CHAPTER EIGHTEEN #2
Her attention was singularly fixed on those droplets of blood, and so I anchored mine there as well. Moments passed where only the sputtering hearth permeated the silence. And then more moments passed.
“What are we—?”
Milo interrupted, “Look!”
The droplets had begun moving. In the face of my disbelief, they joined one another to form a larger drop before slithering towards the brooch.
Inching up its gold, the blood swirled around the rubies, almost as if they were searching for a way inside.
I stared, my throat suddenly dry and heartbeat quickening.
“Stars above…”
“This brooch was made with Hollow blood.” Catrin shook her head disapprovingly before returning the round-bottom flask to its cupboard. “Why do you have it?”
“How is that possible?” I said, my voice sounding faraway. Why would Rowland give me a brooch infused with Hollow blood? And how could a brooch be infused with blood in the first place?
“I asked you a question,” Catrin said loudly. “Why do you have it?”
The disapproving pitch of her voice had me scrambling to explain myself. “I don’t know anything about that,” I insisted. “I… I only came into its possession the day before last.”
“Maybe she is a Hollow.” Milo’s youthful features pinched into a scowl. “Is that why her neck hasn’t healed?”
I drew my fingertips there. I’d forgotten to check during my self-assessment, assuming the bruises had disappeared alongside the rest of my ailments, but as I pressed against the skin, I had to suppress a wince.
“You know what I think, Milo?” Catrin wiped down the brooch with a small bit of cloth. The incline of her head gave the distinct impression he was about to be unimpressed. “I think there’s a fresh bloom of hollow henbane that needs to be pruned, and you’re the herbalist’s apprentice for the job.”
Milo’s entire demeanor deflated, his shoulders rounding forward and a grimace painting his face.
“At your obedience, Master Catrin.” He stalked towards a door by the hearth that I hadn’t noticed, only offering a weak wave as he walked by.
I didn’t know what hollow henbane was, but pruning it must have been quite the ordeal.
“Milo,” I called after him. “You have my thanks.”
His smile was half-hearted as he disappeared outside, only allowing for a glimpse of overgrown grass and mist beyond the shop.
Catrin set the brooch on an empty shelf before grabbing the backs of two wooden chairs and placing them near the hearth. She sat in one and extended her hand towards the other.
I hesitated there, casting a quick glance around her shop once more.
“Sit, unless you have somewhere else to be,” she said.
I saw no other option available to me, and so I approached the chair. I unclasped my cloak pin before removing my cloak entirely. I draped it over the chair’s back and took a seat, the trepidation I had felt earlier once again settling deep in my stomach.
I had expected Catrin to speak, but she only stared, seemingly waiting for me to begin our exchange. I swallowed thickly against the fear knotting in my throat, unsure that I really wanted the answer to my question as I spoke.
“This is all very strange, isn’t it? The blood just now, and what I experienced earlier this morning… if I didn’t know any better, I might think I was trapped in a bad dream.”
“If there is one assurance I can make, it is that you are not dreaming.” The raising of her brow was sympathetic as she continued, “Milo mentioned your crossing was tumultuous as well. That’s… uncommon.”
“So I’ve gathered,” I said humorlessly. “It’s almost as though someone doesn’t want me here.”
“Perhaps someone doesn’t,” Catrin echoed with the smallest of smiles bracketing her full lips. “This place is… different from greater Morwyn, to say the least. Grenythwood is special, and it has ways to protect itself from outsiders.”
“Milo called the Threshold ‘she.’ Now you’re talking about Grenythwood protecting itself.”
“Unfamiliar with barriers, I see.” Catrin’s eyes sparkled in a way that reminded me of Bjorn. “I suppose they’re not a common sorcery, are they?”
I pressed my lips together tightly. To me, all sorcery was uncommon, yet I could not admit such a thing.
So despite the urge to leave her shop at once—to distance myself from someone who spoke of sorcery so casually, as if it didn’t promise an early grave to all who encountered it—I instead reached for a bit of honesty in reply.
“I’ve not heard of a village protecting itself, no.
To be quite honest, the both of you sound a little mad. ”
Catrin’s smile only deepened when she said, “Maybe we are.” After adjusting her skirts, she added, “I’d like to know what occurred when you crossed. Crossing is slightly different for everyone, of course, but you may have experienced something unique. What happened exactly?”
“Since you’ve asked, allow me to enlighten you.
” Anger pitched my voice as I scooted forward, forgetting all about sorcery and madness.
“That unassuming little creek hiding in the fog? It’s anything but.
I took one step back into that thing and ended up completely submerged in waters whose depths were drenched in darkness.
How deep is the water, one might wonder?
I wouldn’t know, because from my vantage point, it appeared endless.
Were there tiny puffy fish swimming down there, or giant river beasts?
If you can believe it, I had no interest in finding out, so I swam as fast as I could to the surface, only to be pummeled by some unforeseen bastard of a storm that summoned a wave I’ve yet to thank for this beauty!
” I pointed dramatically to the side of my head where I knew crusted blood coated my hair.
“In essence, it was horrifying. What I thought was going to be a simple hop and a skip across a couple of wet rocks was instead a traumatic, death-defying experience I have no intention of ever repeating.” I crossed my arms and thrust myself into the chair’s back, sufficiently miffed.
“Sounds a bit mad, wouldn’t you say?” Catrin offered casually. Before I could respond with indignation, she continued, “It’s good you’ve been put off the Threshold.” When my eyes widened, she quickly added: “I wouldn’t recommend attempting to cross again, given how poorly it went the first time.”
“Fortunately, I wasn’t planning to,” I said tightly.
“Why are you dressed as a Hollow?” Catrin asked, albeit more gently than the others had. “Milo said you were claiming to be one, but we both know that’s not true, now don’t we?”
I held her gaze, refusing to allow my face to give me away.
“No reply?” she said, and I had the distinct impression her patience had worn thin.
“Well then, it’s time for a lesson. Anyone who resides in Hollowmire becomes a Hollow, and Hollows are immune to most forms of herbalism.
That is perhaps your least obvious tell, and the fact that you don’t know the others, well…
” Catrin tilted her head to the side, that knowing expression deepening.
“Based on your general knowledge, or lack thereof, I would assume you’ve never stepped foot in Hollowmire.
If it weren’t for this brooch, and the bruises on your neck, I might go so far as to say you’d never even met one. ”
I forced a steadied breath and looked into the hearth. Anywhere but her cheerful strawberry-blonde curls bouncing with admonishment.
“If you’re willing to tell me, I would like to know where you got those bruises.” Catrin’s voice, even when mildly perturbed, was soft and patient. Too reminiscent of Nora. I wasn’t ready to think of her yet. To think of all that I had lost.
Catrin tried again, this time successfully pulling me from my thoughts. “I can help you, if you’ll let me.”
“Like you’ve helped other crossers?” I chanced.
Without hesitation, Catrin bowed her head. “Precisely. I am a healer first and foremost, Lyssa. You have nothing to fear where I’m concerned.”
Bjorn and Catrin were acquainted. That much was certain.
And although I questioned Bjorn’s loyalties earlier in the day, he had unmistakably assisted in my crossing.
He must have known his errant herbalist and Scholar were the only two souls I knew of in Grenythwood. Perhaps this was his plan all along.
In that moment, I realized I had no choice but to accept Catrin’s help.
I was in a village of strangers, without coin, and no means of obtaining any.
I was a wanted woman, on the run from not one, but two kingdoms that seemed more than prepared to do whatever it might take to capture me.
There was little chance I would survive this strange place without relying on someone, and an acquaintance of the man who had helped me escape—not to mention the healer who saved Astrid Umfrey—seemed as good a person as any.
So I sucked in a preparatory breath to steel myself against the emotions I knew lay in wait.
“I met the Hollow my father promised me to,” I explained. With a quick gesture towards my neck, I added dryly, “These were a gift from him.”
Catrin released a heaving sigh before reaching forward to clasp my hand in hers. “I am so sorry. That must have been horrifying.”
With great effort, I nodded. My whole body tensed as I refused to allow the memory access to my mind—I needed to stay in this moment, far away from the night before, so I resisted the urge to withdraw my hand.
The pads of her fingers were rough, but warm, and I enjoyed the way she thumbed my knuckles.
“You’re Lunamorian,” Catrin said slowly.
As if she could sense the kicking up of my pulse, her grip tightened.
“You crossed with only a satchel to your name. You’re unfamiliar with mermoss and salted myrtle.
I think you very nearly fainted when you saw I had onyxium.
And you arrived claiming to be a Hollow… ”