Chapter Thirty-Five
“You must not tell the Priestess,” I said, feeling my heart pound. My voice sounded breathless, but it wasn’t from exertion. It was fear.
“I can’t keep secrets from the Priestess,” he said in a warning voice. “Or I’ll wind up in the dungeon.”
I studied Barlen and nodded.
Rude or not, I needed to know.
“What are you?”
He scowled, which only made him look cuter. “I’m completely offended.”
I nodded. “I would be too, but I’ve never met your kind.”
“Sure you have.” He folded his tiny arms over his chest, and the gesture seemed oddly familiar.
I tilted my head slightly in confusion. “I’m sorry. I wish I knew more.”
He huffed. “Very well. I’m a cursed goblin.”
My brows lifted in surprise. “Cursed?”
“We grow fur when we’ve been cursed.”
My hand slid over my mouth in astonishment. “I had no idea.”
“Well, I’m assuming in Stonewick, people aren’t regularly throwing curses at one another.”
“Your assumption is correct. None of my goblin friends have fur,” I said softly. “Who cursed you?”
“The Priestess.” His brows furrowed. “Goblin friends? Since when are witches and goblins friends?”
“Since the moment I met Twobble and his cousin.” I sighed and shook my head. “And I miss them both terribly.”
“Well, don’t go getting any ideas. That’s not how it works in Shadowick. And I’m afraid she’ll do worse than a curse once she finds out that Shadowick Academy is awakening and I didn’t tell her.”
I narrowed my eyes. “But is it though?”
He glanced around my legs at the imposing structure. “I would say so.”
I groaned just as the old man reappeared.
“You still have the key.” He barked the question more than spoke.
I nodded.
“Then lock it.” He eyed me. “That will buy you some time as long as you can convince your furry friend to hold his tongue.”
“Lock it?” I repeated.
The old man nodded, and I dashed toward the Academy’s door and did exactly what he said.
And before my very eyes, it settled down.
“You’ve got a good day or two before it demands attention again,” he offered before wandering down the street without another word.
I walked toward Barlen. “I’m begging you to keep this quiet.”
He looked at me, but he didn’t say a word, and then I remembered what Twobble told me the very first time I’d met him.
Everything had a price when it came to dealing with a goblin, and that was what he was, after all.
“I’ll reverse your curse,” I offered.
He shook his head. “You can’t. Only the Priestess can do that.”
“Is that what she told you?”
Barlen nodded.
“We have witches that can do the unimaginable. I’ll take you back to Stonewick, and we’ll reverse the curse. You have my word.”
“We wouldn’t make it out of Shadowick.”
My shadow mark skittered awake, and I froze. She knew something. I could feel the pull back to the compound instantly.
“He’s right, Maeve,” the Priestess said calmly.
My heart jumped as I turned to see her down the street near the bakery with several shadows circling her for safety.
Barlen left my side and hastily went over to her as I took my time making my way to my grandmother. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder at the Academy. The old man was nowhere to be seen.
That worried me almost as much as the Priestess' appearance.
Almost.
The fog swirled between us, thickening around the edges of the narrow street and curling along the cobblestones like it had decided to listen.
The bakery door had shut again, and the soot-covered awning barely moved in the still air.
Behind one of the upper windows, a curtain shifted, then snapped back into place.
The whole street had gone silent.
Barlen stood at the Priestess’ side with his head lowered, his tiny paws clasped together in front of him. He looked smaller there. Smaller and older. The curse hadn’t only put fur over his skin. It had bent something in him, and I hated that I could see it now.
The Priestess rested one hand on his head like he was a favored pet.
I nearly threw up in my mouth. It reminded me of my ex with his string of mistresses.
“Maeve.” Her voice flowed through the street, smooth and unhurried. “You wandered quite far.”
“You told me to get acquainted with Shadowick.”
“I did.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “And did you?”
“I’m beginning to.”
The shadows around her circled lazily, three of them, maybe four. It was hard to tell when they overlapped. They didn’t look like the shadows that had slipped into the Academy. These were sharper. Tethered to her. Watchful.
Her gaze slid toward Barlen, and my stomach tightened.
Did she know?
Please don’t say it.
Please don’t say it.
Barlen’s little ears flattened, and for one horrible moment, I knew he was going to break. The fear in him was so strong that even the fog seemed to recoil from it.
The Priestess tilted her head and studied him. “Well?”
He swallowed hard and kept his eyes on the Priestess. “She followed a shadow.”
My breath caught as I waited for the ball to drop.
“That much I gathered,” the Priestess replied.
“I tried to stop her,” he added quickly. “I told her the shadows were none of our business, but she distracted me with rolls.”
The Priestess’ eyes flicked to mine.
I lifted one shoulder. “I was hungry.”
“Were you?”
“The berries were awful.” I shrugged.
For a second, a tiny flare of disbelief crossed Barlen’s face as if he couldn’t believe I’d chosen that as my defense.
The Priestess’ mouth curved into a sinister expression. “Shadowick’s fruit is not made for delicate palates.”
“I’m from the Midwest. We consider ranch dressing a food group. I like spice. Those weren’t right.”
One of the shadows near her feet twitched, and the Priestess watched me carefully.
I felt that same sense I’d had in the compound. She didn’t know exactly what had happened or what to do with me. She sensed something had stirred, but she didn’t know what.
“You were near the east lanes,” she said.
“I was near many lanes. Shadowick is quite fond of lanes and alleys.”
“So many alleys.” She nodded in agreement. “Some can lead to strange places.”
“I would say most of Shadowick qualifies.”
Her gaze sharpened slightly. “You’re getting a little too frisky in town.”
I nearly laughed, but it would have been a terrible idea. “I like to make myself at home.”
“And what did you find?”
I held her gaze.
“Closed doors. Locked shops. People scared enough to drop apples and leave them in the street just for looking at them. Silence appears to be rewarded, and fear swims easily in these streets.”
Barlen’s shoulders stiffened.
The Priestess studied me for a long moment before smiling. “Good.”
My stomach dropped. “Good?”
“You’re seeing beneath the surface. That’s all I wanted.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You wanted me to see fear?”
“I wanted you to see the consequence of actions.” She turned slightly, her dark gown whispering against the fog. “Come. Since you’re so determined to explore, I’ll show you what Shadowick is through the eyes of a Priestess.”
I glanced at Barlen, but he still didn’t look at me.
“I thought Barlen was giving me the tour,” I countered.
“Barlen will continue to accompany us.” Her fingers brushed over his head again, and he flinched before stilling himself. “He is wonderfully motivated to behave.”
I despised her.
Truly.
My shadow mark warmed, and I immediately shoved the feeling down before it could bloom into something useful to her. It seemed to enjoy hatred. It reacted to force, fury, restraint, and power in ways that felt too eager.
I didn’t trust any magic that liked me angrier, but the Priestess began walking, and the shadows drifted with her, and so did I.
The street widened as we moved away from the boarded lanes and back toward a central road. Shops lined both sides, though few were open. A butcher’s sign swung above a locked door, and a seamstress stood behind a counter and pretended not to see us while her hands froze over a bolt of black fabric.
“You do enjoy cataloging.” Her brows raised.
“It passes the time.”
“It gives you the illusion of control.” She laughed. “It makes you think you’re doing something useful.”
“Sometimes an illusion is a good place to start. I like to do that to myself. You know, give myself hope when things are against the odds.”
That earned me another look. “And what odds are those?”
“Staying alive.”
She snickered as we passed a narrow square where a dry fountain sat in the center, smaller than the one I’d seen earlier. I spotted two women standing near a wall, talking in voices so low I couldn’t hear them. The moment they saw the Priestess, they bowed their heads and stepped apart.
The Priestess lifted one hand, gracious as a queen, but they remained frozen until she passed.
“Respect,” she said. “That’s what you’ll earn when you stay here.”
“Fear,” I corrected. “That’s not respect.”
“Sometimes they wear the same cloak.” She stopped and turned to look at me.
I squared my shoulders and drew a breath. “Only if someone terrible is dressing them.”
Barlen made a tiny choking sound.
The Priestess chuckled softly. “Careful, Barlen. She’s beginning to amuse me.”
He nodded quickly, too quickly.
But we continued through the square toward a row of buildings that looked slightly better cared for. The windows were clean. The doors freshly painted in muted shades of charcoal, navy, and deep green. Silver root symbols had been etched above every beam.
I saw people watching from inside, but no one came out.
“These are family homes,” the Priestess said. “Old lines. Loyal lines. Those who understood from the beginning that Shadowick must endure above all else.”
The word loyal clanged unpleasantly in my head.
“What happens to disloyal lines?” I inquired.
She glanced toward a narrow lane branching away from the square. “You’ve seen some of them.”
My fingers curled against my palms as my shadow mark flickered.
I forced my hands loose again. “The dungeons.”
“You think I’m trying to provoke you,” the Priestess said.
“I think you don’t know what to make of me.”
That made her laugh again, and a shiver moved through the curtains of the nearest home.
“You’re quick.”
I brought my gaze to hers and shook my head. “No, I’m just tired.”
“Those can look similar.”
She turned toward another street, this one sloping gently upward. The fog thinned here, revealing buildings with taller windows and iron balconies. Several held potted plants, though most were black-leafed vines with small silver flowers.
The same flowers I had seen on the compound.
“Those grow everywhere,” I said.
“The shadowvine?” She stopped and looked at me.
“Is that what it’s called?”
“It binds the village. Carries messages. Strengthens old places. It is quite useful.” She frowned. “But I wouldn’t call it everywhere.”
“Does it feed from people, too?”
Her gaze held mine. “Everything feeds from something, Maeve. Stonewick feeds from laughter, loyalty, memory, and the convenient belief that kindness makes power clean.”
“And Shadowick feeds from fear.”
“Shadowick survives on what reality provides.” She clasped her hands together and looked toward the buildings as something in her face tightened.
But it passed.
“Come.” She motioned for me to follow as we walked into the next part of town. It looked older. The cobblestones were cracked and uneven, and some buildings leaned so sharply they should have collapsed years ago.
“What is this district?” I asked.
“The old quarter,” Barlen said once he realized the Priestess wasn’t going to answer.
“Does anyone live here?”
“Some.” He looked at me with a warning.
“They avoid you,” she said. “They avoid change.”
I glanced at her. “Is that what I am?”
“You could be.” She sounded amused, and I nearly missed the softness in her, but it was there. The Priestess stopped in front of a long, low building with iron bars over the windows, and my stomach tightened.
“Another prison?”
“A school for the children,” she said coolly.
“A magic school?” I asked.
Her gaze flashed to mine. “We don’t teach magic to children. There are no magic schools in Shadowick.”
The Priestess watched me rather than the children.
That was the lesson.
Not for them.
For me.
I finally understood why Shadowick felt locked up. It wasn’t only fear of the Priestess. It was fear that had been taught early, polished and repeated, until even children knew the safest way to survive was to make themselves small.
I thought of the midlife witches standing by my side, choosing to help me because they had learned their voices mattered.
The difference nearly split me open.
The Priestess leaned closer. “You see cruelty. I can see it in your eyes.”
I didn’t answer.
“All I see is protection,” she continued. “I’m protecting these poor souls.”
“From you?” I asked, and Barlen shuddered as he moved behind the Priestess.
But she stepped beside me. “You disapprove.”
“You already knew I would.” I folded my arms over my chest as if that would shield me from what I saw.
“I hoped you might surprise me.”
“I am full of surprises, aren’t I? Today, they’re just not in your favor.”
She studied me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “The Academy would have taught them differently.”
My heart stopped for one terrible beat.
I didn’t turn my head.
“What Academy?”
Barlen made the smallest sound beside me, and I looked at him from the corner of my eye.
He stared straight ahead.
The Priestess didn’t know, but she felt the shape of something missing from the town’s silence.
She began walking again, and I followed because stopping would have said too much.
The streets seemed narrower now, the windows darker. Every person who watched us from behind the curtains felt like another weight pressing against my chest. Shadowick wasn’t empty. It was crowded with people who had learned to hide while standing in plain sight.
And with every step, I felt farther from Stonewick, and the version of myself who had stood in the Butterfly Ward and believed the world could be mended with enough courage, enough tea, and enough stubborn love.
The Priestess glanced back at me.
“Do you feel it?” she asked.
“What?” I asked, not letting my voice tremble with the realization that I might never make it back to Stonewick.
“Belonging.” Her eyes narrowed on me like a predator sizing up their next meal.
“No,” I said. “But I feel why you’re afraid to let them hope.”
Her smile faded, and for the first time all day, she had no reply.