Stalks of Gold Sneak Peek
Stalks of Gold will be releasing January 28th on Amazon, but you can read the next two chapters and receive a free fairy tale retelling novella if you sign up for my newsletter here.
I hope you enjoy this sneak peek!
Chapter 1
The spinning wheel in the corner of the room stole Aurelia’s nights without fail and without interruption.
There was no good reason for this night to be any different, but, from the way her skin prickled, something different was in the air.
Something was coming.
Thunder echoed in the distance, drowning out the steady beat of rain on the thin roof.
The wheel spun as her foot pumped the treadle. Her fingers worked quickly as the fibers twisted into yarn and wound around the bobbin.
What was making her skin hum?
She fought to ignore it. People talked about how animals could sense approaching storms. Thinking about it like that helped her keep her sanity.
Her candle sputtered and flickered. A yawn pulled her jaw open, and her eyes fluttered shut every few minutes before she jerked back to attention. There was too much wool to spin before morning for her to give into her exhaustion.
The rain outside blocked any moonlight that might have slipped through the small windows. Her candle would have to last, and her instincts would have to leave her be.
When she asked about her instincts as a child, her father told her she was making it up.
Maybe she was.
They always came in small bursts. She probably wasn’t actually feeling anything. It was all the time sitting at the wheel, she reasoned. The mindless repetition caused her to imagine things that weren’t there.
Nothing was coming.
The bobbin spun faster as her fingers worked to pick up the pace. Spinning yarn was thoughtless. She’d been doing it for so long her hands went through the motions. Her eyes focused on the wheel as it spun and spun. The spindles blurred, and her eyes burned.
“Aurelia…”
Her hands dropped the wool as she leaped to her feet. The distant hum under her skin grew louder while her heart raced. The rain continued to slam into the roof, but it might as well have been miles away since all she could hear was the humming under her skin.
She glanced around for her father. She was alone.
Then she heard it. Someone was knocking at the door.
Had someone said her name? She must have imagined it.
Still, her feet moved forward, and she opened the door. She wasn’t sure what she expected from someone who knocked at such an hour, but it wasn’t a young man. He was hunched over slightly and wrapped up in a black cloak with embroidered edges.
“Um, hello, how may I help you?” Aurelia asked, clearing her throat.
“I’m so sorry to bother you at this time of night, but I’ve been walking in this rain for hours. This is Meldon’s mill, isn’t it?” He pulled his hood down, shivering in the rain. The candlelight inside the house didn’t reach his face, so she couldn’t make out any significant details in the darkness. All she could see was that his face was so clean shaven he was nearly porcelain in both color and texture.
If they were expecting someone, why would her father stay inside the mill working on repairs? Why hadn’t he told her?
Aurelia stepped back and gestured for him to come inside. “Um, just give me a moment, but please step out of the rain. You’ll get sick standing out there too long.”
“Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.” He inclined his head.
The light from the candles illuminated him as he stepped inside. His shoulder brushed against hers, and Aurelia recoiled, backing away from him as he dripped water all over the wooden floor.
Now that she could see him, she wasn’t sure what to make of him. He was by no means a tall man. He was only a hair taller than her, if at all. His dark gray eyes held a strange glint in them that made Aurelia keep her feet light on the ground, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Despite the fact his hair was wet, it shone a deep, vibrant red that she’d never seen before.
No one in Astren had hair that red, but then again Aurelia hadn’t seen anyone with hair that was as golden as hers either.
A hundred questions threatened to spill out of her, but she could not settle on one.
Who was he? Why was he walking in the rain for hours? How did her father know him? He couldn’t be much older than Aurelia. How did he know where they lived? Where was he coming from? What was he doing out at such a late hour?
“Is Meldon here? If not, I can come back later,” he said as he glanced around the room with a sharp, calculating look.
Judging from the quality fabric and detailed embroidery, Aurelia wouldn’t be surprised if his cloak was worth more than everything in the house combined.
It was a modest living space, just enough room to cook, eat, spin, sleep, and repeat. The furniture was small and shabby, and all of it older than Aurelia. She wasn’t ashamed of being poor, but when someone who was so obviously wealthy stood in her home, she couldn’t help but wish it wasn’t in such disrepair. Taxes increased every year, and every year something in the mill or their house broke. All Aurelia and her father could do was tighten their belts a little further like everyone else in Astren.
The red-haired man blinked at her, and Aurelia realized she’d been staring at him the whole time.
She gave him a tight smile and said, “I’ll go get him.”
Aurelia hurried to the door connecting her home to the mill, trying to figure out why she froze up in front of the red-haired man.
Her father did not have the good fortune to be the king’s official miller, so their mill was small. But they got by. She pushed open the door and entered the mill.
Her father knelt by the quern-stone, and his brow was furrowed, highlighting the deep wrinkles on his forehead. His graying brown hair was mussed, and his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows.
She cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here, looking for you.”
Her father pushed himself up from the floor with a frown. “At this time in the evening?”
Aurelia only shrugged. It was all strange to her. Her father breezed past her and back into their small home.
The man had remained near the front door, clasping his hands behind him and admiring Aurelia’s spinning wheel from a distance. His head turned lazily as her father entered the room with Aurelia behind him.
Her father paused halfway across the room. Aurelia pushed herself onto her toes to peer around him as her father asked, “You seem familiar, have we met before?”
The man’s eyes flickered, and he grinned. “I don’t believe so, but we had a mutual acquaintance. I’m sure you remember Gothel?”
Who was Gothel? Aurelia tried to step around her father to get a better look at the man, but her father grabbed Aurelia’s wrist before she could move any closer.
His grip tightened. “Get out.”
“I am no friend of Gothel’s.” The red-haired man raised his hands and stepped closer. “In fact, I might have some information about her that would be of use to you.”
“Aurelia, go upstairs and stay there.” Her father pushed her towards the stairs, keeping one eye on the man at the same time. His hands shook, and sweat broke out on his brow.
“What? No!” She twisted, looking back while she struggled to fight his grip. “I want to know what’s going on!”
Curiosity burned through her blood. In all her life, she’d never seen her father so frightened. Protective and worried, of course, but never terrified. How could such a short, seemingly harmless man cause this reaction just by saying a name?
“Aurelia, now is not the time!” Her father pushed her up the stairs despite her efforts. The red-haired man chuckled as she stumbled backwards up the steps. At least someone was enjoying this.
“Just, please, do as I say,” her father said as she stumbled into her dark bedroom.
Aurelia reluctantly stepped back as the door shut. She heard something click, and when she tried the knob it didn’t turn. He’d locked the door. What was going on?
Aurelia had always known her father to be… Cautious of strangers was the nice way of putting it, but the more honest phrase would be paranoid. He maintained a tense distance between them and the world. She didn’t understand it as a child, and she still didn’t. She just lived with it.
There were people in town that she recognized, but she didn’t know them. There was only one person other than her father that she had in her life, Sandor. She was lucky Sandor was persistent enough to win over her father.
She assumed her father’s paranoia had to do with her mother’s death. When she was much younger, people used to tell her how much she looked like her mother, but every single time that happened, her father made sure Aurelia never spoke to them again. She’d spent years asking about it, but her father never told her why.
If it wasn’t about her mother, it had to be about magic. That was the only other thing that came to mind. All forms of magic had been outlawed in Astren for the last twenty years. Nothing good ever came of it, and getting caught was a death sentence. Her father impressed upon her how dangerous magic was; it was one of the few rules she understood.
How likely was it that this Gothel woman had something to do with her mother? Or, that Gothel used magic, making her dangerous? Why else would her father have locked her upstairs?
Thankfully, it was a small house with thin walls, which was terrible for winter but perfect for eavesdropping.
She dropped to the rough, wooden floor and pressed one side of her head to the crack between the door and the floorboards. The rain drumming on the roof made her task more difficult than she hoped. She strained her ears, but their voices were too low for her to pick up more than every other word.
“—been sixteen years,” her father said.
Someone walked around the room, but he wasn’t pacing. The walk was slow. As he drifted closer, she picked up the end of his sentence.
“—want to know. Might help you sleep better at night,” The red-haired man said. Even his voice sent a faint hum rushing under her skin. Why hadn’t he said his name when she let him in?
Her father said something, but Aurelia couldn’t catch it. She assumed the red-haired man was closer to her than her father was, maybe even directly below her. If they weren’t going to bother moving close enough for her to hear, she was putting a crick in her neck for nothing. Despite that fact, she stayed where she was.
The red-haired man said, “I took care of it, and that’s all you need to know. She won’t bother your family ever again.”
Aurelia clenched her hands against the floor. Would it kill them to speak plainly? Aurelia assumed the “she” was Gothel, which only brought a few hundred more questions to mind.
Who was Gothel? How did her father know her? What did he mean “bother” her family?
“—tell me?” Meldon asked.
“I have business in Lathe. You just happened to be in the same area; I figured it would be the right thing to do.”
Their voices faded out again. Aurelia sat back, giving her neck a moment’s rest. Part of her wished she hadn’t bothered since she didn’t get any real information from the conversation. Gothel, whoever that was, clearly had some kind of history with her family but what and why was it coming up now?
The stairs creaked, and Aurelia shot up, leaning against the wall and examining her short, chipped nails. Aurelia feigned a disinterested look as her father opened the door, holding a candle. If she looked too interested, her father would probably keep her in her room until the red-haired man was gone. She wasn’t going to blow her chance to speak with such a strange man.
“You can come back downstairs.” Her father’s voice was worn out and haggard as though he’d run for miles.
“If you insist,” Aurelia said, burying the smile twitching at her lips. She brushed past her father, trying to find a balance between not looking like she was in a hurry and darting down the stairs.
When she reached the first floor, she peered through the dim candlelight and settled her gaze on the red-haired man. “Are you going to be staying then?”
His eyes flickered to her father coming down the stairs behind her. The red-haired man said, “Just for the night.”
If she was going to get any answers, nonchalance was her best bet. Aurelia took her place at her spinning wheel, shifting her simple, faded brown skirts to a comfortable position. She picked up her wool as the red-haired man watched. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name earlier.”
“I’m afraid I can’t give it.” He folded his cloak over his arms as he walked up behind her. Despite the fact he was still soaking wet, he didn’t seem to be bothered by it or by anything at all.
The look on her father’s face silenced any follow-up questions she had. It wasn’t smart to push her luck, even though she wanted to. There was spinning to finish, and if she didn’t at least look busy, her father would get suspicious. As she worked, she sensed the red-haired man approaching like an itch under her skin. His gaze made her skin crawl, and she couldn’t decide if he disturbed her or fascinated her.
“You’re very talented,” he said. Even though he did not lower his voice, there was a soft edge to it.
She looked over her shoulder, but her hands didn’t slow. He stared at her; the buzzing under her skin returned like a distant fly in the room.
“Aurelia has a natural talent for it,” her father cut in. “Her yarn and thread ought to be sold to the king’s weavers, truly it’s of such a high quality.”
“I hardly think spinning yarn is a talent,” Aurelia said. Her fingers continued to move. She couldn’t look away from the red-haired man even if she wanted to.
“You’d be surprised at how valuable of a skill it can be.” The red-haired man walked over to the wall and leaned against it, facing her, so she could see him and the wheel. The buzzing under her skin grew louder, and her breath shallowed. Was he just being polite?
“She practically spins gold, she’s so good at it,” Meldon said. Pride filled his voice, but she imagined his purpose was to ensure the conversation wasn’t just between the stranger and herself.
“My father is exaggerating. My work is enough to get by, that’s all.” Aurelia sent her father a glare. She didn’t want to talk about herself; the red-haired man was a better subject. She turned her head back and asked, “If I can’t have your name, can I at least ask what brings you to Lathe?”
“You can ask me anything you like.” The red-haired man grinned. “But, that doesn’t mean I’ll give you any answers.”
She rolled her eyes. What was the point of having a mysterious young man show up if he wasn’t going to satisfy her curiosity?
“It’s getting late, Aurelia. You should wrap up.” Her father started snuffing out the candles. The scent of smoke filtered around the room. “We’ll leave early in the morning and escort our guest into town to send him on his way.”
Aurelia reluctantly finished up since she wasn’t getting answers anyway.
The red-haired man watched her movements; he made no attempt to hide it. She couldn’t blame her father for not wanting her around this man.
He was a mystery. There was an air around him, something in him that Aurelia couldn’t let go of. The strange instincts she had under her skin… He set them off more times that night than the rest of her life combined. She couldn’t put it into words or describe it. Who was this man?
Thank you so much for reading, and I’ll see you next time!