The following days were enjoyed by many as spring officially arrived. Birds sang and blossoms bloomed. All seemed to be having a lovely time.

Except for Marcy.

This season usually brought her joy, but this year came with a pest problem. Sitting in his now usual spot in the inn’s dining room sat Penryn, trying to balance a slice of cooked bacon on his nose.

“Gross. You’re going to get your nose all greasy," she berated him. "Didn’t your mother teach you not to play with your food?”

“Actually, I learned this trick from her--and good morning to you, too, Marcy!”

Penryn had been staying at the inn “for convenience” as his “target was nearby”. To his annoyance and Marcy’s relief, he couldn’t make any moves against a healer without concrete proof. Mere speculation wasn't enough.

That mistake had already been made by a bounty hunter who thought she’d found a healer, but she did not verify their healing ability beforehand. It turned out her hunch had been wrong. The king mistook the woman’s actions as deceit and the punishment was her life.

Penryn wasn’t willing to make the same mistake, nor was any other bounty hunter after that incident, but Marcy had had quite enough of him following her around. She spotted him almost everywhere she went. She wondered what had happened to the stealth-like movement she had seen from him at their first meeting.

Marcy didn’t dare sneak any healing until she was sure Penryn had left town, and it was making her cranky. Knowing she could never outrun him, her only option was to clear herself of all suspicion. After that, she planned to take the first carriage out of town.

She scoffed and filled up his cup. Despite it all, she still had a job to do, no matter how annoyed she was with the whole situation.

“I really enjoy our time together, you know,” said Penryn, fully aware of how much she hated him.

“Don’t you have a job to go to? This can't possibly be the only thing you have to do with your time.”

“I’m doing my job. Right now. So, where are we going today?”

“We aren’t going anywhere and what I do with my free time is my business.”

“Our business,” he gleefully corrected.

Marcy took in a deep breath and tightened every muscle in her body.

You can’t punch guests, Marcy. Hang in there.

She left his table, before doing something she’d regret, and stopped at Argus’ table. He wasn’t a guest at the inn but was a regular visitor around mealtimes and Marcy always enjoyed saying hello to him when he did come by.

She refilled Argus' cup with fresh coffee. He raised his bushy gray eyebrows to clear a path for his eyes and looked up at her, taking his attention away from his newspaper.

“Oh, Marcy!" He exclaimed, as if anyone else would be pouring his coffee. "How are you this morning?”

“I’m alright. Trying to keep busy. And you? Any word from your granddaughter?”

“No, not yet,” he said as his eyebrows lowered. “I’m sure I’ll hear from her soon, though.”

Argus looked behind Marcy, his eyes landing on Penryn.

“Marcy, I don’t know if you've noticed but that young man keeps ogling you.”

Marcy swung her gaze in the direction Argus indicated.

“Oh, no. That’s just Penryn. He’s not looking at me in that way, he’s just…got a problem with personal space.”

“If you say so, but if he ever gives you grief, I’ll take care of him for you,” he nodded in agreement with himself as he gathered his bushy brows together.

Marcy smiled at the thought of old Argus taking down a Drakin for her.

“You’re always looking out for me. I’ll let you know if I need backup.”

As breakfast ended, so did her shift, and the second her replacement showed up, she was out the door. The back door, to be precise. Today, she was determined to lose Penryn.

Taking the most convoluted path she could, she swerved through the trees that littered the town and squeezed down snug alleyways. She battled cobwebs, climbed fences, and tried her best to mimic the shadows, until she finally reached her destination at the front doors of the library. She shot a glance over her shoulder before entering, relieved not to see anyone familiar along the way.

She picked out a book and retreated to her precious corner, only to find that her favorite spot was already taken.

“Blight,” she whispered under her breath.

It was Penryn in her spot.

Only then did she realize how futile it was to sneak around when she kept the same routine every day. Of course, he would know where she was headed.

Marcy cursed her inability to be unpredictable as she hid behind a tower of books, hoping that Penryn hadn’t yet seen her. Luckily for her, although he’d obviously been waiting for her to show up, he hadn’t noticed her arrival.

Marcy noticed how Penryn was unusually mesmerized by the book in his hands. His eyes steadily traced the lines of the page, back and forth without ceasing, yet they didn't look focused in the least. His facial expressions changed ever so slightly as he made progress through the pages.

She was sure she’d worn the same look on her face when she was deep into a book and knew that Penryn belonged to that story now. She thought about using the moment to slip out of his sight, when the title of his book caught her eye.

The Death of Iris.

It was one she had read many times. When Marcy found a book she liked, she often returned to it. It was a drama at its core, which surprised Marcy. She wouldn’t have expected Penryn to pick up such a genre.

While it was amusing to see him so wrapped up in something unexpected, Marcy thought of something even more amusing to her. A truly vile plan for any book lover. She quietly walked over to the reading nook Penryn had stolen from her.

“Hey.”

He startled out of his trance.

“Oh, yeah, hey.”

“Good book, eh?”

“Yeah, it’s not bad.”

She leaned in close so that Penryn could hear her very clearly in their quiet setting and whispered, “None of the characters are real. Iris lost her mind in her isolation.”

Marcy smirked and walked away as Penryn frantically flipped the pages to the last chapter.

“Are you kidding me?!” he nearly shouted in disbelief after verifying her claims.

“SHHHH!” came a hiss from a bodiless figure somewhere in the sea of shelves.

Penryn ignored it and sprang up in search of his enemy. He found Marcy giggling unrepentantly in the romance section.

“Why would you do that? You ruined the whole story!”

Marcy paused her laughter and retorted in the most sarcastic voice she could muster, “Oh no. Did that bother you? I'd hate to ruin your day.”

“That was low.”

“Maybe you should stop following me, then.”

“Sorry, no can do. The reward is too high for me to say no.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot…”

Penryn returned the book to its original home, leaving Marcy to reclaim her favorite cushion. Both unaware of the domino effect that would come from Marcy’s actions that day.