Everlark in Medieval Spain
Gale glares at us from across the street, watching our exchange with too much interest. He's not the only one.
I am Jewess; Peeta a Christian. I dress in black and bear the badge and Peeta Mellark wears red, as if it isn't a terrible licentious sin to do so. He wears a crown of blond curls too that look soft to the touch.
"The law forbids it," I sternly lecture Peeta, as I stare down at the sweet milk bread he has baked and brought me as a gift. A gift to accompany his proposal.
"Bread?" he teases.
"Marriage."
My parents broke Peeta's god's law and my sister has curls as blond as his beneath her dark kerchief. It was a small, personal act of rebellion for which we all pay. Jews and Christians alike won't do business with us.
I wouldn't go hungry as Peeta's bride, but it would be wrong to say yes for a full belly.
I scowl at his slow grin.
"One day, Katniss."
Maybe. I just need a better reason.