Free Unwilling (Book One of the Compelled Trilogy 1) by Kristen Pike

did not hurry, he would be getting to Market late too. Jace made sure Luna, the pale mare their family owned, was strapped tightly to the cart filled with that day’s breads and pastries, still fresh and steaming.
    “And Jace.” His mother called, stepping from the house. “Hurry home tonight, there’s something your father and I would like to discuss with you.” Jace’s pa came to stand beside his ma in the doorway and the husband and wife exchanged a knowing smile.
    “Of course.” Jace answered, swinging himself up into Luna’s saddle, feeling guilty for the lie he had just promised.
    Jace spurred Luna forward and she neighed as she lurched into a walk, the carts wheels creaking behind them. Jace’s breath puffed out in clouds in front of him, and he ducked his head, Luna’s feet crunching in the snow. Jace had decided late last night as he- not unusually these day- couldn’t sleep, anxiety over where Rowan could have gone, and if she was okay twisting around inside his gut like a venomous snake, that he was going to go back to her house after Market closed. He was going to pound on her door until someone answered and if they didn’t he was going to bust the door down and search every inch of the property until he found her, consequences be damned. I hope that someone answers though , Jace thought gloomily.
    He had no doubt he could bust the door down if it came to it, he was very strong, lugging around massive sacks of flour and sugar tended to tone ones muscles, but he was scared, though loathe to admit it, even to himself, of what he would find once the door came crashing in. She’s probably fine, Jace chanted to himself for what must have been the millionth time, but he could not ignore the way his stomach twisted in knots and the feeling of dread that seemed to have permanently settled over him.
    Jace spurred Luna faster, Market was not much further off, but he was growing impatient, nerves flitting in stomach. Jace drew in a deep breath, the cutting winter air entering his throat, stinging it, and he coughed once to try to clear it.
    Jace spied the Market up ahead, the sight, which normally would have made him feel relaxed; it was his home away from home, today only made him feel empty. It was made up of a couple dozen wooden booths, half of which would stand empty until summer swung back around. The booths lined one street, and Jace could hear the beginning sounds of Gavaint behind the Market getting ready for the day. People coming from their homes in the main village to brush out the previous day’s laundry, opening their shops and preparing for customers, Jace could even hear a group of children shrieking at each other as they tossed the fresh snow that had fallen overnight at one another. Jace was the last booth tender to arrive for the day, getting there just before the sun rose. A hush was fallen over the Market, snow making the sounds of the world dull and far away in the way only snow can.
    Jace tied Luna’s reins to a post outside his booth and she whinnied. Jace dumped some oats into a trough and Luna ducked her nose into it, eating the dry grain noisily. Jace set up his tarts on the counter, organizing the display neatly as his father had taught him to do, then began stoking logs in the large brick oven him and his father had built a number of years back to reheat the pastries. Jace made sure to keep them away from the flame so they didn’t overcook and dry out, placing them at just the edge of the heated brick so they remained warm, but soft.
    The sky grew brighter as the sun rose higher and Jace’s stomach knotted and tensed as he watched it grow in the sky, turning the fresh fallen snow, now trampled under the feet of that day’s customers, to mush. Just a few more hours. Then I’ll know. He thought tensely to himself, his stomach flipping on itself.
    “Mr. Tarrow, I wanted a strawberry tart.” Jenny Morten was saying snarkily to him, holding out her hand impatiently to Jace, who