Chapter 53
Maylie
Fifteen winters old
A LOVETAIL CHATTERED from the rooftop above.
For a moment, the cramped, cold filth of the Pits disappeared, and Maylie could imagine she was standing on the mountainside once more with rocky slopes rolling away in all directions, the sound of crashing streams and bleating goats in her ears.
It was said that Mountain folk had brought lovetails to the capital many winters ago as pets. Some of the winged, squirrel-like creatures inevitably escaped and bred until the Pits were full of them, delicate flutters of colour against the grimness.
Tadrie had always had a soft spot for lovetails, their jade beauty managing to capture her practical, brisk heart.
She used to say she had once found one wounded on the banks of the lake in Silicia and nursed it back to health.
For winters afterwards, it would perch upon her windowsill in the morning, chattering a thankful love song.
Maylie’s stomach clenched with grief. She did not like to think of her aunt if she could help it.
She had always been a prickly, serious woman, but she had also been something of a mother, and her little cottage was the closest thing Maylie had had to a home.
If Tadrie had lived, perhaps everything would be different.
Perhaps they would never have come to Tormale at all.
With a sigh, Maylie pushed open the door to their little shack in the Pits.
She blinked into the dim, musty room. It was no smaller than Tadrie’s cottage and sparsely furnished, yet it always managed to feel muddled and cramped.
This lodging in the Pits was only meant to be temporary.
When they first arrived in Tormale, Esmelie had said that before her next winter, they would have moved higher up into the smart, pretty streets near the Old Quarter.
But Esmelie had turned eighteen winters last season, and they were still no better off than where they had started.
Maylie had tentatively suggested more than a few times that they could return to the mountains.
But any talk of home made Esmelie angry.
‘There’s nothing there for us, May!’ she always cried.
‘We came here for a better life. I’ll never go back.
Never.’ And, unfortunately, Maylie believed her.
‘May?’ said a thin, trembling voice. ‘You’re back.’
Esmelie sat at a small, rickety table in the far corner, staring at the wall – exactly where Maylie had left her early that morning.
‘I thought I’d make us some eggs for dinner,’ said Maylie, trying to pull her mouth into a cheerful smile.
She fussed through the dirty pots and bowls on the table until she found a scratched saucepan to place on the dying fire.
‘Did you take the tea I made you this morning?’ she asked. ‘I left it out on the side.’
Maylie had brought Tadrie’s healing notes to Tormale despite the weight that they had added to her pack.
After saving up a few flecks, she had intended to set herself up as a healer, but such grand plans had crumbled beneath the hard life of the city.
The relentless cycle of work at the Delaphio household used up every ounce of energy she had, and after taking care of Esmelie, she collapsed into a deep slumber on her pallet in the corner of the room most nights, before dragging herself awake again at first light.
Besides, the city was full of healers – those that claimed knowledge of medicine and those that quietly offered extra, magical services too.
The tonics and potions that Maylie made these days were just for Esmelie, but they were only marginally successful.
There was not much that could cure a broken heart.
‘I drank the tea,’ replied Esmelie. ‘Thank you.’
There was a strange hollowness to her sister’s eyes that Maylie did not like.
‘Good,’ she murmured, slipping the cooked eggs on to two chipped plates. In the mountains, eggs were easy to come by and, poor as they were, Maylie had always been able to cook an egg, but things were different in the city. Everything cost.
They sat together, forks scraping across plates. Maylie glanced at her sister’s gaunt face: cheekbones jutting, eyes yellowish and glazed. It was the most well she had looked in many moons.
‘I saw something today,’ said Maylie, hoping to tempt Esmelie into conversation. ‘A creature. One of the Hidden People.’ She cut through her eggs and the yolks seeped across the plate. ‘There’re some around the city, but only a few. I see them so rarely compared to home. So it were a shock.’
Esmelie made a hmm noise.
‘It were up by the city walls. Some kind of … goblin, I think.’ She shivered, remembering the stooped, sinewy body and snubbed, distorted face. ‘It were swinging about at the top of the wall, trying to catch a pigeon.’
The lack of the Hidden People was one of the only things Maylie liked about Tormale.
She did not know if there were fewer of them around or if they were just harder to spot in all the commotion.
Either way, if she did happen upon a creature in the city, she left it alone, swiftly turning her head away.
‘You should eat up,’ said Maylie, nodding at her sister’s plate. ‘You need to build your strength back.’
Esmelie shook her head and put down her fork. ‘I feel unwell,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll lie down for a while.’
Maylie’s spirits plummeted. ‘But—’
‘Ravie might be back later.’ Esmelie’s voice sounded dull and detached.
Maylie watched her sister crawl under the blanket of the lumpy bed in the corner of the room.
‘I should rest so I’m ready for him,’ added Esmelie, closing her eyes. ‘He’s been gone a few days, but he’ll be back tonight. I know he will.’
Maylie bent her head and silently finished the eggs.