Chapter 2: The Weight of Tomorrow

Morning spilled gently over the village rooftops, washing away the shadows of dawn. Everleigh lingered near the fountain in the marketplace, her hands folded in her lap, watching as the cobblestones slowly filled with people preparing for the day. Shopkeepers shouted warm greetings, setting out baskets of fresh bread or bolts of fabric, the scents of spice and soil mixing in the air. It was noisy, ordinary, and safe—a world she had always known.

But beneath the surface, everything thrummed with a quiet tension. Tomorrow. The lottery. Even the merchants moved with a slight stiffness in their shoulders, glancing more often than usual at their daughters who helped arrange produce or sweep storefronts. Everyone was waiting, dreading, pretending to be at ease.

Everleigh fiddled with the loose thread on her sleeve. She didn’t like waiting. She wanted to see Rowan.

As if summoned by the thought, a familiar voice cut through the hum of the market.

“Are you truly ignoring me, Everleigh? Or are you just so lost in thought that you forgot how to smile?”

Her head snapped up, her lips tugging despite herself. Rowan leaned casually against the side of the fountain, arms folded, a playful smirk curving his mouth. He always had that look about him—like he knew something she didn’t.

“Rowan,” she said with a half-sigh. “You never walk into a place quietly, do you?”

“Of course not. Life is too short to sneak about. Besides—” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “—if I didn’t announce myself, half the market girls would think I’d come to charm them instead.”

Everleigh rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the warmth from tugging at her chest. Rowan’s arrogance was always lighthearted, never cruel. He knew exactly how to tease her without pushing too far.

“Then I’m sure they’re disappointed to learn you only came to bother me,” she said.

“Disappointed? No, jealous.” He straightened, offering her his hand like a gentleman escorting a lady to a royal banquet. “Come on. Walk with me before I drown in their envious stares.”

She shook her head but placed her hand in his. His fingers were warm, steady, grounding her in ways she didn’t want to admit.

They wove through the marketplace together, Rowan greeting nearly every vendor by name. Everleigh noticed how easily he slipped between charm and respect—flattering an older woman about her pies, carrying a sack for a weary farmer, tossing a coin into a street child’s hand with a wink. He belonged everywhere and nowhere, and yet somehow always seemed to belong beside her.

“Do you remember,” Rowan said after a pause, “the first time we met here?”

Everleigh hesitated, caught off guard. Of course she remembered. How could she not?

She could still feel the icy water pulling her under, the way her lungs screamed as river currents dragged her down. She’d been six, clumsy and small, bullied into stepping too close to the bank. Their laughter had blurred with the rush of the river, cruel and sharp. She’d thought that was the end of her story—until strong arms pulled her up.

Rowan. A boy a year older, dripping wet, gasping as hard as she was, but smiling like he’d just conquered the world.

“Don’t you dare drown,” he’d told her, as if it were an order she could follow.

Everleigh swallowed, looking away. “Of course I remember.”

Rowan’s smile softened, losing some of its usual playfulness. “Good. I hoped you hadn’t forgotten. I like to think that moment tied us together somehow. Fate, maybe.”

Her chest tightened. Fate. Tomorrow’s lottery loomed in that single word.

“You mean fate is cruel,” she muttered. “If not for tomorrow, I wouldn’t have to think about leaving this place at all.”

Rowan studied her, his eyes unusually serious. “Do you truly think you’ll be chosen?”

She shook her head quickly. “No. I’m no one. There are prettier, wealthier, smarter girls in the villages. Girls who belong at a royal academy. Not me.”

Rowan stopped walking, forcing her to stop too. He tipped her chin up with his fingers, making her meet his gaze. “Don’t ever say that again. You’re more than all of them combined, Everleigh. If anyone belongs there… it’s you.”

The sincerity in his tone startled her. Rowan was always teasing, always joking—but this felt different. Heavy. Real.

She pulled back, heart racing. “You don’t mean that.”

He gave her a half-smile, though there was a flicker of something pained behind it. “I always mean what I say.”

They walked on in silence, the buzz of the market filling the space between them. Everleigh wanted to ask him why he cared so much, why he always showed up at the exact moments she needed him most. But the words stuck in her throat.

They ended up by the river—their river—where the water shimmered in the afternoon light. Rowan skipped a stone across the surface, watching it bounce four times before sinking.

“You’ll be chosen,” he said suddenly, his voice low. “I can feel it.”

Everleigh frowned. “Why would you say that? Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Rowan said sharply, then softened his tone. “No, Everleigh. I just… I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“That no matter what happens tomorrow—no matter where the lottery takes you—you’ll remember me.”

The request sent a shiver down her spine. “Rowan, you’re being dramatic.”

“Promise me,” he pressed.

She hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. I promise.”

Rowan smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good. Because I’ll never forget you.”

Everleigh stared at him, her heart pounding in a rhythm that felt both terrifying and safe. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but she knew one thing for certain—Rowan was hiding something. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what it was.