Page 27 of A Winter Courtship
“What have you got to be smiling about, boy?”
Ulrich’s smile dropped at the sound of his father’s voice. Tension rose in his body. He spared his father a glance. Ulrich placed the metal in the forge, pumping the bellows to reheat it.
Had Helor spoken to his father?
It had been days since Lutoth and he had been in the store to eat. Since that night, his father hadn’t turned up berating him, so he’d hoped he was in the clear.
But what if Ulrich wasn’t? What if his father had been dwelling on it, preparing the exact words he wanted to spit out at Ulrich?
Ulrich’s hand tightened on the wooden handle, pumping faster.
“What you making?” His father shuffled towards him, cane stamping on the floor. He peered into the flames.
Did that mean his father didn’t know? Did that mean Ulrich had more time?
“Hoops for Odara’s grandchildren,” Ulrich said when he could finally speak. “They’re to be Solstice presents for the younglings.”
“She spoils those kids,” his father said. “Always giving them toys and cookies. Coddles them. Makes them soft. A waste of your time, making toys when you could be making something useful. I didn’t give you any fancy toys, and you turned out fine.”
Ulrich removed the glowing metal from the forge and held it to the anvil horn. Ulrich loved seeing the children smiling on Solstice. Particularly if they smiled because they were playing with the toys he’d made.
But of course, Ulrich didn’t say that. Too timid and too cowardly to speak his mind.
“Got some bread from the bakery this morning,” his father said. “Think that city boy baked it. Not as good as it used to be. Sometimes it feels like our town is being invaded by city folk!”
He tried to ignore his father’s words.
“And nymphs.”
Ulrich hammered the metal, curving it.
“They seem to be everywhere in the village these days.”
Nymphs helped build Ores! Why do you choose to forget that? There would be no Ores without the oreads!”
But the words died in Ulrich’s throat. Just the idea of confronting his father made his palms sweat and his stomach turn until he thought he might vomit.
His father shook his head. “Such a pity that so few of the old families remain.”
Ulrich wanted to laugh at his father’s absurdity. He couldn’t count the number of times his father had called someone from one of the old families soft. Then said they’d probably be better off leaving for Bordertown.
“Well, I better get going. It’s getting late.”
Ulrich knew he should confront his father. Tell him about Lutoth. Tell him how much he cared for Lutoth and how happy he was with him. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
His father walked towards the door and left.
I should have said something! Why didn’t I say anything?
But he knew why. Despite everything, the man was still his father. He’d raised Ulrich and cared for him after his mother died. And even as his father aged and became less strong and more frail, the man still loomed over Ulrich in his mind.
Growing up, his older brother had always been the one to argue with their father. One reason he’d admired Elias and wished he’d stayed in Ores.
At least his father preferred to keep to himself these days. He probably wouldn’t come to the smithy for a week or two now.
Guilt ate at Ulrich. It felt worse now not standing up to his father. Because every time he didn’t speak, he felt like he was letting Lutoth down. Because he knew he’d need to tell his father about them. He needed to defend their relationship. And Lutoth.
Ulrich looked out the window. Soon it’d be dark. He wondered when Lutoth would return. Sometimes Lutoth sat with him in the smithy whilst Ulrich worked. But most of the time, Lutoth visited his father in the valley during the days. Or prepared Ulrich’s Solstice gifts.
