Power Born (Maid of Iron Book 1) by Aya Ling

Author:Aya Ling [Ling, Aya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chiara walked as fast as she could, as if the quicker she moved, the sooner her frustration would go away. She was vexed at her reckless behavior, but also annoyed that Leon had to show up at the same time. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t have clapped his mouth in desperation. If it weren’t for him, Lucinda might have accepted her apology, and she would be in the Morelli kitchen at this moment.

This was the second time she had come close to being found out—thanks to Leon. What could she do to stop him from blabbing her secret? He seemed to regard her as a joke, as his source of entertainment. Her fingers curled into fists. She couldn’t threaten him. Nor could she bribe him. With his privileged position, she had nothing to offer.

Chiara scrubbed a hand over her forehead. Perhaps she’d better put off going to the castle and the Morelli House for now. She’d stay home as much as possible. The less she went out, the less chance she’d run into Leon.

But what if he came to the bakery? It wouldn’t be hard to find where she lived.

Let him come. He’d have to squeeze through Cristian’s horde of rabid customers first.

“Chiarina!”

Oh no. Not Vanni. Anyone but that slimy mama’s boy.

Chiara swung around. “Get out of my way,” she hissed.

He wrinkled his brow. She had generally tried to avoid him, or responded to his harassing with evasive words, but this was the first time she confronted him with fury glowing in her eyes.

“What’s the matter with you, Chiarina? Bad day? C’mon, why don’t you let me make you feel better…”

“Get. Lost.”

Chiara ran. It was either that or punch him into a wall. And after her two encounters with the bandits, when she found that letting go of her self-inflicted restrictions was actually a relief, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could tolerate Vanni without exploding.

A commotion in the street made her halt. A few dozen people were gathered around, pointing, whispering, shrugging, wiggling their eyebrows…the full repertoire of Masaro gestures on display.

“You’re A DISGRACE!”

Mick’s voice, loud and clear and belligerent.

Was Sofia in trouble?

Chiara dashed to the crowd and tried to squeeze through without applying her true strength.

Sitting on the cobblestones was Sofia, a hand pressed to her cheek, her spectacles lying on her apron. Her hair, always pinned tightly in braids, was loosened. Strands of auburn hair curled on her shoulders, which were trembling. When she lowered her hand, the women in the crowd—Chiara included—gasped. A scarlet hand print, as clear as if it were painted with crimson oil paint, stretched from the bottom of her eye to her chin.

“WENCH!” Mick continued to bellow. His face was beet red and spittle flew from his mouth. “How DARE you even think about leaving?”

Sofia bit her lip and looked at the ground.

“When your father asks you a question, you answer! Still mute, eh? You’ll taste my fist and see if that won’ knock a response from you!”

Raising his fist, Mick prepared to deal a second blow.

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