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“Wait a moment”.

Aniela nodded and turned on the heel, a quiet giggle escaping her throat. She touched her lips – they seemed almost hot under her fingertips, the entire body burning. Somewhere in the back of her head, behind her eyes, was a pressing burden of the reality she was going to face once the sun have come up and the alcohol has evaporated out of all the wedding guests. When their eyesight would become clear and it would be harder to hide the redness of the burning lips. She didn’t want to let all the anxious thoughts in now, though. There was a wedding. Tradition, however loathsome for her, was to be happy. Her only desire was to give in to the sweetness she still felt in her mouth, to the extasy lifting her feet off of the ground.

Maciej emerged from behind the kitchen door, the hat and the apron already off, wearing outerwear. Aniela turned around to look at him and her cheeks widened involuntarily as if about to burst any minute now. In Maciej’s dark eyes was a warm glow she either hadn’t recognised up until that point or hadn’t had an occasion to do so. Maybe it was the glow of the candles and bonfires burning everywhere or maybe the oddly orange moonlight sipping through the trees but her heart, like never before, ensured her she didn’t want to stop looking into these eyes for many hours to come. He formed a smile, too, cheering her up – she didn’t just imagine that kiss they both drowned in several minutes earlier.

Maciej moved forward, walking past her and she follow suit. Having adjusted her step to his, her right pinkie finger found his on his left hand. He yanked his arm away as if burned and looked at her, a serious fright on his face. Aniela couldn’t hide her surprise bordering on hurt.

“Someone can see us!”, he whispered, frantic.

She giggled.

“Who? Everyone’s hammered”, she responded, her voice calm, though, still a bit amused. “It’ll take some time before they start seeing a straight line, not to mention two intertwined pinkies in the dark”.

Not entirely convinced, though, still not willing to get into a fight, Maciej gave in and wrapped his pinkie finger around hers. The touch, ever so slight, was like a strike of a lighting but it failed to block anxiety pouring in through the holes in his happiness and into his consciousness. You’ll be hanged for this. The magnate’s son words circled in his head like hungry vultures, ripping his euphoric state to shreds, piece by piece.

Even though of two different ranks, they both were almost equally caged by society. The difference was in the fact that she never had to go hungry and could take a bath any time she felt like it. Aside from that, the amount of rights they had was similar and equal to zero. If anyone found out about their meeting, she would end up disinherited and banished from her house, not a penny on her, not a clue about how to live in a world you’re nobody for. His fate would be far more tragic – the punishment for touching a noblewoman with his filthy hands was the rope. Even walking in the dusk, floundering through the deep mud, they risked more than they would like to admit to themselves. At that moment, being in her presence was everything he desired but he knew full well he would want that the next and the day after that, and for a week, a month, a year… In the long run, hiding could only do more damage than good. Eventually, they would attract curious looks.

But what other option did they have left? For how long could Aniela withstand her mother and he – try to escape death?

Not today, he scolded himself, looking at a rosy cheek of his dearest.

“Where are we going?”, she asked, unlimited trust in him obvious.

“To probably the safest place right now in Adamczycha”, he replied with satisfaction.

Aniela lifted her brow, suspicious.

“To my forge”.

She scrunched her nose.

“Won’t Bogdan be there?”

He shook his head.

“I saw Bogdan a couple of minutes before we left, mumbling something about being rich and taking over the world and, well, sober he was not. Surely he’ll spend the night with the rest in front of the inn, in the mud”.

Not long after that they stood at the doorstep of the forge, a warm light sipping through the cracks, just like at the wedding party. Wood in the furnace dimmed so Maciej picked up several sticks from the ground and threw them into the pile. A greater fire burst for a second and the interior became brighter. Having sighed with exhaustion, Maciej sat down on a stack of hay and a moment later Aniela followed suit, taking a spot right next to him. He felt the heat emanating from her body but kept convincing himself he confused that with the furnace. It wasn’t easy; intrusive thoughts sharpened his mind and he couldn’t not notice that they were situated perfectly – all alone, far from prying eyes, on a soft surface…

He recalled Henryk Lubopolski’s face and the inner fire extinguished under a wave of ice cold anxiety.

“What now?”, he asked.

Aniela’s gaze was absent, fixed on an unknown point in the space.

“Where did you get the idea that I was engaged?”, she asked, leaving his question ignored.

He looked at her closely. She watched him curiously; he, having made sure there was no grudge in her words, just a thought yet to be discovered by him, responded:

“Your brother came around… He told us to look for ladies for the wedding because you’ve accepted a magnate’s proposal”.

“Jakub?”

Maciej nodded.

Aniela looked away, seemingly very deep in her thoughts, focused as if trying to solve all the world’s mysteries. She remained quiet for a minute before she spoke. This time, her voice was quieter and calmer as though she managed to get rid of all the tiring thoughts:

“We need to be very careful”.

Maciej didn’t answer. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t known before.

“My brother probably knows”, she went on, her voice slightly trembling with fear. “Or maybe not… Maybe he thinks he managed to separate us for good. Anyway… We can’t smile at each other, look at each other, not to mention holding hands or…”

She trailed off, Maciej’s heart beating faster. He would give up everything to be able to dive in that feeling he had when she kissed him. He let himself fully drown in the softness of those lips, in that non-existence of the world.

He noticed redness on her cheek.

“And what if a beautiful peasant girl, let’s say a pig feeder, comes up to me one day and says: “Hey, boy, you’re nice and pretty and not a scamp at all. You wanna go grab a tumbler full of wine at The Jew’s?””

He was utterly delighted once he got hear her peal of laughter. She added nonetheless:

“Then I’ll come and confirm that, of course, you’re nice and pretty but an UTTER scamp!”

Maciej joined in on her laughter but when a minute later they feel silent, he added:

“I won’t have any excuse”.

“I don’t want to is an excuse. And a pretty good one at that”.

Aniela fell quiet again, her knees pulled to her chest. She embraced them with her arms and laid her chin on them. Two minutes passed before she asked:

“And what if, eventually, a magnate’s son shows up and he’s not a junkie and nobody blows his head up?”

Maciej knew full well he could reject as many peasants as he pleased but Aniela didn’t have that luxury in terms of unwanted attention. Her opinion was of no significance whatsoever and if an acceptable candidate showed up, Zofia, for some unknown reason shook to the core that evening, wouldn’t hesitate to decide on her only daughter’s fate on her own. Any minute now a carriage could break down in the woods again, a nobleman inside, bringing their sweet time alone together to an abrupt end.

Maciej let the silence sink in before he spoke:

“Then I’ll come and confirm that, of course, you’re smart and good-natured but like every noblewoman, you’re completely insane!”

Aniela laughed one more time, her eyes never leaving his face. Once again, Maciej was taken over by a feeling he had never thought existed before that night.

“You really think that about me?”

He nodded.

She moved closer, the sides of their knees pressing against each other, and gazed at him with nearly religious reverence. Having lived the humble live he did, he never wondered if and when he would have a wife but surely would never even dream of having a noblewoman completely swooned by him. Him. An ordinary, filthy peasant, a blacksmith by heritage. He had heard, of course, on many occasions, warnings to not let himself be fooled by a noblewoman’s charm. As beautiful as they may be, getting involved with them never ends well. Loving one would be his undoing.

But death seemed so conceptually absurd when gazing in to the dark, sparkling eyes of Aniela Adamczewska.

As instructed by his family, he never expected anything. Like right now. Well… maybe he did expect a little bit. Somewhere in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind stuck was a spark of hope, ever since that memorable day he mistakenly took her for a peasant and told her to feed the horses. She, however, didn’t seem bothered at all and walked away to do the chore. He received more than he dared to dream of.

Aniel slid her palm into his, intertwining their fingers. There were no words worthy of expressing how that tiny gesture sparked a wildfire in his body. She sighed quietly.

“It’s getting brighter”, she said, her tone indicating discontentment. “I will have to come back in a minute, otherwise they will figure out I wandered about and I’ve angered my mother enough as it is. I wouldn’t like my father to join her since he promised to re-think the entire magnate’s son thing”.

They both remained silent for several minutes.

“But how am I to walk away”, she whispered, “when it means I will have to let go of this hand… and carry you around only in my thoughts… Maciek?”

Maciek. No one had ever used this name for him and this simple term of endearment made him feel elated. In that moment, he knew he would be Maciek for her and her only. No one else had the right to use that name. The genius of this word made the simple Anielka fade away.

He realised he barely breathed when he replied:

“And, uh… will a handmade artifact… be enough of a semblance of my presence?”

Intrigued, Aniela straightened her head. Maciej, however, reached behind a pile of fabrics – his makeshift bed – and pulled out a doll made out of hay. He handcrafted it during one of many cold winter evenings to forget the freezing temperature. And the thought the he was not indifferent to a certain noblewoman. At that time, it seemed like he was close to death because that conclusion could only have been a result of madness.

Adamczewska took the doll in her delicate hands with reverence. She studied the object, her mouth agape.

“It may not be a piece of art like-”

Before he had a chance to finish the sentence, her weight almost knocked him over. He managed to keep a straight posture, trying not to provoke a suggestive pose and its tragic consequences but it was not easy. He himself locked her in an embrace, very shyly at first, and buried his face in her neck.

“Thank you”, she whispered in his ear.

She pulled away and looked at the doll again, then slid it under her shirt.

“But now I don’t have anything-”

“Come by the stable to feed the horses tomorrow”, he cut in. “Even though we won’t touch… it will be like… like…”

He couldn’t stop staring at her lips, especially now, with her face lingering next to his.

“Like what?”, she whispered, as though afraid to startle him.

He swallowed with difficulty. When he opened his mouth, his throat let him only whisper:

“Like a kiss”.

This time he wanted to be the first and before she managed to move, his palms were cupping her face, their lips drinking each other in. Aniela moved dangerously close to him, almost climbing onto his lap. She kept pushing and he was slowly losing strength to keep his body straight. Finally he decided to take a step forward, let go a little and a moment later he leaned towards her, gently pushing her on her back, inch by inch. He gave into the overwhelming power more than ever and immediately felt how big of a mistake it was.

So, how would you like to live?

Doesn’t matter, as long as you are by my side, he replied to her in his mind with words he was to afraid to articulate at the inn. But that would mean elopement and a life in a never-ending shame and poverty… That was no life for a noblewoman.

“My dearest daughter! Where are you?”

Aniela jumped as if stroke by lighting and that burst the bubble. Adamczewska rose to her feet immediately and bolted to the door to observe the outside through the cracks in the wood. Indeed, the sun was rising and Jan Paweł’s silhouette walking up the muddy track, however wobbly, was more visible than Aniela anticipated.

“It is time to return home! No time for your “no magnate’s son” stunt…”

“Hide!”, she whispered to Maciej. “My father cannot see you when I walk out of the forge!”

The blacksmith looked around.

“Come on! Burry yourself in the hay or hide behind the furnace!”

No other option available, he started going through the hay and Aniela helped him put a layer thin enough to let him breathe and thick enough to be unrecognisable.

“Anielka, don’t be rude… It is time to go to sleep…”

She pulled the forge door and yelled, her voice trying to resemble joy:

“I’m here!”

She sneaked out of the building like a spy, opening the door just a crack, carefully covering the view from the inside with her body.

Jan Paweł stopped, frowning.

“What were you doing in the forge?”

It was only then when Aniela realised that several meters behind her father, her mother walked, miserable. The young Adamczewska hesitated before joining her returning from the wedding party parents.

“I was throwing some more wood to the furnace”, she lied quickly. “So that the peasants wouldn’t freeze in the night”.

Her mother snorted, father laughed while putting an arm around her.

“My dear, that was unnecessary! Peasants don’t feel cold! Come on, tell me, have you ever heard a peasant complaining about cold?”

I know one who surely won’t feel cold tonight.

While her father proceeded to conduct a lecture on peasants’ alleged natural talents of surviving any weather, Aniela drifted away to the moments from several minutes before when her lips hungrily took over his; when a feeling, a force, rather, seemed to have possessed her, like a stranger ghost.

She knew full well that if, by casting a spell, a witch didn’t turn her peasant into a prince, there wouldn’t be much of a future for them. Technically, their fates would be different, at least at the beginning. However, it all came down to one thing – their premature death. But she promised herself to figure something out, no matter the cost, and devise a perfect plan. She was not to be passive. Not like other noblewomen whose hearts beat faster for someone they weren’t meant for.

And the real consolation was the thought of falling asleep with a piece of her beloved under her pillow.

“…but there’s nothing to be afraid of, surely we will find you another magnate’s son, right?”

Before she figured it out, her father, very much content of himself, let go of her arm to open the front door.

Aniela didn’t respond but when she turned her head, she was met with her mother’s cold look. She seemed to have read her thoughts.

She would have to devise that plan a lot sooner than expected.