Summer in the Fifth Province of the Boundary was very much on display, with perfect, warm weather above and all the countryside beautifully aflame with rich, vibrant colours. The leaves on the trees a deep, swirling green on their thick, strong branches. The clean, fragile flowers thriving beneath and lining the edges of the billowing fields, streaming rivers, and winding roads, all dancing gently in the breeze. The birds singing out their chorus of joy and work… but for Miana Ravenswife, seeing and hearing all this Heaven was completely beyond her right now. "Marcus Ravenson, you stop that!” she scolded. Marcus had started tugging heavily at his collar again, fussing over it. “That’s new cloth and it’s very expensive!”

Their clothing was only made from an assortment of pale golden leather and bright white underclothes, but since Miana had no skill when it came to sewing – she relied entirely on hand-me-downs – and with the events of today, the last bit of the family’s savings had been spent at the local tailors. She would not see that money go to waste. “Yes, Marcus! Stop it!” one of the twins chimed from in front of them. Miana narrowed her eyes in response, knowing precisely who it was.

“And you, Jacob. Any more teasing and I swear to the Gods I’ll hang you upside down from the rafters for a week!” she threatened. In response, his face instantly drained and he spun his head back forwards.

Having waved off her eldest sons Michael and Samuel just before the dawn today, and her not being a morning sort of person in any way, shape, or form, Miana’s temper was a bit more short fused and ready to ignite. Naturally, there was also a bloody neighbours’ wedding to deal with on top of today, with then every mind numbing, back breaking chore having to be put on hold, and none of those were going to go away any time soon! Their small entourage was on its way to the wedding right now, under the midday sun and on probably one of the warmest days of the year. Gods, sometimes I really hate this simple life, Miana thought to herself, feeling ever more tired by the second. “But it’s really tight! I don’t like it!” Marcus whined.

She sighed and looked down at her youngest son, all six-summers old of him. He’d been the only one to inherit her fair hair and bright blue eyes, her four other sons having taken after their father and his light brown hair and eyes. “It’s not as tight as you think; you’re still breathing,” she threw at him. Miana might have thought she was being wicked, but she wasn’t in the mood to think right about now.

“The collars are a bit tight, love,” Raven, her husband, chimed in, tugging at his own for added effect as he walked closely beside her.

“Not you, too?” She sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. Great, now I’m being undermined in front of the children! “Fine! You can all undo the top button,” she caved, “But nothing else! Lord Wellow will be presiding over the festivities today, and I need all of you to be presentable.” While the twins and Marcus cheered in relief, with eager little fingers quickly attempting to undo top buttons, Raven didn’t move an inch. Miana’s brow creased. “Why aren’t you celebrating your triumph?” she asked him quietly when the little ones started walking a little quicker ahead, nattering some nonsense amongst themselves.

“I was merely helping our boys survive your wrath. You’re very grumpy today,” Raven answered.

“You know why.” After fifteen years of marriage, he should at least know that by now.

“Yes, yes, not a morning person, I get it,” he began, waving a hand dismissively, “But it’s the afternoon now, and it’s the best time of year.”

Rolling her eyes, Miana deigned to permit a brief moment of inspecting their current surroundings. “I… suppose you’re right,” she grudgingly admitted.

They were walking along the well-worn road through magnificent fields of peach trees, the gentle rush of a nearby river filtering between them. Lining their shallow valley were gentle, rolling hills of green, a scattering of tall oak trees standing proud upon all their brows. Towards the north were towering mountains, their snow-capped summits a brilliant white. Above their heads was a big, beautifully blue sky, with not a single speck of cloud in sight.

Their part of the Boundary, the most westerly located country on Ne’enten, was certainly peaceful and serene, a far cry from her earlier life. I suppose it is the afternoon, and I suppose I can’t be a sourpuss all day… “Why do we need to be presentable, anyway?” one of the twins asked. Miana guessed it was Andrew, since the question had been asked moderately politely. “What does Lord Wellow have to do with us?”

Miana flinched but quickly brushed it off like she’d just stumbled on a stray pebble. Her thoughts, though, hadn’t quite yet collected enough to form a coherent sentence. “Uh…”

“He does have a point,” Jacob, the other twin, pointed out, resentment spreading across his face. “What do we gain from it?”

After providing Jacob another glare that could turn a mortal to stone, with that ugly face he’d been sporting fading instantly, Miana cleared her throat and calmly explained. “As a bit of an extra income, I’m applying for the role of governess to his household.”

“He’s an old man. Why does he need a governess?” Andrew asked, forcing her to laugh once.

“He doesn’t need one,” she explained, adding, “At least I hope not, but his daughter does.”

When the boys returned to talking amongst themselves again, Raven leant his face towards her ear. “Wellow’s my age. I’m not an old man, am I?” he whispered. She turned to look at him, her smile crooked from his temporary look of insecurity.

He had two years on her, at forty-one winters, but his hair was still thick and his skin free of marks. His arms, legs, and torso were still well-toned, and except for the kind smile lines and a single notch in his brow, he didn’t look it at all. “Not in the slightest,” she answered. “Besides, your stamina is still enough to surprise me.”

She finished her point by walking into the side of him, throwing him out of step. Laughing at her antics, Raven returned to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and bringing her closer to him. Once there, she wrapped her own arm tenderly around his waist. “Where would I be without you?” she asked rhetorically, though she could easily guess at the two most probable outcomes. She’d either currently be living with unbridled power, with all who knew her name living in constant fear for their pitiful little lives, or she’d have ended up lying dead in a ditch somewhere, with no one sparing a single thought for her memory.

“You’re incredibly beautiful,” Raven told her, bringing her back from those dark thoughts.

“I thank you,” she smiled.

“I mean it. And you’re… different. Not like any other woman I’ve ever met.”

With that, she found herself frowning. Letting some of her old, bloodthirsty malice enter her voice for a moment, she demanded, “Care to elaborate?”

Raven didn’t show any terror or attempt to backpedal; maybe he hadn’t noticed her tone? He was gullibly sweet that way. “You’re strong. Beautiful. You speak your mind… and you can terrify anyone, not just our small, innocent children, by only looking at them.”

“Oh,” she said, chastising herself for thinking different was bad there for a moment, but then she smiled openly in glee; she did absolutely love scaring the life out of others with nothing but a stare…

“You are a tad blunt,” he added, looking away.

“I’m choosing to ignore that,” Miana told him, but she couldn’t resist smiling along with him.

Their destination eventually came into view; the small village of Eakring. Sounds of music and calls for celebration were already taking place, and from all the noise Miana guessed the entire Province had turned out for the wedding. Any reason to get drunk, I suppose. Even from a distance, she could see the visual results of the celebrations. The village’s countryside-bumpkin oak timber framed and wattle and daubed buildings, topped with blue, slate tiled roofs, were joined with ribbons of all colours, all draped in-between the houses and shops, tavern and barns. Plant pots made up of the summer flowers were dotted everywhere, helping to fill every available nook-and-cranny. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad?

Miana had always hated big social occasions like these. She’d certainly loved crashing parties when ultimately forced to attend, though hiding from her now lifelong enemies meant performing none of her usual shenanigans. She’d managed fifteen years in total seclusion thus far, so all she had to do was continue playing the tried and tested game of being a typical, Gods-fearing and law-abiding peasant. Maybe another fifteen years of this life was actually achievable?

A few strides later and they were within the claustrophobic confines of the village. The smells of cooked meats and sweet treats, the sounds of laughter and joy along with the jovial, bouncy music; weddings did always bring the best of things together, even if that did include people. Still, at least these were the good kind of people, and with the delicious food and rowdy songs, what more could anyone want for on a long summer’s day? Miana uselessly waved to her sons as they barrelled into the tumultuous throng, off to find the other children to play with. She then pointed to the open casks of mead, where most of the menfolk seemed to be congregating. “You, too. Go on, have fun,” she told Raven.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he answered, but after a single step, he turned back to her. “Did… did you notice anything strange in Marcus, earlier?”

“Eh?” she asked, a blank look on her face to distract from the pitfall forming in her stomach. Marcus? “Why? He… he all right?”

“He seemed… I don’t know…”

While Raven took a moment to try and find his words, Miana’s mind raced. What had their youngest son done? Had he shown something of himself? Of his… true self? She hadn’t noticed anything today, and besides, he was still so young! He… he shouldn’t be that yet! He should still be her little boy! A happy, go lucky child! Her heart thumping in her ears, Miana tried to calm herself so she could at least make up a convincing enough lie. “I guess he seemed more… mature,” Raven continued. “At least this morning, anyway.”

“Mature?” she repeated. “Is that it? Well, he’s a growing boy, it’s bound to happen eventually.”

“Yes, I know, but… I don’t know. Over breakfast, the look in his eyes seemed… wiser?” He shook his head, placing his hands on his hips in self defeat. “Maybe I made it up. Maybe he is just growing quickly,” he smiled at his misplaced worries, but then he noticed the fear on her face, with concern spreading across his own. “Hey, are you all right? You’ve turned all white like Jacob does when you threaten him.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” Miana dismissed, relief spreading through her like cool, cleansing water. Speaking of which… “Go, I just need a drink, that’s all.”

Miana watched Raven head off for the mead barrels and, wanting to get her bit over and done with, she made her way through the dense, highly excited crowd, greeting her neighbours here and there as best she could. It took a fair bit of stretching and lunging between the forever shifting tiny spaces available, but eventually Miana found the bride, the young woman surrounded by a large gobble of old grandmothers, all eager to wish her well and see her in the wedding dress. Miana tried to congratulate her too but gave up when she received a third elbow to the side.

Fearing she might flip out and massacre the whole lot of them in retaliation for their daring insolence, as she used to do back in her violent, gloriously murderous days, Miana retreated to the shade of one of the houses. She picked up a wooden mug and filled it with water from an open barrel and, after taking a sip to quench her thirst, she began one of her old favourite pastimes; people watching. Miana had done it at many occasions like this, reading and attempting to predict everyone’s next moves. She even spotted her three youngest, as small as they were, weaving in and out all over the place as they played soldiers and scoundrels with the other children. It seemed Marcus was a soldier, currently trying to chase the twins who were both scoundrels.

Cont.