Chapter 9 Hell
“I am back! And I brought sweet cakes!” I kicked the door closed behind me and waited for Christine to run down the stairs.
Or Liv to stare in judgment at the wild assortment of items I had returned with.
Or for Margaret to thank me for the tea that she had been craving since leaving Verith.
Not a sound. The house felt dead. I dropped the sacks I was carrying to the floor with a loud thud. Still nothing.
Surely they had heard me come home, or at least heard the horse and cart and thought it better not to welcome unwanted guests.
I rounded the corner to the kitchen, and there they were.
Liv and Margaret sat at the kitchen table with Christine and a woman I had never seen before.
She had kind eyes, plump cheeks, and the practical dress of a maid.
Despite her youth, there was something wise about her.
“Did we hire a maid?” Their conversation ceased, and every head at the table turned toward me.
The young woman looked exhausted. Dirt streaked the hem of her skirt.
Her hair had escaped whatever pins once held it in place, and dark circles shadowed her eyes.
She stared at me as though she recognized me. I stared right back.
“Have we met?” I did not mean for my tone to sound so clipped. But the blade smith's face flashed through my mind, and suddenly I was growing rather tired of feeling familiar with strangers. The woman blinked.
“No.” Her tone was not harsh, but rather just tired, as though even carrying on a conversation was taxing.
“Good. I was worried I had forgotten someone. Again.”
Nobody laughed. The silence stretched, and the knot in my stomach tightened. “Never mind.” I stepped further into the kitchen. That was when I noticed the folded parchment sitting in the middle of the table. And the way Liv's expression had gone completely serious. My stomach dropped.
“What happened?” I pulled out a chair but did not yet sit. Liv pushed back from the table.
“Ezra sent word.” The young woman finally stood. “Hell, this is Reina.” Liv waved a hand, introducing us. The name meant nothing to me. She rubbed at her temples. “She was my lady's maid at the manor.”
Recognition hit. “The one you told me about?” For the first time since I entered the room, Reina smiled, though it was cautious.
“I cannot tell if she told you good things about me or not.” She chuckled. “I was very fond of Miss Lavinia and do miss her at the manor. It has grown so quiet in her absence.” Mischief twinkled in her eye.
“Reina has always been a friend to me. From the first day I was dropped on Ezra’s doorstep, she was kind. She is the only remaining staff at the manor and is one of the few people in Verith I trust.” They smiled at each other.
“Wait, so what are you doing here?” I arched my brow.
The smile vanished. “The Prevailing sent me with a letter for Miss Lavinia.” Reina's eyes drifted to the folded parchment. Whatever comfort had settled over the kitchen evaporated. The air suddenly felt far too still. “Because Verith is getting worse.”
The admission, no, the warning, settled heavily over the room. “I wish I were meeting you under better circumstances, Miss Helena, but…” She waved a hand toward the letter.
“You can call me Hell.” I offered her a slight smile as I leaned to pick up the letter. A small gasp escaped me as I read. Judging by the tightening of Liv’s jaw, her crossed arms, and the vacant stare, she had already read it. A tear slid down Margaret’s cheek; she had too.
Christine sat across the table, absentmindedly galloping a toy horse.
Ignorance truly was bliss. “I will get us some tea.”
And perhaps something stronger, we would likely need it before this was through.
“Christine, perhaps you can come help me find the tea in all of this stuff,” I waved her over, “There might even be some cakes and a couple of dolls in there somewhere…”
Her eyes lit up, and she bounded across the room.
I settled her to play in the foyer. Close enough where we could hear her and keep an eye on her, but not close enough for her to hear us.
I handed Margaret the pouch of tea, and she moved like a ghost across the kitchen.
Her hands trembled slightly as she filled the kettle and then silently went to work preparing a cup for each of us.
I, on the other hand, pulled glasses loudly from the cupboards and lined them each across the counter.
The amber liquid flowed from the bottle.
Each dram landed neatly in its glass, my hands measuring without thought.
Months behind the alehouse bar had taught my muscles well.
The familiar rhythm tugged at something in my chest. Not now.
Reina watched as I placed the glasses on the table, “You drink before reading bad news?”
“No,” I said. “After.” I looked at the letter.
“...Today we are making an exception.” I lifted my glass, searching for something worth saying.
A toast. A joke. Anything that might make this room feel lighter.
Nothing came. So I shrugged and threw it back.
The liquid burned my throat and settled warm in my belly.
I let the letter flutter to the table when I finished it. My mouth opened and then closed. I was desperate to speak, but I could not find a single word. My hands ran down my face as I fell into my chair. We sat in silence as the reality sank in.
“How did it get this bad?” I finally asked.
“Stanhope.” It was only a single word, just a name, but it carried all the guilt and fury she had been trying to bury.
“He's weaponizing their fear. They won't speak against him because they fear the alternative more than they fear the hunts themselves.”
She hid her face behind her hands, a shield of sorts, “How did I not see it? How did I miss what was going on, the kind of person he was? I almost…” She did not have to finish.
“No.” I stood. “This is no more your fault than anyone else’s. You did not create this monster, you are just another person he manipulated. But there is one difference between you and the rest of them…”
I leaned over and gently pulled her hands away from her face until she looked at me.
“You want to put an end to this. You want to protect those girls. And you will.”
I watched the exact moment she stopped mourning what had happened...
and started thinking about what she was going to do next.
“We need to prepare.” She shot out of her seat and Margaret startled, but the surprise melted quickly into something that looked suspiciously like pride. She had every right to be proud of the woman she had raised.
Ezra's plan was simple. Dangerous. But simple.
He would do everything in his power to stop the girls from being marked.
If he failed, he would get them out. One way or another, he would be waiting at the fracture in the Great Wall in a week’s time.
That was where we came in. Tonight I would seal the fracture from the Torezian side, so no patrol would notice it.
Before leaving, I would carve a discreet mark into the Verith side of the wall, so the girls knew exactly where to gather.
Once Ezra got them out... we would bring them here.
While Liv thought about rescue, Margaret was already thinking about what happened after.
“We will need rooms and beds prepared, and dresses too, they will need something warm and clean to change into.”
She enlisted Christine to help with the dresses.
Thankfully I had grabbed fabrics when I went to town, but we would need more.
In fact, I had a feeling we would need more of everything.
I had only brought back enough to last the four of us a few weeks.
“I can make the run into town this time.” I knew why Liv was volunteering. The image of cerulean eyes appeared in my mind before I could stop it. Heat crept into my cheeks.
“No, I will go. I am already familiar with the town and where to get what we will need. Besides, I have to secure the wall anyway. I'll already be out.” For reasons, I refused to examine, I found myself hoping the blade smith would still be there.
“Are you sure?” One corner of her mouth twitched. There was far too much curiosity in her smile.
“Yes, it is no trouble.” I turned quickly, eager not to answer any questions about what exactly was going on. She did not look convinced.
“Well then, that gives me time to research the ancient texts.” She turned toward the study, one final smirk flashed over her shoulder.
I told myself I was thinking about flour, blankets, and tea. It was remarkably inconvenient that those eyes kept pushing their way to the front of the list.