"Why so shy, child? Are you here to join the order?" The priestess tittered and waved me over to her festival stall, making an exaggerated show of looking me up and down. "A little skinny, perhaps, but Sune doesn't grade for that."

I forced myself to ignore the heat that instantly flooded my cheeks. "Ah. I heard you tell fortunes?" If I resisted my absurd impulse to look nervously around, maybe no one would find my presence here worth notice.

Her face was mischievous as she arched one elegant eyebrow and nodded at Talia, our local priestess of the earth goddess, making her way through the festival crowd, smiling benevolently at everyone. "If that's all you require, Chauntea can sort you out." She glanced at the tent across from her, manned by two acolytes of the god of dawn. "Or one of them. You'll make their day. Lathanderites just live to tell young women about their bright futures of marriage and child-rearing."

I turned away from Talia and plastered on a generically pleasant face, pretending to casually peruse her wares—which I now realized comprised an impressive array of love charms and philters. I didn't want anyone seeing me look at those. Then I saw the goods on the table right in front of me and took an involuntary step backward. If my guess as to the purpose of those was accurate… I crossed my arms uncomfortably.

"I think I'll just go." If I had to choose between prolonging this unbearable interaction, never having sex in all my life, or taking my chances and hoping I wouldn't become pregnant, the first was my least favorite.

She giggled. "I'm teasing. I know you don't need your fortune told. Come on. Tell me everything." She motioned me to follow her.

I took a doubtful step, then froze in place as I sighted two of the village elders walking by, deep in conversation.

"All right, child. It's clear you're concerned about being seen with me. They're gossiping about something, but it's not you. No one's paying attention. So get inside." She tossed her luscious curtain of deep auburn hair and held the tent flap open for me.

I followed her inside. "You can stop calling me child. I'm almost twenty."

"Aren't we all." She let the canvas door fall closed and smiled widely at me, flicking her crimson robes ostentatiously as she sank into a cross-legged position on a cushioned bench. "Sit, sit."

I perched gingerly on the edge of the seat across from her.

"So what brings you here?" She eyed me appraisingly.

"What?" I traced her gaze to… my midsection. "Gods, no! Not that!"

"You'll have to forgive me for jumping to conclusions. Most highborn girls only come see us when they're already in a bit of trouble."

"What makes you say I'm highborn?" I shifted uneasily.

"My dear, you're dressed as a village girl, but you don't carry yourself like one. Not to mention, I've never seen a village girl act as worried as you were to be caught discussing matters governed by the goddess. You're a country lord's daughter, or I'm a virgin." Her eyes twinkled merrily. "I'm not a virgin," she stage-whispered.

I felt my cheeks redden again. What a fool I was. Someone would see me, and they'd tell a friend—eventually it would get back to one of our servants, and someone would let something slip, and next thing I knew my mother would find a way to question me about it over dinner.

"I should go—" I stood to flee like the coward I was, but she stopped me with a gentle touch on my arm. Her nails were beautiful, lacquered works of art. I'd never seen anything like them. I dropped back to my seat. Her delicate hands flitted animatedly while she continued.

"If you're here for a love potion, I have that, but its limitations may disappoint you." She looked me over. "Hmm. You already have a boy in mind, or else you wouldn't be here. Or… a girl?" She studied me again. "No, a boy."

I crossed my arms again, hugging them to myself.

"But you're not here for a philter, are you?" She considered me thoughtfully, tapping her chin with one finger. "You come from minor nobility and you're of age, so your parents will arrange a marriage for you soon." She cocked her head to one side, contemplating. "It's your chance to play, but you can't afford to get pregnant. So, you're looking for herbal prophylactics. And you also can't risk anyone knowing you're messing about with this boy, hence your nervousness and that nonsense about fortune telling." She smiled, pleased with her own cleverness.

"No one's arranging a marriage," I grumbled, feeling otherwise oddly exposed by her accuracy.

She raised both her eyebrows in knowing amusement. "Give it time. How much did I get right?"

"Most of it." I didn't like how easily she'd guessed everything. "Can we just…" I began.

"Of course. Sorry about the extemporizing. I get bored." She stood and removed the cushion from her bench, which had storage inside, and took out a metal tin. From the same place she shook out a clean square of undyed cloth, onto which she placed two small heaps of dark brown shavings from the tin.

My leg began fidgeting with nerves, so I stood to watch.

"This is nararoot. If you make this much into a tea," she went on pleasantly, "it will make you unable to conceive, for about a tenday, occasionally longer. And it tastes terrible, but if you chew the shavings instead, you'll have more time."

I looked at her in dismay. Only ten days? "I think I need more than that."

She grinned to herself, but didn't glance up. "How's this?" She added a few, slightly more generous, scoops to the cloth and looked at me expectantly.

My scalp prickled as the embarrassed flush crept into my hairline. "Ah, well, um. How much for all of it?"

Her mouth dropped open, just a little. "All right. It seems I have you all wrong. Are you opening a brothel, or what? Just how much sex are you planning to have?"

"Please be quiet," I begged. "Someone might hear. I—it has to last me all summer. Longer, if possible. I won't be able to get more until the harvest fair."

"There's an herb shop not fifty feet behind us," she pointed out.

"You think I don't know that? I can't buy this in my own village! My mother will find out."

"This is your village? As skittish as you are, I figured you were from three counties over!"

I plopped back down on the bench and buried my face in my hands. "I'm an idiot. This is so stupid."

"No. It's not. Of course it's not. You did the right thing coming here." She pushed her skirts out of the way and took a seat across from me. "Listen. I'm sorry I made fun."

"Don't be, I deserved that for wasting your time." I took out my purse and fumbled for enough silver to pay her. "How much?"

She reached beneath the table and came back up with a bulging wineskin. "No. Stay. I promise you'll be glad you did." She sounded interested in me now that I had revealed myself as a madwoman of below average intellect. "And I confess… I'm much more curious about the girl whose summer calendar of romantic assignations is so crowded that she has to buy up my whole stock"—she twisted the cork from the wineskin with a soft pop—"than I was about the lord's daughter hoping for a quick tumble during the spring festival."

She produced two wine cups from somewhere, filled both, and shoved one in my direction. "Drink that and we'll talk." She took a deep draught from her own cup, then refilled it.

I took the cup and held it delicately in both hands before chancing a sip. It was fruity, which I liked, but not too sweet, and light on my tongue. I sipped it again before answering. "I want to be… prepared."

"For the next three years? Sorry—only teasing! Don't make that face. You know, of all the virgins I've met—you may be the virgin-est of them all."

"Right. Good. Thanks for that."

"Gods, girl, your face is redder right now than Sune's hair. You need to lighten up or you won't have any fun at all with your young man. Now, tell me all about him."

"Er—"

"Oh, he's not old, is he? Well, that's not so terrible, I mean. There's something adventuresome in being deflowered by an experienced lover. Oh! Or is it men, plural? Scandalous!" Her laughter was a high, joyful tinkle.

I coughed and nearly strangled on my wine. "One. And he's not old. He's my age." Britt would find the story of this encounter uproariously funny, if I ever told him about it. He would tease me mercilessly, and I would feign outrage, and then I'd… what? Show him my two pound bag of nararoot and invite him to ravish me? Ugh.

Maybe I'd rather just never see him again.

"Well, now you have to tell me. Otherwise, what if I seduced him by mistake?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Oh my Gods," I sighed.

"Finish your wine. That's an order."

Today was a disaster anyway. I raised the wooden cup in a mock toast and drained it, an unladylike gesture that would have made my mother throw up her hands in despair.

But my mother wasn't here. That was sort of the point.

She refilled my cup and slid it back over before regarding me in curious silence.

"Fine. He's a blacksmith."

"Oh! Tall, like you? Most luscious head of hair this side of the Sword Coast? Twinkling brown eyes, lashes most any woman would happily kill for?"

I cleared my throat.

"Muscles like iron bands? Carries a hammer… and knows how to use it? Fills out his trousers like he was born—"

"—all right! Fine, he's very… good looking, yes."

"And today's the day?"

"… if he's amenable."

She laughed. "They're always amenable. How long have you been waiting?"

The wine flooded my head. I hadn't eaten yet, it occurred to me. "Er. I think, the winter solstice or so."

She giggled. "You don't drink much, do you? The look on your face just now."

I considered her words. "I don't not drink."

"Feeling better, though?"

I was, I realized. "In fact… yes."

"I thought so. Your hands aren't curled into fists anymore."

I looked down in surprise.

"Winter solstice, though! Gods, you do have restraint. At your age I would have gotten myself into heaps of exciting trouble with a boy like that." Something must have shown in my face, because her expression changed. "Oh… it's not just play for you, is it? You love him. That explains a lot."

My shoulders had begun a slow creep up toward my ears. "… maybe I do. I don't know yet." I paused. "Explains what?"

"No matter. I'm going to give you some advice."

I finished my wine and managed a quick smile. "That's good. As it turns out, I'm in desperate need of advice."

"Perfect!" She pressed her hands together with a satisfied expression. "You're my favorite kind of client."

"Ha. The pathetic kind?"

"The brave kind! You came here, didn't you?"

I spotted a small knothole on her tabletop. It looked like an owl. I rubbed my finger over the place its beak should be. "What if I'm making a mistake?"

"Oh, you well-bred families and your notions of propriety." She waved one hand dismissively and rose, removing the lid to her storage bench and withdrawing an assortment of small pouches. "Hand me that."

I looked where she pointed and saw a small iron kettle. When I picked it up, water sloshed inside. She set it on a small brazier and concentrated, muttering something under her breath. A flame kindled, flickering delicately until she leaned in and breathed on it, coaxing it to life.

"This won't take long. It's a simple brew." She opened a pouch and sifted a fine powder into the kettle.

"What's that?"

"The first time hurts. This will lessen that."

"Oh."

"See, you're getting good at this! You barely blushed just now."

"That's the wine."

"No matter." She shook the kettle and added some bark shavings. "These will keep you from getting with child."

"What was the advice?"

"The first part is simple. Do what feels good. And skip anything that doesn't. Your body will guide you. Listen to it."

That didn't sound so bad. "What's the rest?"

"Try to make water before and after. It'll prevent the newlywed's affliction."

That did sound bad. "What's that?"

"Some people call it fire bladder."

That sounded even worse. I stared at her in horror.

"Don't worry, child. Keep yourself clean and you'll be fine." She took the kettle off the brazier and took out an earthen tea mug from somewhere, neatly decanting the steaming liquid into it.

"I'll let you in on a few secrets while that cools."