Chapter 1 Grave Circumstances #2
“Thank you.”
“I was thinking I would stop by the market and bring back cider and biscuits for everyone. Join me; that way you won’t need to come up with an excuse for where you were.” He winked at her and started toward the village.
“I would like that.” Aurora took one more look at the statue before catching up with her brother.
It was rare that they visited the market for anything other than necessities, and bringing back Elsie’s favorite treat would be a wonderful surprise.
At sixteen, she was the youngest in the family, and though she was not even two years Aurora’s junior, they all enjoyed doting on her.
Elsie had borne the brunt of their father’s death, young enough to still be following their mother’s every movement, old enough to know she was being neglected.
Their mother had been wrecked by grief, and it had taken many years for her to claw her way out.
Aurora had stepped in as best she could, raising Elsie and trying to shower her with as much love and warmth as the rest of them had received.
Aspen and their eldest brother, Evander, had taken over their father’s duties, and the four of them had kept things going despite their mother’s grief. They’d had to.
Aurora didn’t harbor resentment or anger toward her mother, but Evander did, and now that he was married, he only visited when Mama was out.
She never said anything about it, but Aurora knew their mother had noticed, knew that it broke her heart.
Aurora would no sooner judge Evander for his anger than she would her mother for her grief, and she had decided long ago that she would never subject herself to the same kind of vulnerability that Mama had.
It was early, and the normal bustle of the market had yet to begin.
Small stone buildings lined the perimeter of the village, covered in ivy and moss, housing shops that sold books and ice cream, medicines and wool.
The market sat in the center, dozens of stalls with offerings ranging from tapestries to meats, and while most were not yet open, several merchants were setting up their tables for the day.
Towering evergreens surrounded the village, and each morning they bent over the storefronts and swept the ground clean, clearing the snow from the cobblestones.
Reverie was full of oddities, and no one really knew where magic would turn up.
Aurora and Aspen found the Sparrows’ line.
On most days, theirs was the first stall to open.
Their pastries and hot drinks were the best in the village, and there were already several people waiting.
Large lanterns surrounded the vendors, radiating heat, and though the market was outdoors, it was never too cold.
“Aurora, Aspen!” Mrs. Sparrow said when they reached the table. “How is your sister?”
“Still recovering,” Aspen said with a warmth Aurora would not have been able to muster. “We thought bringing back some cider and biscuits might help her along. Four, please.”
“Indeed it will!” Mrs. Sparrow said, turning to gather their order. She smiled as she handed over a large carrier and a small basket. “I threw in some extras,” she whispered.
Aurora and Aspen paid, thanked her, and began their walk back home.
Just as they were leaving the village, the first rays of the sun appeared between the peaks, and Aurora watched as Reverie was flooded with light.
She closed her eyes and felt the warmth on her skin, and even though she was preoccupied with thoughts of her sister, she felt hopeful, too.
Perhaps Elsie would be fine and Aurora’s worry was unfounded.
“How are you feeling about the wedding?” Aspen asked as they walked back.
“Truthfully, I would like to postpone it,” Aurora said, trying not to sound as indifferent as she felt. “What good is a wedding when the people I most care for can’t celebrate?”
“We will all be celebrating,” Aspen said.
He stopped walking and turned to look at his sister.
“You must continue to live, Aurora; no one—not Elsie or me or anyone else—wants you to put your life on hold just as it is getting started.” Aspen squeezed her hand and held her gaze.
“Let Elsie see all of what life may hold for her. Make her desperate to experience it for herself.” Aspen’s voice shook as he spoke, his eyes turning red, and Aurora realized then that he was as worried for Elsie as she was.
Aspen cleared his throat, and they began walking once more, but a mixture of fear and disquiet churned in her stomach.
Aurora wasn’t sure that her life would inspire Elsie in the way Aspen hoped.
It was wholly unremarkable. Ordinary. The kind of life she had always wanted, but seeing it through the filter of Aspen’s words made an inexplicable sadness spread through her.
Aurora shoved the thought from her mind and looped her arm through Aspen’s, trying to cheer herself.
The walk back went quickly in the light, and by the time they reached their home tucked in the darkness, everyone was awake.
The fire was crackling in the hearth, and their mother was boiling water for tea.
“There you are,” she said, looking up from the stove. “Where have you been?”
“We went to the market for a surprise,” Aspen said, setting down the cider and biscuits.
Elsie was sitting on the floor by the fire, covered in blankets. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I can smell that from here,” she said, smiling. “I hope you did not do this just for me.”
“On the contrary,” Aspen said, giving Elsie a mischievous look. “I did this entirely for myself and just happen to be in a sharing mood.”
Aurora watched the two of them, how easy they were with each other, how normal.
Even with Elsie’s illness and Aurora’s upcoming wedding, there was a calmness in the cottage that warmed Aurora to her core.
It made her feel guilty for visiting the Starmaker’s grave, guilty for not being able to summon the optimism that Elsie had for herself.
Elsie and Aspen sat down at the wooden table, faded and stained from many years of use, and Aurora set out plates and mugs before joining them.
“Is something troubling you, sister?” Elsie asked, pouring herself some cider.
Aurora looked to her brother before focusing on Elsie. She forced the tension from her face and smiled. “Only that Aspen is eating the biscuits so quickly that I fear there won’t be any left for the rest of us.”
“Then I better start eating,” Mama said with a laugh, hurrying over to the table.
Aurora could feel Elsie’s eyes on her, but she looked down at her plate and hoped her expression didn’t give away the unbearable worry she was carrying.
The Frost had been easy to ignore before now because it was an ever-present threat.
They had all learned to live with it, and as the years had passed and Aurora’s collection of mirrors had grown, there had been very few casualties among their crops, and the threat had somehow lessened in Aurora’s mind.
Then Elsie had been infected, and Aurora’s world had shattered in a matter of moments.
The Frost had found Elsie’s ankle, turning the skin on her leg an awful shade of white.
Cracks had formed along her calf as if she were turning to stone.
Sometimes she was not herself, irritable and confused and angry in a way she had never been before.
While all of that had subsided and Elsie’s demeanor was back to normal, her skin remained a dull alabaster, and she still slept for the better part of each day.
Aurora hated herself for thinking it, but she was terrified of what another loss might do to her mother, terrified she would disappear into her grief and never return.
She blinked, forcing herself out of her thoughts.
The four of them sat around the table, talking and laughing as they always had, but the dread in Aurora’s gut continued to build. She repeated her prayer from earlier in her mind over and over until it became a kind of meditation.
Please. I’ll give anything.
And though she scorned herself for it, she knew she would visit the grave site again tomorrow, and every day after until Elsie was better.