaning my house, you could live in it. With me.” He brings my hand to his thin lips and kisses it, making my skin crawl. “How many times must I ask for your hand?”
I yank my arm back. “How many times must I say no?”
His dark eyes sear into mine as he clenches his jaw. “You’re acting ridiculous. I could provide for your entire family. For Thora.”
My stomach drops. I snap my gaze to my sister, still dancing with Brahm.
Albert places two fingers on my cheek and turns my face toward his. “You know, with her condition, she’ll never get married. Think it through, Miss Sauer.” He lets his fingertips glide across my lips. “You may be the loveliest creature in Bergot Valley, but you’ll never find another man to take both you and your sister in. Think. It. Through.”
He strides away, greeting villagers, merchants, and patrolmen. My breaths are short, but I bite my tongue to keep from crying. The thought of marrying a pig like Albert Schulze is enough to turn my stomach, but winters can be harsh. One wolf-attack on our chickens or goats could mean starvation for my family.
Fortunately, that won’t be today, since I’ve sold the remainder of goat’s milk and cheese. I pack my baskets and crates into the small wagon and wave Thora over. Brahm seems busy, surrounded by a gaggle of girls; his admirers are probably wondering why their favorite lutist was absent this morning.
Thora skips into the booth and throws her arms around my neck. “No, GiGi!”
“I know, I know.” I adjust her floral crown. “You look like a magic fairy! And did I see you dancing with Brahm?”
She giggles and brings her shaking hands to her pink cheeks, too excited to speak.
“He’s too old for you.” I laugh and point to the fish he left. “But look what he gave us! You and Mama will have so much fun cooking it today.”
Thora leans her thin body against mine, her excitement melting into exhaustion as she yawns. I plop her into the wagon and make her hold the fish. Through the crowded square, I sprint with the wagon along the bumpy cobblestone, making my sister giggle. We take a shortcut down a dim alleyway, which cuts north toward home. Sometimes Thora objects, but today she’s too concerned about holding her crown.
The shadows of the alley aid the mountain breeze in kissing my neck. The sunlight blanketing the tiny homes and shops beyond beckons me to hurry.
“Have you thought it through, Gi-sel-a?” Albert’s voice echoes in the alley from behind, freezing me in place.
The Three Symbols
I DROP THE WAGON HANDLE and whirl around. Albert strides down the alley, his fancy shoes clicking on the cobblestones. In the shadows, his eyes look even darker. The look on his face sends a shiver down my spine.
Did he follow me?
I take a step between him and Thora with my hand on my hip. Albert smirks at my attempt to be tough and steers my shoulders against the wall of the bakery. Thora’s breathing quickens as she watches from our small wagon at my side.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask through my gritted teeth.
“I wanted to get you alone again.” Albert slides his hands over my breasts and grabs my hips, causing bile to rise in my throat. “You are so beautiful. Marry me.”
He repulses me, but I take controlled breaths even as my heart races in fear. My eyes dart toward the square. I wish a patrolman would check the alley. Will today be the day I use Wilhelm’s dagger?
Albert’s hands snake around my waist as he presses his lips against mine, and I shove him away. “Get your fucking hands off me!”
“You little bitch!” He grabs my chin and brings his narrow face even closer. “My uncle’s the high priest. I’m offering you and your sister security, and you can’t even be bothered? You should be on your knees.”
Thora cries in the wagon and tugs at my purse. I remain calm, drawing up my green skirt a handful of fabric at a time until it’s above my right thigh. Where my dagger hides.
“You’re scaring my sister,” I whisper and allow a soft smile to cross my face. “Let me go now, and I’ll think about it.”
Albert doesn’t release me but presses his body closer and entwines his fingers through my hair. Shit. The scent of his cologne washes over me, bringing with it another wave of nausea. His lips brush my neck and travel to my ear.
“So, you’ll think about it?” he whispers. “Good. I often fantasize about you underneath me, and this red hair splayed on my pillow.”
Nope. I can’t even pretend.
“Ugh, you’re disgusting. I lied. I will never marry you.”
Albert grunts and punches the wall beside my head. I try to slip away, but he tugs at my hair and grabs my ass with his other hand. Albert slams my back against the wall. Thora wails even louder, her blonde head cradled in her hands as she clutches her crown. Albert kisses my neck as my fingers curl around the hilt of the dagger.
“Is everything alright over here?” Brahm calls, jogging down the alley. His twisted locks of hair bouncing behind him as he rolls up his sleeves.
I exhale a sigh of relief as Albert groans and pulls his lips away. Brahm’s eyes widen under his thick brows when he gets closer. He stares at my exposed leg and the placement of Albert’s hands.
Albert releases me, straightens up, and squints at my leg too. I drop the hem of my skirt and scowl at him. We stare at each other in silence, with the only sounds being our labored breaths, Thora’s wails, and the bustling square beyond the alley. Albert clenches his jaw as crimson splotches bloom onto his pale cheeks. Overtop my skirt, I trace the carved design on the hilt of the dagger: a hazel branch, a mountain, and a flower.