Chapter 1
***
In the fiefdom, Lover’s Day was celebrated in the old-fashioned way. None of that running through the streets or shouting, “Hooray! Hooray! Time to fall in love today!” or worse, as some girls whispered about after sneaking beyond the Wall.
“Can you believe it? On that market square, anyone can just walk up and kiss you on Lover’s Day! Literally any guy!” Yuliana shared, her eyes wide with excitement. She’d gone to the big sale last year on this very day. True, she hadn’t found a suitor, and no one had paid her much attention either. But that was just her first year! This time, she’d prepared thoroughly and was determined to either snag a beau or be chosen first herself. And if someone picked her first—well, even better!
Of course, it wasn’t really a purchase in the literal sense. Just a symbolic token. But oh, how coveted and cherished that token was!
Yuliana’s eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed with anticipation, and she looked absolutely radiant in that moment.
Marisol snorted.
“That’s exactly why I train in combat—so I can sock any creep who tries to get fresh with me on Lover’s Day! No way! I’m not letting some random guy paw at me or slobber all over me. For all I know, he hasn’t brushed his teeth or he’s been munching on garlic!”
“Oh, Marisol, you’re hopeless when it comes to romance. How can you be like this? I even brought you those books about love. Didn’t you read them?”
“Ugh! They’re all so boring! ‘He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. A fire of passion burned within them. His hands slid down her waist and lower, her body trembled, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach,’” Marisol recited with mock drama. “Yuck! Gross! I can’t even read that stuff! Take them back before my mom sees them,” she grumbled.
Just then, Marisol’s mother, the esteemed Lady Gerundia, approached the girls. She cast a warm glance at them and asked, “So, Yuliana, are you heading beyond the Wall again this year?” Receiving an eager nod from the girl, she turned to her daughter. “And we’re going too! Marisol gave her word!”
“Mom, you know I don’t want to, but you could convince anyone of anything. Just this year, though! I’m not going next time!” Marisol snapped, adjusting the cloak slipping off her shoulders.
She was dressed in a long cape that nearly dragged on the ground, a magical staff at her side, her fiery red hair tied into a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She looked more like a young mage in training at the Magical Academy than a marriageable maiden, as her mother saw her. Marisol had come of age three years ago, yet not a single young man had shown her any favor, a fact that quietly worried the dignified matron. After all, by Marisol’s age, most girls in the fiefdom were already wed.
Still, Lady Gerundia held fast to the teachings of Saint Valentine, deeply revered in the fiefdom, who decreed that marriage without love was not only impossible but forbidden. So she waited patiently for her daughter to find true love—a man who would truly value and cherish Marisol. Just as it had happened for Lady Gerundia herself, when her future husband “bought” her on Lover’s Day. She hadn’t managed to choose him first, though she’d wanted to. But it didn’t matter who made the first move; what mattered was that the magic of love had bound them together. They’d been blissfully married for over twenty years now.
The matron longed for the same happiness for her daughter. True happiness. True love. But three years had passed since Marisol came of age, and this was the third Lover’s Day, yet she still hadn’t ventured to the city for the celebration where hopeful hearts sought their matches.
Beyond the Wall, in a specially enchanted square brimming with magical energy on this day, future couples met. Right there, if they wished, betrothal ceremonies were held, marriage contracts discussed, and young people left the square paired off, ready to build their little nests together.
And yet, Marisol had hidden, run off, and refused to go to the festival three times! She insisted she didn’t need it. Stubborn girl. Just like her father!
But this time, her mother had extracted an honest promise that Marisol would join her. Everyone knew Marisol never broke her word once given, so Lady Gerundia felt at ease.
“We’re setting off bright and early tomorrow. What about you?” she asked Yuliana.
“Us too, early in the morning. Maybe we’ll cross paths on the way. If not, we’ll see you there at the enchanted market!” Yuliana replied with a smile.
Marisol made a face, then winked at Yuliana and hurried after her mother toward home.
“If I hadn’t given my word, I’d skip it again,” she told her mother. “And if you hadn’t promised to buy me that dagger from Master Stefan, I wouldn’t be going at all!”
“Oh, my dear,” her mother sighed, “all you think about are daggers and fistfights. What you need is to get married!”
“Not at all,” Marisol retorted. “I don’t want to get married. I want to keep studying and training in combat. I love it. And later, I’ll join the royal guard. I hear they’re forming a women’s unit, and I’ll be among the first from our town to serve.”
Her mother merely shook her head, saying nothing to dissuade her. She was convinced it was all nonsense. Marriage was what a girl needed, not royal service! But Lady Gerundia was a cunning woman. She nodded as if in agreement, all the while crafting her own plans and slowly putting them into motion. Look at that—she’d already convinced Marisol to go to Lover’s Day this year! And beyond that… oh yes, she had grand schemes. Carefully thought out. Even paid for in advance. After all, if a girl and a boy were magically paired at the market, there was no escaping it—that was fate! If you were “bought,” you had to comply. It was true love! Neither magic nor Saint Valentine would allow for deceit in such matters!
The next morning, a modest cart from their town carried several families beyond the Wall. Everyone brought goods to sell, along with daughters and sons of marriageable age.
On Lover’s Day, young folks flocked to the market—a special place where they could meet and choose a partner...
And to make the choosing easier, kissing was allowed as much as anyone pleased, with whomever they pleased. Oh, the lads had a field day, and the girls enjoyed it just as much. What a shame Lover’s Day came only once a year, the only time such open affection was permitted, right in front of everyone. Even a mother wouldn’t scold; she’d encourage it, cheer you on for kissing a fine young man, wave her hand, point with a finger, and urge you to “buy” that dark-haired fellow over there!
And if you “bought” someone you liked, or were “bought” yourself, you exchanged special bracelets brought from home. Weddings often followed within the next month.
Beyond the Wall lay a world unlike anything Marisol had ever seen. A vast, endless city seemed to stretch across the entire land. Those who lived before the Wall knew the city had no end; traveling through it took ages, or so the stories went.
Legend had it the city was built thousands and thousands of years ago, expanding and rebuilding over time until it covered the entire kingdom. Of course, that was likely just a tale—the city must have an edge somewhere, but it was far, far away. Its inhabited parts gave way to ruins and abandoned slums, then new buildings rose again, only to fall into decay once more. On and on the city sprawled, all the way to the ocean. And reaching the ocean, mind you, took a full week if you went around the Wall, as everyone in the kingdom knew.
As they entered the sprawling market grounds, Marisol’s curiosity piqued. She began observing the people, creatures, morphs, florals, and countless other beings that populated their kingdom.
And there it was—the grand, magic-infused square where suitors and brides were “sold.” Only participants in this grand event were allowed entry. Ever-cautious, Lady Gerundia grabbed Marisol by the hand and said, “I know you. You’ll slip away and break your word, then claim you were there but didn’t choose anyone, and no one chose you. So we’re going in now, and I’ll make sure you step onto that market square…” She tugged her daughter toward the entrance...
***
The square was magically enclosed; once inside, you couldn’t return to the general market until the “buying and selling” of betrotheds was over. And the celebration lasted until evening. Small tables dotted the square, along with cozy cafés where one could sit and chat with a potential match. Off to one side stood a stage where bards sang love ballads. Nearby were souvenir stalls, counters brimming with trinkets, weapons, clothing, shoes, and household goods…
Marisol trudged behind her mother, irritably trying to yank her hand free. But Lady Gerundia held on tight.
“Even if someone picks me, I’m not going with them,” Marisol thought. “I don’t want to get married!”
“But what if I see someone? Someone I actually like?” The thought caught her off guard and, frankly, unsettled her.
“What’s wrong with me?” she wondered. “No one’s going to catch my eye. I’ve just been listening to too much of Yuliana’s boy-crazy chatter, and now my mind’s wandering in the wrong direction.” She shook herself mentally and stepped over the magical threshold separating the general market from the betrothal square. Her mother remained outside, while Marisol could no longer leave the enchanted area.
An attendant drew a magical symbol on the back of Marisol’s hand, handed her a simple bracelet to give to her chosen match if she “bought” one, and just like that, she was officially a bride for the day.
“I wish Yuliana would hurry up and get here,” Marisol thought. Truth be told, wandering around with her friend, laughing, taking in the sights, and poking fun at the suitors and brides would be far more enjoyable. Everyone was dressed in their festive best, eager to impress. Marisol, though, had worn a dress at her mother’s insistence—but a modest one, without any unnecessary plunging necklines or bare shoulders. Even so, she felt out of place in it. She was used to wearing trousers all the time.
She walked a little farther but stayed close enough to keep an eye on the entrance, not wanting to miss Yuliana’s arrival. Her gaze landed on a tall, greenish troll stomping across the square—also a suitor, apparently—and she suddenly tripped over a cobblestone. She would have fallen flat if a strong hand hadn’t caught her from behind.
Spinning around, Marisol recoiled in horror. Standing before her was a metamorph*—terrifying, with sharp fangs. One of those who could tear out a throat in an instant or chase you down in two bounds. A zoomorph. His yellow eyes, with narrow vertical pupils, seemed to hypnotize her. He steadied her by the arm to keep her from falling. Marisol jerked her elbow away and took a step back. The metamorph must have noticed the fear in her eyes because he flashed a wide grin and raised his hands in a gesture of peace.
“I just caught you, miss. No need to be afraid,” he said, his tone friendly.
But that only made Marisol more uneasy. She wished he hadn’t smiled—his long, yellow fangs were even more alarming. His grayish face bore a predatory expression, though his hair was neatly combed, and his clothes, while simple, were clean. Patches and mends were visible where needed. His boots were old and worn but generously polished with tar, giving them a somewhat decent appearance.
“I’m not afraid,” Marisol muttered, annoyed at herself for showing fear. She started to walk away, but just then, a handsome, richly dressed young man shoved the metamorph aside and fixed his gaze on Marisol. Loudly, he declared, “Ah, Kresh, I see you’ve already found me a bride. So, sweetheart, how about a kiss? Maybe we’re destined for each other!”
Marisol opened her mouth to protest, but the cocky stranger had already pulled her into an embrace and pressed his lips to hers.
It lasted only a split second. Marisol hadn’t trained in combat for nothing. She twisted free, grabbed the insolent fool by the arm, and with a well-practiced move, slammed him onto the cobblestones with a resounding thud.
Heads turned as people craned to see what had happened. The metamorph, who had been pushed aside and stood silently nearby, rushed to the groaning young man, who was cursing as he struggled to get up. The metamorph helped him to his feet.
“You little wretch, I’ll remember this! Kresh, teach her a lesson!” the battered pretty boy barked, pointing at Marisol. “You’re my servant and bodyguard. Protect me!”
The metamorph glanced at Marisol, who stood with her hands on her hips, seemingly mocking the opponent she’d just thrown to the ground. She didn’t hold back her words either.
“And who do you think you are, kissing me without permission? I don’t need a suitor like you! Try that again, and you’ll get another beating! Look at you—can’t even handle a girl on your own? Pathetic! Sending your servant to fight your battles? What a joke! Don’t come near me again, or you’ll regret it! I mean it!” She shook a small fist at him, then turned on her heel and strode off. After a couple of steps, she glanced back and added, “And your metamorph is a total freak. He couldn’t teach me a lesson even if he tried—I’m stronger than him!”
She patted the magical staff at her side, well aware that metamorphs couldn’t stand magic. A little enchanted influence, and they’d be weak and helpless.
“Just you wait, beauty. I’ll teach you a lesson yet! You’ll be begging me for a kiss before long!” the pretty boy shouted after her, but Marisol wasn’t listening. She kept walking.
She wandered among the stalls, browsing the wares. Weapons and armor for the men, jewelry, dresses, scarves, and necklaces for the women… But none of the girly stuff interested Marisol. She headed to where they sold weapons for the lads. And it wasn’t for nothing that she was drawn there! Her eyes caught an unassuming dagger on a counter, overlooked by others. But having read plenty about edged weapons, she knew instantly that this dagger was worth having. It was even better than the one her mother had promised to buy from Master Stefan!
The vendor, noticing her interest, asked, “Looking for something? A dagger for a suitor or a husband?”
“For myself,” Marisol replied, picking up the blade and examining it from every angle.
“The balance is a bit off,” a voice remarked behind her. She turned and saw the metamorph again—the servant of that arrogant pretty boy.
“As if you’d know anything about it, freak,” she shot back, returning her attention to the weapon.
“Well, I used to work as an assistant to a weaponsmith,” the man replied from behind her.
Marisol huffed, twirled the dagger in her fingers, and tested it. The balance was indeed slightly off. With a sigh, she placed it back on the counter.
“No, I can’t afford it. I don’t have the money. But it’s a fine dagger all the same,” she said.
“The best daggers come from the Haritud family. There are only two for sale at our armory shop. I’ve had my eye on them for a while,” the metamorph continued, keeping the conversation going.
“And where’s ‘your’ shop?” Marisol asked, intrigued. She knew the daggers crafted by the renowned Haritud masters were both expensive and highly prized.
“In our part of the Ancient City,” the metamorph replied, “the section owned by my master, Arred Simples.”
“That jerk you serve?” Marisol sneered.
“He’s not so bad, really. Just used to getting whatever he wants right away. You sure gave him a good wallop, though!” The metamorph grinned again.
Marisol took a step back, unnerved by his frightening smile—those yellow, sharp fangs protruding. Noticing her unease, the metamorph quickly closed his mouth, though the tips of his fangs still peeked out from under his upper lip.
“Oh, I forgot I shouldn’t smile. People get scared of it,” he said, lowering his head.
“Go ahead and smile if you’re in a good mood,” Marisol shrugged. “We just don’t have metamorphs where I’m from. I’ve only seen two in my whole life, back when I came here beyond the Wall with my mom as a kid. I’m not from the city,” she explained.
“As for your Arred, if he tries anything again, I’ll knock him flat once more!”
“Better not mess with him. He’s the vindictive type,” the metamorph warned. “By the way, I’m Kresh. And you are?”
“I’m Marisol,” she said, extending her hand in greeting and placing her fingers into his broad, rough palm.
This time, she wasn’t afraid. The man seemed pleasant enough to talk to. And he wasn’t attacking her. If anything happened, she had her magical staff. She could defend herself.
“Nice to meet you, Marisol. I’m surprised you’re even talking to me. People don’t usually like metamorphs or chat with us, unless they’re hiring us as servants. Like me—I’m a bodyguard and servant to Arred Simples.”
“I feel for you,” Marisol said sincerely. “Anyway, I’d better get going.”
“Just so you know, my master sent me to keep an eye on you. So, be aware I’ll be nearby, watching,” Kresh admitted suddenly. Then he released her hand from his massive grip and disappeared into the crowd.
Marisol watched him go, lost in thought, before turning her attention back to the square. She occasionally glanced toward the entrance, puzzled that Yuliana still hadn’t arrived.
About half an hour later, everyone was called to a large podium where the officiant began reading the rules for the betrothal “buying and selling” ceremony. Everyone already knew the rules by heart, but such was the tradition of Lover’s Day: the teachings of Saint Valentine had to be recited once more for all to hear on this special day…
____________
*Metamorph — from metamorphosis. A transformation or transition from one stage or form to another, accompanied by the acquisition of new functions or a different appearance. Metamorphs in the Ancient City come in various types. The one Marisol encountered bears all the traits of an animal transformation: fangs, claws, vertical pupils, and predatory characteristics.
***
“…And whoever steps onto this ground shall be deemed a person or being of our world seeking a match. If the magical circle ensnares you by surprise and a payment is made, then you shall live together forever, for love has bound you! Love takes many forms, so even if you don’t fancy your chosen at first, in time, you will come to cherish them. And whoever tosses coins at their feet, accepted by the magical circle, shall find their lifelong happiness!” the officiant concluded, reciting the teachings and rules of Saint Valentine.
But no one was really listening; everyone already knew the rules by heart. The magical red circles could appear anywhere, crafted by powerful mages in service to Saint Valentine using a special kind of love magic.
These circles roamed the square unpredictably, popping up out of nowhere to envelop a person or creature who might become a suitor or bride. If someone caught in a circle happened to be standing with the partner they wished to unite with, both (or just one) would toss coins at their feet. The money would vanish instantly, and the pair would be considered betrothed. Magically, their bracelets would then be exchanged.
Marisol made a point to steer clear of these circles as they began appearing across the square. The crowd of hopeful brides and grooms rushed about, chasing the circles, laughing, waving their arms playfully, chatting, and jumping into them. Couples tossed coins at their feet, and bracelets swapped automatically. And so, the celebration of Lover’s Day began. With so many people on the square, this process often lasted until evening.
Marisol decided to find a hiding spot to avoid—heaven forbid—getting caught in one of those circles and having someone latch onto her. She still hadn’t spotted her friend Yuliana, which meant either she hadn’t arrived or was somewhere in the crowd, kissing random young men.
The circles appeared and disappeared at random, staining the cobblestones red with their glow. Coins clinked against the stone as lovers threw them down, vanishing into the magical weaves that entwined the happy pairs.
Marisol found a chair at a café table tucked behind a large pillar, out of sight. She ordered a coffee, sipped it slowly, and watched as people and creatures kissed openly.
“Strange,” she thought. “Do they really want to be together that badly? Love? I wonder what kind of feeling that is.” Then she angrily pushed the silly notion out of her mind. Love? What nonsense! The thing she loved most in the world was fighting and cold steel. That was real love! All this other stuff was trivial!
“Ugh, if only I had some money, I’d buy that dagger for myself,” she began to daydream about what she truly cherished. “Too bad I didn’t ask Mom for any. I spent all my earnings on a decent magical staff. But if I had some now, I’d be showing off with a shiny new blade…” she mused.
Just then, a shadow fell over her. She looked up and saw the familiar metamorph again. Kresh, was it? As usual, he smiled, sending a shiver down her spine, then sat down beside her and asked, “Why aren’t you out there looking for a suitor?”
“A suitor? I don’t want to get married,” she replied. “But I do want that dagger, though I don’t have the money for it,” she blurted out for some reason.
Kresh gave her a thoughtful look.
“You know, I could lend you some money. I’ve got a bit saved. You can pay me back someday,” he offered unexpectedly.
“Someday? When exactly?” she asked. “You live far away, deep in the Ancient City. I’m from beyond the Wall. Will we even cross paths again?”
Kresh smiled. He didn’t seem quite as frightening to her anymore, even somewhat intriguing in a way, though his fangs still unnerved her when he grinned.
“Just tell me how to find you, and I’ll come myself!” he said. “Say, in a year’s time.”
“You know what? Give me the money. I’ll go buy that dagger right now. I’ll definitely pay you back in a year!” Marisol jumped to her feet, snatched the small pouch of coins from the metamorph, and dashed to the stall.
The dagger was still there; no one had bought it. She was over the moon when she purchased it, so thrilled that she wanted to bolt straight for the exit of the square. That was it—she’d gotten what she came for today, her dream blade.
“Hey, miss!” the vendor called after her. “Take your change!” He pressed a few coins into her hand, and she hurried toward the exit. Maybe, just maybe, they’d let her out if she begged hard enough. She didn’t want to get married; she wanted to train and become a master knife-thrower!
As she pushed through the crowd, she suddenly felt someone grab her by the shoulders, pull her close, and shout, “There you are! Gotcha! And look, a magical circle! You’ll be my bride, my wife, and I’ll teach you a lesson!” She recognized the loathsome voice from earlier that morning. It was that pretty boy she’d knocked flat. “A wife must obey her husband!” he yelled right in the face of a stunned Marisol, clutching a large gold coin in his hand.
She was completely caught off guard; it all happened so fast! Horrified, she glanced down where Arred was pointing, at their feet, and saw that they were both standing inside a red circle of love.
“Now it’s settled,” he declared, releasing the coin from his fingers. It began to fall toward the cobblestones.
“Oh, no!” Marisol screamed.
If the coin touched the ground, they’d be bound together forever. With this despicable pretty boy?! In a flash, she swung her leg and kicked the coin out of the circle like a ball. Then, with all her might, she swung her fist and punched the creep square in the face. He flew backward, landing outside the magical circle. The change she’d just received from the vendor spilled from her hand.
“Oh, no!” Marisol cried again, clutching her head as she realized a few of the coins were falling at her feet, right onto the red magical circle of love that forever binds couples.
Because she saw she wasn’t alone in the circle! Standing beside her was the pretty boy’s servant, her new acquaintance, the metamorph Kresh!
The magic eagerly accepted the payment for love. The coins vanished, and in their place, red sparks enveloped them both, swirling around. The magic tore the bracelets from the stunned pair’s wrists and swapped them, fastening Marisol’s bracelet onto Kresh’s hand and his onto her wrist.
She looked at him. He looked at her. Neither knew what to say. It had all happened in an instant. They were both struck speechless. Only one foolish thought pounded in Marisol’s head: “How did this happen? Is he a suitor too? But he’s just a servant!” And only then did it dawn on her that only those seeking a match could cross the threshold of the magical square. Only they could “buy” a bride or groom here. As she had just done. She’d bought herself a suitor. With her change...