Melia Summerhay combed her hair as she did every morning.
Although she was from a well-off merchant family in the village of Tinyspring, she didn’t have a real glass mirror, only a small polished piece of scrap metal.
The three-story house she lived in had only two mirrors, one for her mother and one for her older sister, Talia.
At eighteen, Talia was expected to make a good marriage, so naturally she needed one more than Melia.
Melia sighed deeply at her reflection and scratched her nose with her nails.
She pinched a huge, painful pimple on one side of it.
She hated her nose!
It was too small and covered with ugly freckles.
The treatment only hurt more and made her nose look worse.
Two thin, bloody streaks adorned it.
“Aargh!” she cried and threw the metal mirror into the corner.
She jumped onto her bed and buried her face deep in the pillow while the mirror clattered to the floor, bounced back, and hit the small vase on the table.
The vase teetered on the edge before crashing to the floor and shattering into pieces.
Melia braided her hair angrily into two tails and tied them with red velvet bows.
She pulled a scarf and an apron from the wardrobe and put them on.
Then she slouched downstairs and shot her mother an angry glance.
“What is it, dear?” her mother asked.
“You should be assisting your father already.
He’s waiting for you at the bakery.” “Why me?
Why do I have to help Father?
Why not Talia or Noah?
He’s already thirteen!” She threw her hands up and finally pointed to her little brother, who was eating breakfast at the table and sticking out his tongue at her.
“Just go already,” her mother said wearily and pursed her lips as she saw Melia’s uneven braids and her askew scarf.
On top of that, Melia wore her apron inside out.
The child was impossible.
Melia turned and stuck up her tongue at him.
Her mother nudged Melia with her elbow.
It was unfair that Melia was the family workhorse.
She slipped her hands into the pockets of her apron.
Talia didn’t have to work at all.
Early mornings ruined her face and hard work ruined her hands.
Mother and Father expected her to improve the family’s prospects, and Noah… Well, he was a boy, the heir to the Summerhay Bakery, and needed to be educated.
Even if her little brother was taken by the forest spirits and never returned, the business would never be hers.
There were no laws or customs preventing women from owning businesses.
Plenty of successful women did.
The problem was her family.
And Melia, she was nothing in this family.
“I’m just a horse.
A slave horse,” she muttered to herself.
“Even the maids in the house and the workers at the bakery are treated better,” she added and kicked an imaginary pebble.
She muttered about her miserable life all the way to the bakery next door.
It always smelled delicious, and when Melia hopped inside, the workers greeted her cheerfully.
Secretly, Melia loved to help her father and learn everything he knew about baking bread, buns, and cakes.
Today was cake day, which came every fifth day and always put everyone in a good mood.
After finishing the daily bread, they would make honey buns, sweet rolls, and several kinds of cake.
The workers could take some of the treats home as part of their wages.
Tomorrow would be their day off, and the bakery would be closed.
“You are terribly late, little bunny,” her father remarked.
He watched her from beneath his brows, still stirring a fresh batch of cake batter in a huge wooden bowl.
“Go to James.
He’s waiting for you to help him load the cart.” James was one of the most trusted workers in the bakery and had been around as long as Melia could remember.
He was ancient, probably already over fifty years old.
Melia thought everyone over thirty was old and boring.
“Okay,” Melia said and hurried to the loading dock to find him, chewing on a piece of bread she had stolen from the side table.
She gently patted the bulging pocket of her apron, where two of her favorite sweet butter buns lay wrapped in wax paper.
She licked her lips.
Delivering goods through the village was always exciting.
She had fun waving at everyone, whether she knew them or not, especially because strangers often gave her the funniest looks.
Sometimes their reactions made Melia laugh so hard she nearly fell off the cart.
Talking to customers was the best way to hear fresh news and gossip.
Melia loved to hear everything that happened in this small village of hers.
“Hop in, Melia.
We only have one customer left,” James said when they had finished unloading the cart for the current delivery.
Melia hopped onto the cart seat beside James and rubbed her stomach, which was demanding the hidden bun in her apron pocket.
She had saved one bun for herself and another for her friend, Rive Thornwick, from the old Thornwick house, which was their next and last stop.
Melia had turned sixteen just last week and was a day older than Rive, which made her the “adult,” whereas Rive was the “baby.” “Yes.
I’m meeting him today,” Melia said, turning to James.
She patted her apron pocket once more to make sure the goodies were safe.
“Didn’t his father forbid you from meeting him?” “Oh, yes, but he won’t find out.” Melia shrugged.
The plan was for Rive to hop onto the empty cart so they could hang out near the river.
Melia grinned just thinking about it.
“Hey, is that a forest spirit?” Melia called to James and pointed to a dirty figure running across the market square.
The figure had a blond mop of fur on its head, or maybe it was hair.
Behind it, people were trying to shoo the creature away by yelling and throwing rocks at it.
James pulled the reins to stop the cart when people crowded in front of them to look at what was happening.
Melia saw her opportunity and jumped off the cart.
“See you!” She waved at him and ran after the commotion.
Behind her, James was already sighing her name.