Chapter 6
My aunt’s face is scrawled with her signature scowl, her thoughts written all over.
We’re quiet and tense as we hurry the rest of the way home, our heads on a swivel.
We pass a pile of burning Flies on our block, the acrid smoke rising in a black flare.
I hear glass shattering farther away, followed by shouts that bellow.
My aunt tightens her hold on my arm and hauls me up the stairs of our building.
My mind is still reeling with Theo. With Gisela.
With the way she looked at him with such love.
The way she smiled at me. So nice, so sorry.
Apologetic, because apparently Gisela is the type of person to never intentionally hurt anything, and she hates that Theo hurt me.
She told me so, in a note that she left at my door.
I didn’t reply to it. Burned it that very night, in fact, until it was nothing but meaningless ashes. I couldn’t bear to keep looking at her neat, swooping handwriting. At her pretty apology.
My aunt tugs on the tarp of glued Flies that still hangs over our door. Neither of us have done anything to move it now that the pests are gone. Maybe it will deter people from choosing our home to loot.
She lets go of me as she digs in her pocket, searching for the key.
I look around, checking to see if anyone is nearby or watching.
Because Theo is right. We do need to be careful.
Things will get more desperate and violent.
Though, based on the sound of that shattering glass, I think it’s already begun.
Our entire walled-in city will soon be dying of thirst, and that desperation will become very dangerous.
And for me . . . even more so.
It’s easier to exist as a fiend when things are safe and comfortable. But when people are fighting for survival? For their share of rations? The fae won’t hesitate to turn on me. To target me.
Friend or foe. Fiend or fae.
When things ended between Theo and me, I found out very quickly that his friends were just that. His. Even Kaetir, despite the fact that he’s a fiend too. I suppose our horns weren’t enough to make us allies.
There aren’t very many of us. The Banes raped and ravaged for five years throughout all of Brekon, but still, they could only spread their seed so far.
I think there are a few hundred of us fiends in the entire world, though that’s just a guess, since I’ve never left Hamelyn.
Maybe there are more now, with a second generation from those who’ve had children and passed down our horns.
But here in my city, there are only a few dozen of us.
I’ve never had any of them as friends, save for Kaetir.
It would be nice to have a fiend friend of my own.
Or any friend, for that matter. But truth be told, I never made it a point to make any.
I was always taking care of my mother, even when I was young, and working at the mill every day.
I was too shy, too nervous about the world.
I shut myself in and shut everyone else out.
I met Theo when he came by our market stall as Aunt Lenna and I were selling our paper. He charmed me instantly. Made me buoyant with the bubbly feelings of romance that I leapt into heart-first. He brought me into his abundant circle, filling the gaps of loneliness within me.
With all that gone, it’s harder to live with the empty space.
It also means I’ve lost the pulse of the city. Without the others to keep me in the loop about what’s going on, I’m more or less in the dark. I have to be extra careful. The last thing I want is for danger to fall upon my aunt and mother because of fae specifically targeting fiends.
“Got it,” my aunt grumbles, as she finally pulls out the key and jams it into the lock.
As soon as we get inside, my aunt bolts the door. She hurries to the kitchen and crouches down near the stove, yanking up loose floorboards to hide her jar of water away. I stand numbly, only looking up and blinking when she comes back and stops in front of me.
Not long after I saw stars on my mother’s face for the first time, I saw Aunt Lenna’s. I only ever see someone’s stars once, unless they change. But both my mother’s and my aunt’s have stayed the same.
When Aunt Lenna’s constellation sparkled to life many years ago, they appeared with a wink at the corner of her right brow. Loyal. Hardworking. Stoic of heart.
Her stars are nothing if not accurate.
“Look at me, Esti.”
My black eyes lift to her lavender ones. She and my mother don’t have the same color eyes or hue of blond hair, but they do have one thing in common.
Their love for me.
Hurt and traumatized, my mother had to flee and come here, seeking shelter with Aunt Lenna, while being ostracized for having a fiend baby. My aunt took us in without a second thought. She loves us fiercely, fights for us with her sharp tongue, and never treats either of us like a burden.
“That boy,” she begins, her tone scathing.
My lips twitch. She always called Theo that boy, even though I’m twenty-five and he’s two years older than me.
“He did help us just now,” I point out.
“Only so he could go brag about it to anyone who would listen. We both know he likes making sure everyone knows how good he is.”
Yes, and I used to defend him about it. Now, there’s no point. She’s right.
“There’s a difference between acting good and being good,” she tells me. “I saw through him from the very beginning.”
“I wish I’d listened to you,” I say. It would’ve saved me a lot of heartache.
Her expression softens. “I know he hurt you, but you can cry over him when we have enough water to drown ourselves, alright? Not now. You don’t waste a single drop on him now. He’s not worth the dehydration.”
A tiny laugh pushes out through my nose.
“The ones who let go of us are not worth holding on to.”
I swallow hard. Once. Twice. Until my throat chokes back the tears. “You’re right,” I reply with a bolstering exhale.
The look on her face is without a shred of doubt. “One day, a man worthy of you will find you, Esti.”
I nod, though I don’t believe her. Not at all. Because who would want to find a fiend?
She leans forward and clamps me in a hug, my jar bulging awkwardly between us. She’s not a very tactile person. She doesn’t hug often, or press my cheek with a kiss, or any of that. She’s more reserved, so when she squeezes me tight, my heart squeezes too.
“Thank you, Aunt Lenna.”
“Always, my girl.”
“What’s happened?”
We separate, both of us turning to see my mother making her way down the corridor.
I quickly dash away the sadness from my features and focus on my concern for her. “M?m, you should be in bed resting.”
She waves a frail hand at me. “I’m perfectly alright. Are you okay? You were gone a long time. I was worried . . .” She sees the jar still clamped in my arms, and her face lights up with relief. “You found water?”
“Indeed,” Aunt Lenna answers dryly. “Because our benevolent Lord Havlon is selling our city’s reserves back to us.”
My mother looks between us, expression turning horrified. “Selling?”
“For a very steep profit.”
Worry and anger flood my mother’s face. “That foul, dishonorable snake,” she remarks. “That’s how all those Core fae are—greedy and power hungry.”
This is nothing new. My mother doesn’t think highly of our Govern, or any Core fae, for that matter. It’s one of the only topics that gets her tone to crisp.
“I thought for sure he’d do something with the Poison Plague hitting,” I remark. “People mobbed his house. His rule over Hamelyn will fail if he’s not careful.”
“There won’t be a Hamelyn left for him to rule if he keeps sitting on his crooked hands,” my mother seethes.
“Well, we’ll make do,” Aunt Lenna cuts in, before relieving my aching arms of the weight of the jar.
“I’ll get this boiled, and we will ration it out.
We’ll be careful. I’ll hide it away in a different spot from the other one too, just in case.
And it will rain,” she adds, shooting a glare up at the ceiling as if to chastise the sky into following her demand.
“Of course,” I agree, the corner of my lip tilting as she turns and stomps back to the kitchen.
I give a soft laugh under my breath and turn to look at my mother. “She’s always—” My words rip in half as soon as my eyes land on her. The blood has drained from her face and her jaw is clenched, the tendons in her neck straining.
Oh no.
I manage to swoop in, catching her right before she crumples to the floor. “M?m!”
Her entire body locks up into a violent convulsion. She stiffens and shakes, eyes rolling to the back of her head, teeth gritted so tight I worry she can’t breathe.
“Aunt Lenna!”
My aunt runs back in as I awkwardly settle my mother onto the floor. I yank a pillow from the sofa and put it under her head and then watch in helpless panic as she has one of the worst convulsions I’ve ever witnessed.
Her mouth froths. Every limb goes stiff. And she shakes so strongly I can feel it reverberate through the floorboards. I only realize I’m crying because a drop splatters on my mother’s pink dress, darkening the fabric.
“It’s not stopping . . .” I say to my aunt, my tone pitching. “Why isn’t it stopping?”
Aunt Lenna shakes her head, her expression tight with worry.
Usually, my mother’s fits last a few seconds, thirty at the longest. This one goes on and on and on. My face soaks with tears. Aunt Lenna and I clutch her fisted hands, waiting, panicking.
Until the convulsion finally ends, and her entire body sags.
We move quickly. Together, we lift her and set her on the sofa and then work in tandem to wipe her face and rub out her stiff muscles.
“I’m alright,” she says breathily.
Her convulsions were once few and far between. Something that only happened if she overexerted herself. Yet this past year, they’ve become more frequent. More severe.
“I’m going to brew you some tea.”
“No, we need to save the water, Esti.”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “We need you well, M?m. Don’t be stubborn. Please.” My voice cracks, and her eyes fill with worry, but she nods.