Smoke and Rain by V. Holmes Read Free Book Online

there was such light in his eyes.” She looked down.
    “Breakfast?” Kepra bustled back into the kitchen. “How did you find the city?”
    Alea sat quietly, her fingers brushing the wood of the bar. She felt vulnerable, open, but it was as refreshing as it was uncomfortable. “I thought the market was interesting. The food smelled different. I like the spices you use.” Her throat was tight. “I feel a bit lost. I am used to whirlwind days.”
    “I would welcome the help, if you wish to keep busy. I have more vegetables that need peeling and cutting.”
    Alea knew her smile probably looked desperate, but she could not keep the happiness from her face. She hastily tied on an apron and followed Kepra into the heat of the kitchen. Noontime was accompanied by loud men, sweaty and dusty from the fields, and Arman with a small canvas-bound book. He smiled at his mother and, noting the crowd, chose a stool at one of the kitchen counters. He sat, book open, with a cheap quill in one hand and a mug of stew in the other. He was mostly finished when Alea coughed softly from the farthest corner.
    “What are you working on?”
    Arman choked on his potato, breath wheezing for a moment before he turned to peer behind him.
    Alea perched on a stool by the stove. Her hair was bound up under her scarf and flour marked her cheek where she had brushed it away in the midst of preparing dumplings.
    “A design for a client.” He raised his voice, “Ma?” When Kepra glanced around the doorframe he continued, “You did not enlist milady to cook, did you?”
    “Perhaps you could ask her yourself, Arman. Do not be rude.”
    Arman turned back. “You don't have to earn your keep, you're still recovering. And you could eat in the common room.”
    Alea looked down, smiling. “Business will keep my thoughts away. There are too many loud men out there and the kitchen is warm.”
    Arman still looked surprised when he cleared his dishes. At the doorway he paused. “If you want something more suited to you, there is a library I would be glad to show you.”
    He was gone before Alea could respond, but she turned the thought over in her mind for many minutes. Her foster-father had a library of his own, and she had been gifted with books. What titles await me in this city?
    Kepra's voice cut through her thoughts. “I just have to clean. You seem lost in thought – do you need to rest?”
    “Arman mentioned a library.”
    “Of course. I'm afraid we only have two books of our own, but the Guild's library is extensive. Were you thinking of visiting tomorrow?”
    “I was.” Alea swept the counter top clean and began to scrub the wood. “My foster father gave me a poetry book. The collection here might have new ones.”
    Kepra stared at her a moment, brown eyes thoughtful. “May I ask you something?”
    A note in her soft tone made Alea pause. The fingers that had been picking at a stubborn piece of dough stilled. “Of course.”
    “You were wearing gold and a ring on your finger. Arman said you were in the garden of the manor. You speak of your foster-family and your ihal with the same love. May I ask who you are?”
    Alea stared. Many had told her who she was and what she would become – an intelligent girl without valuable history who would make a good wife for a wealthy commoner. She had been lucky that her foster-brother agreed to marry her. None of those things mattered now. Alea opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, this time with a more stubborn look on her face.
    Kepra leaned forward and touched her hand. “If it is difficult to answer, don't. It may deserve some thought.” She took the dishtowel from the younger woman's hands. “I can finish up here.”
    Alea thanked her then rose. She stopped just outside the bubble of noise from the other patrons. Her wall was strong and thick. Normally she kept her vitriol in check, bitterness easily disguised as wry wit. Every wall has chinks. When something wormed its way