ifteen years.
Today was only a few days over fifteen years since she had watched him run from her, fifteen years since she had been betrayed. Fifteen years, but she could remember that day and the few months before it so vividly.
During her few short months on the streets of Vienda, Fahlo and Sednai had been close- no, inseparable. The two were the king and queen of Viendan streets for a time. They were thieves, and they were good at it. No pocket was safe from the duo. They had plans to give up their thrones among the street children, however; Fahlo and Sednai were saving money for new lives out of Vienda, and, well, they were almost there. Fahlo, however, saw that the two had enough for one immediate ticket, and he took the opportunity to leave, and leave Sednai with nothing of what they had- money, food, clothes, and companionship.
As poorly as she viewed the months now, they had been a few months of true happiness, adventure, and childhood. She had mattered, she had learned how to live for herself, not for some galdor master.
She wondered what fifteen years had done to his face. The boy she had known was now 32, and she couldn't possibly imagine that the stern, skinny face the boy had had in childhood was the same now. She could remember the very placement of the freckled islands on the map of his face, the angle at which his smirk sat in his thin lips, and the way his red locks framed his portrait like curtains. She wondered how different he would be as she gazed across the stony road from the shade of a generous market awning. She had come to the very spot three times this week alone, unable to convince herself to cross the street, to cross the street and open the door of the herb and spice shop across the road, to cross the street and open the door and find that man and tell him that she was Sednai Igaluk and- and...
Well, she hadn’t thought that far ahead. Today, however, was the day that she’d cross the road, feeling the uneven cobblestones poke through the thin soles of her shoes. She’d stroll up to the shop, glancing up at the red sign that read “Lovage and Marjoram, Herbs and Spices.” She’d smile lightly at the convenient last names. She had always told Fahlo that, with a last name like Lovage, he was made to sell the herb. She’d push open the warm wooden door, the earthy and comforting smell of herbs and spices welcoming her into the room brightly illuminated by a skylight. Shelves would surround her full of bottles of dried leaves and seeds, and she’d stroll across the wooden floor to the counter, ringing the small bell there. The bell rang, and Sednai jumped. She wasn’t pre-planning the situation, oh, no, she was in the room, and the ringing of the bell had trapped her in the situation. She bit her lip, nervous for who would come in. from the curtained back room behind the counter. She could hear feet approaching from behind the curtain, and she busied herself with looking around the room nervously. She picked up a jar of bay leaves from the shelf farthest from the counter.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
Sednai looked up, and, had her nerves not been forcing her to hold the jar in white-knuckled hands, she would have dropped it. There, behind the counter, was Fahlo, unaged. His blue eyes still sparkled, his skinny face was still covered in an archipelago of freckles, the right sound of his mouth still rose higher than the left from beneath his red hair.
“Fahlo?” she asked, her mouth dry. Was she hallucinating? She must be. She had to be. She hoped she was.
“Oh, I’ll get him. Just wait here,” the boy nodded, turning back to the backroom. In a moment, he returned, this time with an older man.
“Here, Dad, she wanted to see you,” the boy said to the man. The man gazed at her, his blue eyes tired. His hair was still bright red, his face still freckled. His body had lost its boyish gangly-ness, but he was still young, handsome. Sednai smiled shyly. She couldn’t believe it was him.
“Fahlo, it’s me,” she shrugged, unable to wipe a grin off of her face as a warmth grew inside of her.
He didn't recognize her.