Chapter 31
Chapter
Thirty-One
Wind rips through the town square like a mother ripping a blanket off of their child’s bed, leaving me exposed to the cold as I walk along the wobbly bricks.
I fell asleep within minutes of being back in my cabin last night. Rylan and I made it back within two days, and the closer we got to home, the more nerves settled deep in my stomach.
Somehow, I have come back knowing both more and less than I did when I left. And now, as I move through the town square, everything feels as if it is balancing on an invisible edge.
I never told Rylan about the key from my medicine box. Every time I went to let it out, something stopped me, like I wanted to stay in the bubble of contentment that we were in. But now that we are back, that bubble has been burst, and I need to tell him.
I spent this morning restocking the shelves in my shop with the things Imogen gave me. It's not as full as it once was, but it's somewhere to start. And I'm making my first delivery today.
The sky above is a dull grey, one that leaves the town square looking more wearisome than ever. I try not to take it as a bad sign.
A couple of shields linger in the shadows, and I had almost forgotten just how imposing their presence can be after spending a week away from their looming shadow.
Something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and when I turn, I see a head appear at the top of the town hall building. A man in all brown stands on the roof, a cluster of parchment in his hand.
I gasp as he wobbles, finding his feet with his arms out wide before he steadies himself. He stands tall, his chin held high as he throws the parchment. The wind carries it through the square, the papers fluttering like makeshift butterflies as they fall onto the bricks at my feet.
I pick up the flyer that landed just short of the toe of my leather slippers. The perfect penmanship marks it as the work of a council member, or someone from further north.
I read the swirling words pressed into the paper, and my brows draw together involuntarily. Others pick up the parchment littered across the ground, and the square grows quiet as everyone’s attention falls on the announcement written across the page.
“Join us,” a voice calls out, and I look up to see the same man on the roof. “For Mayor Hawthorne’s name-day celebration this coming Friday,” he calls, his voice getting carried away by the wind. “We expect to see you all there to celebrate our great mayor.”
Of course they do. I turn away from the man, and my gaze catches on a familiar figure. Silas stands at the edge of the square with his arms crossed over his chest as he eyes the councilman on the roof.
Part of me thought he might have been waiting at my cabin for me to return. I don't know what I would have said, or if I even wanted that, but this is the first time I’ve seen him.
I can’t pinpoint it, but he looks…different somehow.
I have always been able to read Silas easily, easier than I can read myself sometimes, but I can’t decipher the look in his eyes as he stares up at the councilman.
His posture is sharp, his jaw set, and his eyes narrowed.
He has never been too fond of the councilmen, yet something about his manner feels changed.
Things between us have changed.
I once felt as if he was the one singular person who understood every single facet of my being, but now…there is so much he doesn’t know, so much I haven’t shared, and I’m not sure if I ever will.
Silas’s gaze meets mine. I expect his gaze to soften at the sight of me, the way it always has, but today it only hardens. As if he is assessing me in a way he’s never done before.
I wait for him to approach me, to ask about my trip and perhaps interrogate me about Rylan stealing a horse from him, but he turns and walks the other way.
I try to blink away the sting that forms behind my eyes. I can’t help but think back to that day in my cabin, the day he asked me why it felt like I was lying to him, maybe he has figured it out, maybe he has heard whispers from the shields who chased me through the dark that night.
Perspiration crawls up my neck, along with a heat rising in my cheeks as I imagine everyone’s eyes on me. I can feel myself spiralling, paranoia rising to the surface for no reason.
I’ve been on edge ever since we crossed the boundary line back into Sylvan, looking for dark shadows following me.
I’ve seen no one, nothing that hints at any shields tailing me. But I can’t help but think that ransacking my shop was far from their last move—they aren’t done with me yet.
I wonder how I would fare under interrogation. Would I hold out, or would I spill out every secret I hold up my sleeves?
I shake off the thought as I move swiftly through the square, trampling the flyers scattered across the ground into the bricks.
I knock on the door of Coral Clark’s house slightly harder than usual. The sound of children’s ruckus explodes when she opens the door with a wide smile.
“Everleigh, hi!” She wraps me in a tight hug without a second thought, and I find myself grateful for it, for the moment of peace in my mind as I breathe in her bright scent. Like the smell of lemons and cleaning supplies. “Thank you so much for coming.”
“Of course,” I say, pulling out of her embrace.
“We can’t have you running low now, can we?
” Coral looks after a few of the children from town, poppets like the Dunsmoor’s daughters whose mother isn’t fit to care for them as she tries to find work.
I must check in on her, take her some lavender oil to help her sleep at night.
I pull out an assortment of jars and tins, passing them to Coral as a child runs straight past us and out the front door, whizzing past like a dragonfly over the water.
“Sage!” Coral yells out, calling after the little one, who comes skipping back clutching one of the flyers from the ground.
“There’s a party!” She holds it up to Coral, who takes the paper and shoos the girl back inside her house.
“Mayor Hawthorne’s name-day celebration,” I say. Coral’s gaze meets mine before she throws the parchment back out into the square.
“I won’t be attending,” she mutters. “I’ll be staying far away from any occasion where it’s a promise to see that man.” She shakes her head, and it has me wondering if more people have had encounters with Mayor Hawthorne and his shields while I was gone.
“Has something ha—”
The sound of something falling echoes through her house, cutting me off. Coral gives me a wide-eyed look before she thanks me and rushes back into her place.
Left alone with the wooden door once more, I sigh and walk back through the square.
This town used to be bright, full of life, and everyone trusted one another.
Now it’s nothing more than a group of people all scared of the same threat, all hiding from it, cowering away, and not knowing how to fight it.
I think of Iris, thieving for food for her people.
The people who live entirely in secret. This system forces them into hiding when they are nothing more than families trying to survive.
When I first met him, I thought Evander was a bitter boy, but he has a fair enough reason to hate the world around him.
In all honesty, I am surprised not more of the people living in their community act in the same way.
“Everleigh!” My name is being shouted at me, but the voice is like an urgent whisper. A familiar one.
I turn to see Hazel and Elara hurrying across the square in my direction. I would usually be relieved to see her, but the look in Hazel’s wide eyes has me hesitant to greet them.
She makes a small hand motion, beckoning me to follow them around the corner and down the alleyway they step into.
I look around the square. The shields from earlier stand together, engrossed in their conversation. One of them holds an invitation to Hawthorne’s name-day celebration.
I cut across the square, quickly hurrying down the small alleyway that runs between the seamstress and the sawmill.
Hazel’s hand wraps around my wrist and tugs me down another small alleyway as soon as I step around the corner. “Quickly,” she says. “We need to get to the library.”
“Apparently Cedar has something to show us,” Elara adds, both of their voices hushed, and their steps hurried.
“It’s lovely to be back, thank you so much for asking,” I exhale with a small laugh, nerves tumbling off my tongue with the smart comment.
“A shield has been watching my house since last night,” Hazel says, and my gaze shoots to the worried one she throws over her shoulder.
“What?”
“We’ve been trying to lose him for half the day without making it look like we know he’s tailing us,” Elara says as she peers down the alleyway behind us, and I follow her gaze, seeing no hints of a shadow behind us.
But I can almost feel a presence on my skin, like something is lurking, just waiting for us.
I pick up my feet as we hurry around another corner, finding ourselves behind the library.
The back entrance door flies open just as we reach it, Cedar hurrying us into the building before she quietly closes the door behind her.
She peers out the small window at the top, her head swinging to look both ways.
My chest is heaving by the time she turns around to face us, but at the sight of her I hold my breath.
Her cheeks are devoid of any colour, and her eyes look red around the edges as if she’s been reading under lamplight all night.
“Oh, gods,” Hazel says at the sight of her. “What is it?”
Cedar’s troubled gaze meets mine as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing it in worry.
“Cedar?” I ask.
She wrings her fingers before closing the door that separates the main library from this small office. She turns, pressing her back against the wood before she takes a deep breath. One that only doubles my nerves.