The lock between blood and bone

chapter 15 The rumor

Aria woke with a dull ache in her shoulders. Yesterday’s trip to the market still clung to her body like stubborn dust—heavy, persistent, unyielding. Every movement reminded her that she had carried baskets far too heavy, maneuvered through narrow alleys, and obeyed Selda’s constant orders without pause. The ache was nothing new, but it weighed on her more than usual.

Selda had been unusually quiet since last night, and Aria knew better than to mistake silence for calm. It always meant something. Something she would have to endure.

By sunrise, the house smelled sharply of boiling roots and burnt sage. The smoke curled in slow, pale spirals toward the low ceiling. Mira lounged lazily near the doorway, trimming her nails with a small, sharp blade, the soft snip of the scissors oddly soothing in the tense air. Rae sat cross-legged on the floor, staring intently at her reflection in a cracked hand mirror, brushing a strand of hair back and frowning at the way it fell.

“Aria,” Selda called, her tone sharp enough to make the air vibrate.

Aria wiped her hands on her dress, careful to remove every trace of dirt, and stepped forward. Selda didn’t even lift her head from the mortar she was grinding, the rhythmic sound of pestle against bowl echoing in the room like a warning.

“Did you tell anyone about my herbs yesterday?” Selda asked without looking up.

“No, Aunt Selda,” Aria replied, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“You’re sure? Because someone came asking if the ‘green-eyed girl’ was selling remedies cheaper than others.”

Aria blinked. “I didn’t—”

Mira smirked, the gesture laced with teasing malice. “She probably smiled too much. People will think she’s desperate.”

“I didn’t smile,” Aria said quietly, her voice firm despite the fluttering in her chest.

Selda finally lifted her gaze. Her eyes, cold and assessing, landed on Aria. “Mm. Good. A healer doesn’t smile like an i***t in public.”

Aria lowered her gaze, feeling the familiar squeeze of helplessness in her chest. She didn’t have the strength—or courage—to argue.

A sudden knock at the door made the room freeze. Even Mira paused mid-breath.

“Who’s that?” Mira whispered.

Selda’s eyes narrowed, sharp and dangerous. She motioned toward Aria. “Go and check.”

Aria approached slowly, each step measured. She opened the door just a c***k and stepped back immediately. Standing there was the woman from yesterday—the kind, gentle face that had smiled at her when she handed over the herbs.

“Oh! You’re here,” the woman said, her voice warm and bright. “I wanted to thank you. My daughter slept peacefully for the first time in weeks. Please, take this.”

Before Aria could protest, the woman pressed a small pouch into her hand. Warm coins jingled inside, a sound that was almost musical. They were more than Aria had earned in two full days of market labor. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tried to return it.

“I—I can’t take—” Aria stammered.

“Nonsense,” the woman interrupted firmly, smiling with genuine warmth. “You’re gifted. Use it for yourself.”

Before Aria could say anything else, the woman walked away, her presence leaving behind a lingering sweetness, a faint scent of lavender and kindness. Aria closed the door slowly, her mind spinning. She turned, expecting Selda’s sharp gaze to pierce her, and it did.

“Give it to me,” Selda commanded, her voice low and dangerous.

Aria’s fingers clenched around the pouch for just a second longer—just enough to imagine buying soap, bread, maybe a small treat. But she forced herself to release it and stepped forward.

“Aria,” Selda said again, each word deliberate. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Aria placed the pouch in Selda’s palm. The coins jingled softly as they shifted, cold and real against Selda’s skin.

Selda counted them carefully, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded. “Good. You’ll go back to the market tomorrow. Clearly, you’re useful for something.”

Mira rolled her eyes, her tone sharp. “If people keep coming for her, they’ll forget who the real healer is in this house.”

Selda’s gaze cut toward Mira, sharp enough to silence the room. “They won’t. I’ll make sure.”

Aria turned away, hiding the disappointment that pressed against her chest. Even when her work was appreciated, the credit never stayed with her. The satisfaction she could have felt was swallowed by Selda’s cold oversight.

Yet, deep inside, beneath the layers of fear and exhaustion, something stirred. A small, strange warmth flickered in her chest—a fragile ember in a life filled with cold shadows.

Someone had thanked her.

Someone had noticed her.

It wasn’t much. Not yet. But for Aria, it was enough. Enough to make the hours of scrubbing, cooking, and obeying feel like they had a purpose beyond Selda’s harsh eyes.

She held onto that tiny piece of hope as she prepared for another long day. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself a small, secret smile. Just a flicker, but a spark of something more—a reminder that she still existed beyond the chores, beyond the fear.

Somewhere deep inside, she could feel it: a quiet power, an untamed spark, waiting. And for the first time in a long while, Aria believed that maybe, just maybe, she could survive—and maybe even thrive—in a world that had tried so hard to crush her.