Aelric's mouth dropped open. "The Tainted?"

He had heard the term before. It meant someone who was demon-touched. A person who knowingly consorted with demons and the devil himself. A dark sorcerer.

Sharp turned to him, a look of regret in his eyes. "I shouldn't have told you that. Don't speak of this to anyone else, Aelric. We cannot let her know that we are wary of her. She is indeed an Ascendant like you claim, and the best we can hope for is that she passes through our village quietly without trouble. No one can be allowed to confront her. I will speak to the other elders…" Sharp let out a harsh hiss of realization. "If she is not a fool, she will have kept an eye on you and has likely seen us together. I cannot speak to any of them at the feast otherwise it would rouse her suspicions. No… it will have to happen afterward."

"What should I do?"

"Nothing. In fact, I am going to shout loudly at you now, and you are to turn around and act as if you have been admonished."

"For what?"

"I don't know, asking me something stupid, I suppose. Boyhood relationship advice?" There was a look in Elder Sharp's eye that suggested he knew something about his and Feyna's break.

"How do you—"

"Get out of here with that! I have no time for love-sick fools like you!"

Aelric blinked, surprised by Sharp's sudden vitriol.

"Scram!" Sharp barked, and he started hitting Aelric with his stick when he did not move fast enough.

Aelric leaped up and out of Sharp's strike range, rubbing his shoulder where the cane had landed. He stared back at the old man in disarray, but moved away as he'd been told, back toward the crowds. Others were looking in his direction now, drawn by the commotion, some laughing.

Then he saw her in the midst of the square. She had turned just at the moment, she had been smiling, and their eyes met. She looked beautiful, wearing a white linen dress and matching white flowers braided into her bright red hair.

Her expression changed instantly and she looked away. She did not want to see him. Did not want to speak to him. She left her position, heading deeper into the crowds, and he lost sight of her.

He wanted to chase after her, to demand that she speak with him. But he knew it was pointless. Nothing had changed about his situation. His father's plan at the market had failed. There was nothing he could offer her. And how could he blame her? Who would want to be part of the suffering that his family experienced?

A voice broke through his thoughts.

"What did you do to old Sharp? He's far too old for you, Aelric."

Aelric turned to see Yorge swaggering toward him and his heart dropped. The boy was a year younger, but nearly tall as Aelric and much wider. Aelric's physique was nearly all muscle due to his family's situation. For the same reason, Yorge's frame was heavy with fat.

"What do you want, Yorge?" Aelric said.

"Who do you think you are, taking that tone with me?" Yorge said.

And he was right, Aelric realized. He never spoke with such casual impatience. Usually he was timid, or at best, bristling with contained anger.

Yorge got right up into Aelric's face. He could smell the waft of cider on the boy's breath. "I don't even know why you're allowed to attend the festival. You eat plenty but donate a trifle. This village has no room for beggars."

Aelric felt the old heat then. "We don't beg. And we brought more than what we take."

Yorge’s smirked then, getting what he wanted from Aelric. “Right, right. I suppose crumbs are better than nothing.”

Aelric knew Yorge was itching for a fight. And he knew how it would end. Yorge would take him on physically, and if he lost the uperhand, then he would use his arcana. It would matter that Aelric lost or who started the fight, it would only bring shame on Aelric’s family. As his grandfather once said, When trouble finds the poor, everyone believes it is deserved.

But Aelric found his fingers tightening into fists all the same. He was waiting for Yorge to say something about his parents next. He always did, and Aelric would not accept that.

“Back off, Yorge,” said a new voice.

Aelric turned to see Brint standing nearby, filling his mug from a pitcher at the cider table. Brint’s usually cocky demeanor was replaced with something softer. He didn’t look at Aelric, but the command in his voice was clear.

Yorge frowned, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. He also looked confused and off balance. Usually Brint was the one who was taunting Aelric. “What’s it to you, Brint?”

Brint shrugged and took a long loud sip from his mug that Yorge had to wait for. Then he let out a loud satisfied sigh and said, "It's a feast and you're pulling down my spirits."

Yorge pointed at Aelric. "He's the one pulling down everyone's spirits. It's like you said before, Brint. Just looking at him makes me feel bad about my village."

"Then why don’t you leave? We don't want you feeling bad, do we?"

"What?" Yorge said, obviously confused. "No… I'm not the one…" Looking befuddled and afraid to be the new target of Brint's torment, he shook his head and walked away.

Aelric stood in disbelief as he turned to Brint. "Why did you do that?"

Brint shrugged again. "Just felt like it."

"You just felt like it?"

"Yeah," Brint said. "It's the harvest festival and he was being an ass."

"You're always an ass to me. Do you remember what you said to me last harvest festival?"

Brint grinned. "Yeah, that's true. But that stuff doesn't matter anymore. Guess I've got bigger things on my mind."

Aelric almost laughed at that. Brint was the son of the wealthiest hunter in the village—he never had to worry about anything. But he bit back his retort, not wanting to provoke him.

"You take care of yourself, Aelric," Brint said with a raise of his mug. “Here’s to hoping you grow out of being a cry baby.”

There was the barb that Aelric had been waiting for. But that had been all of it. Without waiting for a reply, Brint walked away, leaving Aelric alone beside the cider table. Where was the follow up? Yorge’s taunts were nothing compared to Brint’s. But the boy disappeared into the crowd, and Aelric wondered what could possibly be weighing on Brint so heavily that it would make him abandon his usual tormenting ways.

Then he caught sight of the Ascendant again. She was speaking with Chief Clarity now at the elder’s table. Again he wondered what she was doing here. But his eyes did not linger long, remembering what Sharp had said, and he headed back toward the benches to find his parents.