As I reach the door to the apothecary, I’m surprised to find it in the process of opening. I’m more surprised when Harriet, the baker from next door, is revealed coming from behind it. Her face is pale, and when her eyes find me, her lips pull into a sympathetic frown. She reaches a hand and places it on my shoulder. “I brought you some bread, dearie.”
“Bread,” I echo, brows knitting together as I try to puzzle together her words with her expression. It isn’t unusual for Harriet to bring us bread. We buy some from her almost daily. So why is she saying it like an apology?
Harriet nods. “I had plenty left over after I brought some to the Holstroms.”
I stare at her, unable to make sense of her seemingly disconnected statements. “What’s this all about?”
Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open, but she doesn’t say anything.
Terror seizes my chest. “What’s going on?”
She squeezes my shoulder. “You should talk to your mother.”
I don’t wait to see Harriet the rest of the way out the door before I rush into the shop. The front is empty, so I barrel into the kitchen, then to the parlor. That’s where I find them.
Amelie is lying on the couch, her head in Mother’s lap. Her cheeks are flushed and streaked with tears as she sobs uncontrollably into a white kerchief. Something sparkles from the finger of the hand she’s dabbing her tears with. A ring.
I meet Mother’s eyes and find her staring blankly ahead, face devoid of all color.
“Ma, what happened?”
She slowly turns to meet my gaze, but her expression remains empty. “The Holstrom girls are dead. You and Amelie are being sent to Faerwyvae in their place.”
Chapter Five
Mother’s words make no sense. They are neither rational nor reasonable. And they do nothing to stop my mind from spinning. There’s no way she can mean what I think she means. My voice comes out shaky. “Ma, what are you talking about?”
She looks from me to Amelie, then strokes my sister’s hair. Amelie lets out a louder sob.
“Let’s speak in the kitchen.” Mother gently scoots Amelie’s head off her lap, leaving her to nestle deeper into the couch.
I follow her to the kitchen. “Please tell me what’s happening. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
Her eyes are glazed as she takes two mugs and a jar of herbs, then sets them on the kitchen table. “The fae ambassador just left after coming here to tell me all of this. I’ve hardly had time to process it myself.”
My eyes widen. The fae I saw a moment ago…he came from here? No wonder everyone was staring at me.
Mother spoons some herbs into the mugs, then places the kettle on the stove. She returns to face me. “He explained the Holstrom girls were…executed last night.”
“Executed! Why?”
“All the ambassador would say is that the girls were found guilty of treason by King Aspen.”
I put my hands on my hips. “We’re supposed to believe sweet little Theresa and Maryanne Holstrom committed treason against a fae king? That’s insane. What exactly was their treasonous crime?”
She sighs. “You know how the fae are.”
Cruel. Irrational. Evil. “You mean they offended him. Wore the wrong color on the wrong day of the week. Forgot to say some silly rhyme before eating fae food. Is that it?”
Mother doesn’t answer. It’s not like I expect her to know the truth anyway. The ambassadors never come with the truth. They come with excuses.
I grind my teeth. “Why are we being sent to Faerwyvae? They got their Chosen for the Reaping. It’s not our fault the king executed them already.”
She shakes her head. “The ambassador says the marriages hadn’t taken place yet. The treaty states at least one marriage must take place between a Chosen and a fae every hundred years to secure the pact.”
“What does the treaty say about the fae executing their fiancées? Drawing human blood is an act of war.”
Her voice comes out soft. “So is treason.” The emptiness in her tone is so resigned. So final. So hopeless.
I fight back tears, focusing instead on the flicker of indignation burning inside me. “You’re just going to let this happen? You’re going to let them take us?”
When she meets my eyes, her expression hardens, turning to anger. Not at me, I realize, but at the situation. “I don’t know what else to do. I thought I did everything to keep the two of you safe. I thought you’d always be safe.”
Anger is growing inside me too, and my words come out bitter. “You mean you never saw this in your cards? In your tea leaves? In all the times you took us to the wall with our offerings, promising us you understood the fae?”
“Evie, I—”
“Where is your precious magic now, Mother? Are your tinctures going to save us? Your potions and draughts? Do you have any mystical talismans to hang around our necks to ensure we don’t lose our heads?” My words are laced with sarcasm, and I watch as she wilts beneath them.
As her expression falters, so does my heart. I shouldn’t have said any of that; my anger isn’t meant for her. Yet, I’m too full of fury to apologize. If I take it back now, the rage will rot inside me, eating me alive.
The kettle whistles from the stove, saving me from the tension growing between us.
“We were going to get married by the sea,” says a wistful voice.
With a jump, I whirl around to find Amelie hovering in the doorway to the kitchen, eyes unfocused. I go to her, placing a hand on her arm.
She meets my eyes, then holds up a frail hand, the one bearing the ring. It’s a ruby on a circlet of gold. “Magnus asked me to marry him this afternoon. Now I’ll…I’ll never…”
Mother pushes a mug of tea into Amelie’s hands as a fresh sob escapes my sister’s throat. “Drink.”
Amelie does as told, then wanders back to the parlor. The sight of her uneven steps chills me to the bone.
Mother sighs, closing the lid to her jar of herbs with more force than necessary. “I should bring this to the Holstroms. It will help with their nerves. You may not believe in my craft, Evie, but I know Mrs. Holstrom will appreciate it.”
I want to tell her laudanum would be far more effective than whatever herbal infusion she’s created, but I hold my tongue. I’ve said enough already. And if I’m not ready to apologize…
I hold out my hand for the jar. “I’ll take it to them.”
Mother cocks her head, then seems to understand the olive branch I’m offering. “Very well. But don’t stay long. The ambassador will be back at midnight…” Her words dry up, ending with a choked sound.
Midnight. Amelie and I will be taken to Faerwyvae at midnight.
The house suddenly seems too small for my swarm of thoughts, for the anger and confusion and shock swirling inside. I take the jar from Mother, then rush outside faster than I can blink.
I make my way to the Holstrom farm, which is on the northern edge of Sableton. The sky is almost dark by the time I arrive, but there’s enough light to stop me when I reach their gate. For there in front of the farm lies a scene far more gruesome than anything I’ve witnessed during surgery.