The Pond Part 12

Just because Izolda was spending more time trying to fit in with the other girls of the village, did not mean she was neglecting her studies in the cave. She still studied when she could, but it was getting harder to get away, and she was missed if she stayed away too long.

She was sixteen now, and though several of the young men of her village had taken an interest in her, she became adept at discouraging such attention lest her father get ideas about marrying her off before she was ready. The last thing she wanted was to remain in the village the rest of her days.

If she had cared to, she could have easily been the leader of the small group of village girls, but she did not want that kind of responsibility. A leader’s movements were kept track of, her absences noted. Explanations of her movements would be needed. Just being part of the group was exhausting.

Perhaps it would have made a difference if any of them had been the least bit interested in magic. Though she was very careful to keep her true power hidden, it would have been nice to have someone with similar interests. But these girls had little interest in magic, and most of them had very little in the way of power.

“I do not understand, mother,” Izolda confessed one evening. “Why is it that magic runs so strong in our family, but not in others?”

“Magic is a thing that must be nurtured, used, to make it grow. The women in our family have done so for years.” Olga shrugged. “It is not always so with other families.”

“At one time, marriages were arranged to encourage strong magic in the offspring,” her grandmother put in. “You would be wise to seek such a husband. Think of the sons you would have!”

Izolda ducked her head, hoping the red in her face would be mistaken for maidenly embarrassment rather than the rage it was. Why would she want to bear sons who could wield magic when she could not?

“Magic is status,” her aunt Anya added. “It is the reason your father is leader of this village, and well respected by others.”

"You could do worse than marrying for status," her said.

The following day, Izolda joined her friends, still mulling over what her grandmother had said.

“What is wrong, Katrinka?” she asked. Katrinka was normally the most cheerful of the group.

“Nothing is wrong,” Katrinka said. “Not really. My betrothed has told me he is emigrating with his brothers. Our marriage will be delayed until he is settled and sends for me.”

“I did not realize you were betrothed,” Izolda said in surprise.

Katrinka nodded. “Since we were small children. His mother and mine were friends and wished to bind our families.”

“And you had no say in this?”

With a shrug, Katrinka said. “He is pleasant to look at and comes from a good family. I could do worse.”

“Where are they emigrating to?” Marta wanted to know.

“America.”

There were gasps from several of the girls.

“America is so far away!” Svetlana exclaimed. “Won’t you miss your family?”

“Perhaps. But it is a chance to forge a new life in a new land. But it might take a year, maybe two, before he’s ready to send for me.”

The girls fell to discussing both moving so far away and having to wait so long to be married. Having never been far from the village, most couldn’t fathom going so far, even for the prospect of a good marriage.

“What’s he like?” Marta asked.

Katrinka smiled. “You will be able to see for yourself. He’s coming to walk me home later.”

There was excited chatter for the rest of the afternoon. At first Izolda had trouble picturing moving to America. She’d heard many stories about the wilderness and the savages. Two of her brothers had shown an interest in emigrating until Andrei put his foot down with a resounding no.

When Katrinka’s betrothed arrived to fetch her, she introduced him to everyone. When Izolda looked up at him, she saw her future. And it’s name was Nikolai Antonovich.