Chapter 1: The Day Before

Morning always came quietly in the village of Aramore, like the kingdom itself was reluctant to rise. The thatched roofs dripped with dew, smoke from hearth fires drifted lazily into the dawn air, and the cries of crows overhead signaled the day’s toil waiting to be claimed.

Everleigh stirred awake in her narrow cot, the chill of early spring curling around her bare arms. The cottage she shared with her aunt was small—two rooms and little more. The single window above her bed was clouded with age, but when she wiped the glass with her sleeve, faint sunlight broke through. She caught her reflection.

The sight always gave her pause. The familiar shape of her face stared back, but it was her eyes that never seemed to belong. In Aramore, everyone’s gaze was brown or blue, their hair black as coal. Hers were neither. Her hair caught the light in shades that marked her as different, and her eyes—green, bright as moss after rain—had been the subject of cruel whispers since childhood. A curse, some said. An omen, others muttered. It made her a target, set apart even before she could understand why.

She pulled back from the window with a soft sigh. Today of all days, she couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Tomorrow was the Lottery.

She dressed quickly in her simple gown, the hem already fraying from wear, then tied her cloak against the bite of wind. She knew Rowan would be waiting at the market square. He always was on the days he visited, twice a week without fail. He’d never said why those days, never explained why a boy who lived a village over always seemed to have time for her, but she had long stopped questioning it. Rowan had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember—since the day by the river.

The memory tugged at her as she made her way down the narrow dirt path that curved past fields of wheat just beginning to green. Children ran past her with sticks, playing at swords, their laughter piercing the quiet. She wondered if any of them would remember her tomorrow, if she was chosen.

The market square was already busy when she arrived. Stalls lined the cobblestones, heavy with bread, fruit, and bolts of cheap cloth. The smell of roasted chestnuts mingled with that of livestock penned at the far end.

“Everleigh!”

His voice cut through the noise before she saw him. Rowan was leaning casually against the edge of a stall, hands in his pockets, his grin wide enough to disarm a soldier. His dark hair fell untidily over his brow, and though his clothes were plain, something about the way he carried himself always made him seem… different. Like he didn’t quite belong here.

“You’re late,” he teased as she approached.

“I’m not,” she shot back. “You’re just early.”

He chuckled and offered his arm in exaggerated gallantry. “Shall we take a turn through the market, my lady?”

She rolled her eyes, but looped her arm through his anyway. His presence was a comfort, warm and steady in a world that often felt like it had little space for her.

As they walked, Rowan plucked an apple from a stall and tossed a coin to the vendor before she could protest. “Breakfast?” he said, holding it out.

She accepted, biting into it with a crunch, then paused. “You know tomorrow’s the Lottery.”

His expression softened. “I know.”

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered, the words spilling before she could stop them. “I don’t want to stand there, lined up like sheep, waiting for them to choose. I don’t want to be sent away to some school where everyone will hate me more than they already do here.”

Rowan slowed, steering her toward the edge of the square where the noise dimmed. His gaze lingered on her, thoughtful, almost protective. “Everleigh… do you remember the river?”

She blinked at him. “Of course I do.”

Her mind slipped back, unbidden, to the day that had bound them together.

*Flashback*

Twelve Years earlier…

The river ran fast that day, swollen from spring rains. Six-year-old Everleigh had lingered at its edge, her bare toes curling in the mud. She’d wanted to watch the water, to see if she could spot the silver flick of fish in the shallows.

But she hadn’t been alone. A group of older boys had found her, their laughter sharp as knives. They’d circled, mocking her hair, her strange eyes. One had shoved her, hard enough that she stumbled.

“River rat,” they jeered. “Witch girl!”

The next push sent her into the water.

The shock of cold stole her breath. The current yanked her under, tumbling her end over end. She’d never learned to swim. Panic clawed at her chest, and for a terrifying heartbeat she thought this was how she would end—swallowed by the river that had always seemed too wide, too wild.

Then hands seized her wrist. Strong, steady. A boy’s voice shouted over the rush of water.

“Hold on!”

She clung desperately, coughing as he dragged her toward the bank. Somehow he pulled her free, sprawling beside her in the mud, both of them gasping.

She remembered blinking up at him through wet lashes. He couldn’t have been more than seven, but his grip had been firm, his expression fierce.

“You’re safe now,” he’d said. “I’ve got you.”

She had believed him.

That was the day she met Rowan. From then on, he’d appeared in her life as though it was the most natural thing in the world—walking her home, sharing stolen fruit, teaching her how to throw stones that skipped across the river’s surface. He never once called her strange. Never once looked at her as if she didn’t belong.

*End of Flashback*

Back in the market square, Everleigh drew in a shaky breath. “If you hadn’t been there…”

“I was there,” Rowan said firmly, his voice cutting through her memory. “And I always will be.”

She tried to smile, but her heart was heavy. “You can’t promise that. If I’m chosen—”

“Then you’ll go,” he interrupted. “But you’ll still be you. The same girl who throws apples at my head when I annoy her. The same girl who doesn’t let anyone else’s words decide her worth.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“Maybe it is.” His grin returned, soft this time. “Besides, if they’re looking for a future princess, they’d be fools not to choose you.”

She laughed despite herself, nudging his shoulder. “Now I know you’re lying.”

“I never lie to you.” His gaze lingered a moment too long, warm and unreadable. Then he straightened, clapping his hands together. “Come on. I’ll buy you something sweet before your aunt comes looking for us.”

As they turned back into the bustle of the market, Everleigh let herself breathe easier. Tomorrow would come whether she wanted it or not. But today—today, she had Rowan.

And somehow, that made the weight of the Lottery a little less unbearable.