Dragonmark by Sherrilyn Kenyon

never done what he did.
    â€œSay something !”
    â€œSod off!” she snarled as she struggled to get her bucket from the well to the field where she was having to tend that damnable wheat she hated with every piece of her being. But thanks to Virag, this would be the rest of her miserable life. She would live and die in this wretched field, tending those disgusting vegetables and plants, and plowing and tilling the earth until she went mad from the boredom of it.
    No man would have her now. They all knew she’d been rejected by Illarion and sent home in disgrace. As horrible as the mockery had been before, it was thrice as bad now.
    Only since her return, every man thought her to be a whore atop it all.
    Thanks to Virag.
    â€œShe speaks!” Virag shouted. “Granted, not what I was expecting. But finally, I got something out of you.”
    Edilyn slammed the bucket down, spilling half its contents. That made her hate her brother even more since she’d have to go back all the sooner to collect another round. She glared at the insufferable beast. “Go to hell and rot!”
    His eyes glowing with sincerity, he winced. “How many times do I have to apologize?”
    She scoffed at his useless words. “There will never be enough. For what your actions did rend, mere words will never mend.”
    A tic started in his jaw. “Do you want me to leave?”
    Honestly? She wanted him to die. But having lost the rest of her family, she choked on those words, because she knew the true finality of them. Just as she knew the finality of losing Illarion.
    What she couldn’t understand was why this hurt so much. She’d only known Illarion a few hours. Virag, however, she’d known so much longer. He’d been with her, her faithful guardian, since her childhood. She didn’t really want to lose her brother.
    But her anger at him over what he’d done was an unreasoning beast. It wanted to lash out and cut him to the bone. To make him feel just a pittance of the pain he’d caused her.
    Thoughtless bastard! How could he think only of himself? Unlike her, he had magic aplenty to get whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. To do whatever he wanted. He’d lived a long life, and he would continue to live on, centuries after she was dead and buried.
    His actions in this against her made no sense. It was the epitome of selfish.
    â€œWhy did you do this to me? You knew how much I wanted to get away from this life. Yet you refuse to take me from here because you say that you can’t, for stupid reasons, and the one time I found my own way out, you forced me back. Why would you damn me to this? What were you thinking?”
    â€œI didn’t think he’d notice, to be honest. Damn, Eddie. Did you see that cavern? How the hell did he miss one little stone?”
    â€œUgh!” She threw a muddy dirt clod at him. “You’re such a horse’s arse!”
    Disgusted, she wiped at the perspiration on her forehead as more rolled down between her breasts where it itched to an unbearable level, and fought the urge to strangle him. If she gave in to that need, he’d just overpower her and make her angrier, anyway. And what really didn’t help her foul mood was the fact he used his powers to clean off the mud and be impeccably dressed again. Meanwhile, she was covered in filth and sweat. Her arms coated to her elbows in mud, her dress, and in particular its hem, mired with muck from her chores. She smelled so bad, even she was offended by her stench. Every strand of her hair was caked and plastered with field dirt and sweat.
    She didn’t want to think about what was stuck on the bottom of her worn leather shoes. That pungent odor choked her every time it wafted up on the scarce, stifling breeze.
    Damn oxen.
    And damn her for not paying closer attention to where she put her feet.
    â€œI can see that you’re upset—”
    She cut his words off with