I wanted to believe that it was beautiful, but for the first time in my life, I doubted something other than myself.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When the sun came up, my exhaustion had become a buzzing current of restlessness. My legs ached, and my toes and fingers stung as I silently served Julian his breakfast.
I glared a little.
He ignored it.
As I made my way out of his quarters, he called out softly: “Apprentice Haven.”
Pausing, I rested my hand against the freshly polished wooden door, which smelled piney. Everything here was old and new at once. “Yes?” I answered without looking back. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face.
“You are relieved of your duties today. I will head out on your rounds. You should rest.”
My shoulders tightened, but I nodded in acknowledgment. I’d be a fool to argue for more work, but I was still ashamed. I’d been punished by my Senior in less than a week at Frostbrook. I felt like a second year caught chasing mice out of the pantry with darts of radiance.
Which I’d done. Twice.
I should have gone to bed immediately. My body screamed for it. But I knew I’d only continue to twist myself up, ruminate on my faults, consider Julian’s perplexing kindness this morning and Ainsley’s keen gaze, and Ezra—
I blinked and looked around, reorienting myself. In an indecisive daze, I’d wandered out to the dock.
Crashing to my knees, I reached into the cold water and splashed my face, willing away the heat that rose in me when I thought about Ezra’s boyish laugh. He would certainly laugh at me right now if he knew I’d spent the whole night pondering my many faults.
For some reason, I still wanted to hear him do it.
I sat back heavily, my palms against the weathered, splintering dock. The old wood was a testament to how long Frostbrook had functioned as a river trading post before the railway ever came. Before it brought conduction cables and the promise of Industry. What had life been like then? As wild as the river itself, as ever-changing as the clouds that whispered across the sky above?
Fatigue was making a poet out of me.
Too stubborn to return to the Mission and rest, I dragged myself up. There was no sense in prolonging what I knew I’d set out to do. It would do me no good to pretend I had any power over my impulses once they caught ahold of me.
I headed off looking for Ezra.
He, at least, believed there was something good in me. Something worthwhile. He, at least, was willing to teach me something.
The town wasn’t terribly big. Someone would know where he was.
I nearly stopped short on the path through the woods when it occurred to me that I had no idea where Ezra lived or who he lived with. He’d mentioned the midwife, Beatrice, but nothing of living with her. He certainly didn’t live with Ainsley and Henry in their tiny shack of a house. I’d never thought to ask.
He was right. I only knew what people told me.
My imagination ran away with me as I walked, the rhythm of my footsteps hypnotic in my exhausted state. I pictured him building a house of leaves and sticks every night with his magic, and the absurdity of it drew a soft, tired giggle from my chest. I felt better in a way I couldn’t explain now that I’d walked away from the Mission. No small amount of guilt accompanied that realization.
I heard voices in the woods and stilled. Something about the timbre of them was different from the bustling drone of the workers’ camp. Cocking my head, I tucked myself against a tall tree as if it would shield me. Some of the people were shouting. A woman’s ringing voice rose above them, not frightened but chastising. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the hair on my forearms stood up. She sounded far more intimidating than Julian—more like Cook, who didn’t hesitate to wallop us with her wooden spatula when we made off with fresh biscuits at the House of Industry.
“Josephine.”
The low voice at my ear nearly sent my spirit right out of my body. I wrenched my hand away from the tree I’d been holding on to and found it smoking faintly where I’d sparked radiance into the rough bark.
It was Ezra, his brow knit in a worried frown. For once, he didn’t comment on my lack of control. He didn’t even look at the smoke from my radiance. Instead, his gaze flicked in the direction of the shouting.
“What?” I started to ask, before he took my hand tightly and my voice broke into a hoarse garble.
“Be quiet,” he whispered sharply. “Come with me.”
He led me deeper into the woods like he had before, his feet falling surely as he wove between trees and mossy boulders. “Shouldn’t you be working?” he asked in an impatient mutter, which made something in my chest crumble a little. There were suspicious people shouting in the woods. What had I done wrong?
