Unlike the humid summer mornings in Sterling City, Frostbrook at dawn had a crispiness that whispered a warning of what winter had in store.
Like all Children of Industry, I had an affinity for heat and a natural preference for sunlight over darkness, and summer over winter. Eager to warm up, I turned my face to the glowing dawn as I picked my way along the road that was only beginning to bustle with workers. They traveled in groups from the massive encampment in the woods where they’d set up temporary housing during the construction of the Mission. Canvas shelters dotted the tree line like a hundred ghosts. The clanking pans and tired groans reminded me of early mornings at the House of Industry, when we busied ourselves in the kitchens and forced ourselves to wake up with water so cold, it felt like a thousand needles.
Even the youngest children at the House of Industry had duties, and all of us rotated from task to task seasonally, until we knew how to do everything from sharpening knives to darning stockings. It made us well-rounded, prepared to run a Mission. Or, if we failed, suited to return to the House to serve the students and professors.
Growing up, I’d been busy every waking moment, whether I was learning how to manage a Mission or how to control my radiance. A quiet morning walk had been unheard of, let alone in a place wherebirdsong rose with every growing beam of sunlight and the air smelled like pine sap and something else I couldn’t quite place, something I could only describe as clean.
I’d loved Sterling City, butcleanwas the last thing anyone could describe it as. Whether in summer or winter, most people suffered from a lingering cough, and illness ravaged the population, claimed old and young alike. Many, like the women I’d met on my travels, left city life to find this very thing—the unblemished sky and dancing trees. Progress would bring more travelers to Frostbrook, and would allow them to find the solace and opportunity they couldn’t find in the city. I was part of a beautiful migration, and soon this quiet town would be a bustling young city, propelled by trade along the river.
Pride swelled in my chest as I walked, swinging my arms and feeling once again like part of something grand and good. Then a pine cone hit me square in the side of my head, catching in my hair. I cursed and windmilled my arms, momentarily convinced I’d been struck by a treacherous bird. Laughter rang out, and I knew the sound before I could quite form the word that ripped from my throat like a growl. “Ezra!”
He dropped from a tree. “I’m terribly sorry. My aim is poor.”
“Poor?” I shouted. “You nearly removed my head.”
“I meant to miss!”
“And what good would that have done?” I demanded, charging at him with my hands balled into fists. His eyes widened, and he took a stumbling step back. The color drained from his cheeks as if I’d sucked all the blood from his body.
I followed his panicked gaze, looking down to see a pale blue current of radiance dancing between my clenched fists. Horror, sudden and cold, coursed through me.
The light dissipated in an instant, leaving only the faint smell of ozone. “I didn’t mean to do that,” I whispered. It would have been nothing back at the House. A few nights forced to meditate on my lackof control. A missed meal. A singed dress. But Ezra wasn’t a Child of Industry. I could have killed him.
He had his back to the tree he’d perched in. “It’s fine,” he said, voice wooden. He didn’t take his eyes off my hands. His were pressed against the bark.
“No. It’s not fine. Losing control of radiance is forbidden. My temper … I would not blame you if you reported me to Senior Gray.”
Ezra coughed out a bitter sound. “I’ll pass on that, thank you.”
“Then allow me to repay you somehow. I won’t receive wages until next year, but if there’s anything I can do—”
“Are you trying to bribe me?” The color returned to his cheeks a bit too rapidly. His brown eyes widened.
“I am not!” I tucked my unruly hands into the pockets of my dress, half to avoid scaring him and half to avoid knocking him off his feet with a completely ordinary push for accusing me of something so untoward. “I’m trying, and clearly failing, to make things right. Although I believe it should be noted that you struck me with a projectile first, when I was doing nothing but enjoying a morning walk.”
“Are you sure you’re not a barrister?” he asked, his mouth quirking in something I was relieved to identify as close to a smile. He eased his weight from the tree to the balls of his feet, but his shoulders remained tense. “You argue like one.”
We faced each other, both breathing coarsely, and something oddly familiar struck me about the way he held himself. I brushed it off, shook my hands out of my pockets, and gestured to the path that sloped downhill to a clearing where I could make out a handful of finely thatched roofs. “I’ve been given my duties, and I’m doing them backward so I can start in town and finish at the mill. Would you mind helping me find the conduction box between the barber and the general store?”
“Somehow I don’t believe you’ll have any trouble identifying either one of those places of business.”
I let out a sigh. After nearly killing him, it was only common decency to extend courtesies. He didn’t have to be so obtuse. “Ezra,” I said, drawing my words out with annoyance, “would you like to walk with me?”
He said nothing. In the silence, my insides shivered like the leaves on the trees around us. His mouth twitched.
After a moment, I realized he was hesitating to tease me.
“Ezra!”
“Gladly, gladly.” He grinned and started walking with a gait that wasn’t quite comfortable, sidestepping to avoid brushing my shoulder. “On the way, I’ll think about how you’ll be making things right for nearly killing me.”
Although his back was tight and his feet didn’t fall as gracefully as they had on the path along the river, there was no real threat in his tone.
Still, my heart beat too fast. I took a long, slow breath before I followed him.
“You’re sure this is the entirety of Frostbrook?” I asked for the third time, staring at a total of six buildings. They faced one another, separated by a ribbon of dusty earth dotted with horseshit and scarred with wagon tracks. One of the houses was painted yellow, which was the only pleasant thing I could say about the town.
“Yes. I’m sure. You’ve got Stella’s Saloon and the inn upstairs, which have both been closed since Stella got sick and died,” Ezra said, dodging a suspicious-looking puddle. “The general store. That one is just a burned-out building … Not sure what it was before. That’s the barbershop. This place here is the bank and the jail and town hall, depending on who’s around. The blacksmith has a workshop behind this house here and rents the front out to boarders and a few of the Mission workers when they get paid and get half a mind to sleep in a real bed for a night or two.”
