Chapter 19
Chapter
Nineteen
The crackle of a fire sparks as I step into the big clearing in the woods on the opposite side of the town square, flames flaring in the open space.
The sound of glass clinks from my pocket as I pick up the skirts of my deep green dress.
This is the dress I wear on special occasions. The linens were hand-dyed up in Zorindale, and the bodice laces up in the front, making my bust look slightly more generous than it really is.
But it isn’t my favourite because of the way it hugs my figure. It is my favourite because this is the dress my mother got me for my seven and tenth name-day, the last name-day I spent with her.
It also has pockets deep enough to conceal the small vials of deep blue liquid I shoved in there before I left home. It felt dangerous to leave them in my cabin while most of the town is out tonight. Those and the dagger that I now carry with me more often than not.
A group of people jeer as I walk past them, already drunk on moonshine, and the sun has barely gone down.
Jars are hanging from twine strung up between the trees, with fireflies swarming behind the glass. As miserable as the poor animals are, it makes the clearing look magical, like the evening is sparkling. I make a note to myself to make sure they get let go soon enough.
Behind the sound of the fire whooshing, I can hear the familiar tune of the bard’s lute. A song I suspect I have heard a myriad of times, but the children dance to it with bright smiles, skipping in a circle around him and his band.
The energy is light this evening. The Spring Equinox gives everyone a wonderful excuse to let loose and enjoy the beginning of the season with home brews and familiar songs.
But I can’t help but feel the presence of the shadowy figures hidden between the trees.
Men in black with eyes like hawks stalk every move of every person here, yet no one is paying attention to them—but I do.
I narrow my eyes as I see a shield step out of the shadows, his large silhouette marking him as the man from the tavern.
A shiver skates up my spine, my body suddenly cold even as the heat from the fire fans my cheeks. He crosses his arms and steps in front of a tall tree, his eyes locked on me as I slowly walk through the celebration.
“Miss Everleigh!” a little voice shouts. My eyes fall away from the man between the trees as two little bodies run up to me.
“Why hello,” I say, bending down to meet the height of Mr Dunsmoor’s daughters. They are two of the youngest in our small community at only four and five years of age.
A surge of guilt hits me like a tidal wave.
Their eyes are bright, as if their father is still here, waiting around the corner for them.
In some ways, it is beautiful how quickly young children can bounce back, but it will hit them one day soon; they’ll start asking questions, ones I don’t dare to think of for the sake of the aching in my chest.
“We made you a flower crown,” they echo, their smiles brighter than the fire raging beside us. I swear I can feel my heart getting warm around the edges as they hold out a crown made of daisies in front of me.
“Oh, my!” I say, holding a hand to my heart. “Thank you so much! Would you please do me the honour of crowning me?”
They giggle as I bow my head, and both of them place the precious crown on my head with delicate hands.
It’s such a small joy, but I can only imagine how magical it feels to their little souls, so I smile just as brightly as they do as I ask them how they made it.
They explain in the most roundabout way, and it just pulls my smile even wider.
“Girls!” a voice calls from across the way. I look up to see Fleur Dunsmoor sighing in relief as she catches sight of her daughters.
I smile over at her as I stand. She gives me a brief hello before turning to her children. “You weren’t bothering Miss Everleigh, were you?”
“Oh, no!” I cut in. “Of course not. They were just presenting me with this lovely crown.” I tip my head.
A tired smile pulls at her lips. “Why don’t you two go and dance with the other kids,” Fleur says, and the girls don’t hesitate before skipping away. “Before I lose sight of you again,” she mutters, rubbing a hand over her eyes as she tips her head down.
I want to ask her if she is okay, but the question simply answers itself. I lay a careful hand on her shoulder. “Are you sleeping well?”
I see her shoulders drop before she looks up at me once more. “Not a wink. I can barely think during the days, just merely floating through time. But in the evenings, all I can do is think. Think and think and think,” she sighs.
I grab one of her hands in mine. “Come to my shop tomorrow morning when you drop the kids off with Coral. I can give you something to help.”
Tears well in her eyes as she nods, giving my hand a tight squeeze. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” I say.
She looks over to where the girls are now skipping in a circle around the band. “I'd better go and keep an eye on them but thank you again.”
I just nod, hoping my smile reaches her before she disappears into the night.
I have lost a lot of people in my life, but I have never lost anyone the way that Fleur did. Nothing so violent or horrendous befell the people in my life. Well, I don’t exactly know what happened to Finnick, but all I can do is hope that it was nothing like that.
A hand warms against my back, and I nearly jump. “Sorry, dear,” Edward Pines says as he holds a jar of moonshine out in front of me. “Do you fancy a glass?”
I know I shouldn’t, that I should stay away from the potent drink, but if I can’t have a drink at equinox, then when can I? Though one jar will be enough, I want to keep my wits about me.
“Go on,” I say, taking it from him.
I cannot blame people for wanting to take the edge off, for wanting to let go for the night, but I can’t help but keep one eye on the shadows around us as Edward leads me through the crowds of people.
The man who was watching me earlier has disappeared once more, but I am not foolish enough to believe that he has gone anywhere but a step back into the shadows.
I see the flash of Cedar’s pale eyes in the firelight where she sits comfortably atop a tree stump. She flashes a smile as she leans forward, intently listening to Maeve, who holds a praying mantis out in front of her.
“I can’t,” Hazel says, shaking her head from where she sits next to Cedar. “They frighten me too much.”
“We’ll add that to the list right below leeches,” I say as we reach them.
The girls' eyes light up when they see me, and they shuffle over so that I can sit next to them.
“I see Edward convinced you too,” Cedar says, clinking her jar of alcohol against mine.
“You’re afraid of leeches?” Maeve sends her question in Hazel’s direction as she lets the insect crawl off her hand and into the grass.
“Yes!” she says, her eyes widening. “They are absolutely terrifying.” Cedar and I just snicker, having heard her reasoning a million times.
“Did you manage to find any of those mushrooms?” Cedar asks quietly enough that only I can hear her.
“Yes,” I mutter, mindlessly grasping the locket around my neck. “Though I’m not sure that I understood the riddle correctly. I thought I'd figured it out, but…nothing extraordinary has happened.”
“What were you expecting to happen?” she whispers.
“I’m not sure, maybe something else to make me think that a certain glowing wall wasn’t merely a hallucination.”
“Well,” she tips her head, “you disappeared, Everleigh. And you came back with something that wasn’t there before. I’ve thumbed my way through those journals—they’re definitely real.”
“What about you two?” Maeve’s voice cuts through our wondering.
“Hm?” we both echo, and Hazel gives us a sideways look as if to say fill me in later.
“Have you had any run-ins with Hawthorne as of late?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I haven’t seen him since the…” I don’t know what to call it.
“Yeah,” Cedar mutters. “I haven’t seen him since that day at the library.”
“He made a visit to Thorley’s practice,” Hazel says quietly.
“He what?” Maeve and I echo.
Hazel just nods. “Elara was there, Hawthorne and one of his friendly new shields came in and looked around. Apparently, the shield accidentally let a few of her jars fall off the counter and smash all over the kitchen floor.”
“Gods,” I mutter, shaking my head.
“Elara said Thorley was pretty shaken up afterwards,” she adds.
Maeve tsks. “Of course she would be. What are they doing intimidating an older woman for sport?”
“It’s these men’s version of fun,” Edward mumbles, his jaw flexing as he grits his teeth. Maeve lays a reassuring hand on his knee, and he takes it, the tension in his jaw quickly fading as he looks over at her.
“Can you tell us a story, Maeve?” Cedar asks. “Let’s speak of something good on a night like tonight.”
“Oh,” a young voice sounds from behind us. “I love story time.” Marcie, the Pines’ daughter, rounds the cut-off trunks that we are perched upon to sit cross-legged on the grass in between her mother’s legs.
Maeve simply smiles as she finds her hands in her daughter’s strawberry hair. “What kind of story do you feel like?” she asks, letting her fingers slip through the long strands.
I almost think I feel Cedar nudge me, but then she’s speaking. “Could you tell us about Esther, and how the two of you became friends?”
She definitely nudged me.
I lean forward, curious to see what Maeve says as she smiles wide at the mention of my mother.
“I met your mother when Ambrose brought her around one evening for…what was it?” She looks to Edward.
“I believe it was your chicken roast,” he says. “I remember him calling in the day before to tell us that he had met a woman, and that he wanted us to meet her right away.”
“That’s right,” Maeve says with a smile. “I spent all day in the kitchen—and back then it was nothing compared to what it is now.” She raises her brows, but her eyes are trained on where she’s now braiding Marcie’s hair.