Page 7 of Alien Charming

“I understand. It seems like I’m always busy these days as well. Father says he sees you at the market sometimes, but you’re always rushing off.” Bella frowned at the women by the fountain who were now watching both of them. “I swear some people have nothing to do but gossip.”

Shifting the basket to her other arm, she forced a smile. “Your father’s shop looks busy.”

“It is! I’m learning the trade now.” Bella leaned closer. “But I still find time to read those stories we used to love. Remember how we’d hide behind the schoolhouse and trade books?”

The memory warmed her from within. Those stolen moments of adventure and imagination had been precious escapes.

“I remember.”

“I have a new one you might enjoy.” Bella’s eyes sparkled. “I could bring it by sometime, if you’d like?”

Before she could respond, Mrs. Fletcher’s voice cut through the air. “Bella! Your delivery has arrived!”

Bella sighed. “I should go. But it was wonderful to see you, Elli. Truly.”

“You too,” she said, meaning it more than she could express.

With another quick squeeze of her hand, Bella hurried off, and Elli watched her retreating figure with a small pang of envy. Unlike her, Bella wore her outsider status like a badge of honor, grease-stained hands and all. The Fletcher workshop sat on the village outskirts, a ramshackle building perpetually surrounded by strange contraptions and mechanical parts that most villagers regarded with suspicion.

“Did you see her hands?” Mrs. Hendry whispered loudly to another woman as Bella disappeared into the fabric shop. “Black with engine oil, like a man’s. It’s not natural.”

The village had plenty of opinions about Bella and her father—how they tinkered with dangerous machines and how no proper young woman should be handling tools and engines. Bella had been the one to fix the miller’s grain processor when it had broken down before the last harvest, saving the village from potential starvation. She’d also managed to repair the broken pump at the well when no one else could figure it out. But still they talked.

Yet Bella walked through the village with her head high, ignoring the whispers. The difference was that Bella had her father’s unwavering support. Mr. Fletcher beamed with pride at his daughter’s mechanical aptitude, defending her choices fiercely against any who questioned them.

“My Bella’s got more brains in her little finger than most have in their entire skulls,” he’d proclaimed loudly at the harvest festival last year when someone had suggested she might be better suited to “women’s work.”

Bella had found purpose in her father’s workshop, a place where her intelligence and skills were valued. No wonder she could smile so easily, even as the village whispered behind her back.

She sighed and adjusted her basket again, the weight of the day’s purchases digging into her arm.What would it be like, she wondered,to have someone stand up for me that way?

The brief moment with Bella had lifted her spirits, but reality settled back onto her shoulders as she headed for home. Aunt Margaret would be waiting, ready to inspect each purchase and to criticize how long she’d taken.

She passed the edge of the square, where neat cobblestones gave way to the packed dirt road. The late morning sun warmed her back as she walked, a small comfort. Her thoughts drifted to Seren again—how different those warm golden eyes had been from the cold, judgmental stares of the villagers.

A shout of childish laughter pulled her from her reverie. Several village children played along the roadside, chasing one another with sticks fashioned as swords. She smiled at their antics but decided to give them a wide berth. Children were unpredictable, and she’d learned to be careful around them—their parents often pulled them away from “simple Elli” as if her condition might be catching.

“Look out!”

A small boy darted past her and collided with a display of pottery outside Mr. Tanner’s shop, causing a number of pots to fall, shattering on the ground. He gave a dismayed gasp as Mr. Tanner rushed out of the shop.

“Timothy! Get away from her!” A stout woman rushed forward, yanking the child back, and glared at her. “What did you do?”

“I—Nothing. He just ran into?—”

The woman’s face hardened. “Can’t you watch where you’re going? Look at this mess you’ve made!” She gestured at the shattered pottery. “Timothy could have been seriously hurt!”

Other villagers paused to stare, and she felt her cheeks burn, already knowing there was no point in trying to explain that it hadn’t been her fault. They’d been quick to blame her without knowing the facts, and now their expressions were a mixture of pity, contempt, and fear.

“Always causing trouble,” someone muttered. “Poor Margaret, dealing with that one.”

She sighed and knelt to begin gathering the broken shards, wishing she could disappear into the earth like the roots of one of her plants.

CHAPTER 4

Seren moved through the trees towards Elli’s garden, staying in the shadows. He shouldn’t be here. He had responsibilities—meetings to attend, treaties to negotiate, a pack to lead—yet here he was, unable to resist the thought of seeing her again.

Even though he knew she was rarely in the garden this early, his beast growled unhappily at the sight of the empty plot, the neat rows of herbs and the artful clusters of flowers silent under the morning sun. She wasn’t here yet. He fought back the impulse to shift and pace, to tear up the ground in frustration. He needed to calm down, to suppress these feelings. Instead, he settled into the shade of a large oak, watching and waiting.

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