She waves a dismissive hand. “Not to you, of course.”
My lips tug into a smile. First Foxglove, now Lorelei is beginning to seem charming too. “I’m sorry as well. I misjudged you. It’s just…I haven’t had the best experiences with the fae.”
“I doubt either of our kind have had many positive interactions since the war.”
I nod. “You’re right. It’s funny, though. I grew up with a sort of terrified reverence for your kind, instilled by my mother. I was fascinated with what little I knew about Faerwyvae, with the idea of magic, but then…something happened. It changed everything I thought I knew.”
My throat feels tight as the memory seizes me. Perhaps it’s my worry over Amelie being alone with Aspen, but I can’t shake the images that flood my mind—my sister’s face, eyes alight with mischief as we ran through the woods toward the faewall. It was a perfect summer night, aside from the presence of Maddie Coleman. It was her dare that brought us to the faewall that night four years ago and sent the three of us circling one of the stones to prove we were brave enough to cross the wall. We’d maintained contact with the stone the entire time, holding our breath as we circled it to the fae side, then burst into fits of laughter when we returned safely to the human side seconds later. Our laughter died when we turned to run back home and saw the fae that stood before us.
Lorelei wrings her hands again, and her voice comes out soft. “You can tell me about it. If you want to, that is.”
I consider shaking my head, telling her it’s nothing, but I stop myself. After the vulnerability she shared with me tonight, perhaps I can return the honesty. I take a deep breath. “Four years ago Amelie and I met a goblin, tiny and horrid with sharp fangs and wrinkled, sagging skin. There was no mistaking it was there to cause mischief. We were frozen, terrified and fascinated at the unusual sight. It seemed it was equally fascinated with us. Amelie, in particular. Its beady eyes locked on hers, and she stared right back. After a while, she forgot to blink.”
I remember my horror when Amelie’s face went slack, recall the glint in the goblin’s eyes when he realized he had her under his control. That’s when Maddie Coleman ran screaming, leaving Amelie and me alone with the creature.
“The goblin ordered Amelie to come toward him, and she did. He ordered her to put her hand out, and she did. She paid me no heed as I tugged at her arms, pulled at the sleeve of her coat. All she could do was walk toward the creature, hand outstretched toward his vicious mouth, a placid smile on her face all the while. When he lunged forward to sink his teeth into her palm, I threw a rock, hitting him between the eyes. That’s when Amelie was able to return to herself. We ran, but he chased us, nipping at our heels and shouting after us, saying if he didn’t get a taste, he’d make our insides rot.”
“You got free, though,” Lorelei says.
“Yes. I don’t remember when we could no longer hear him following, when his teeth and claws ceased to graze our heels. By the time we got home, the backs of our dresses were torn to shreds, our voices incoherent as we told Mother what had happened. She could hardly make sense of what we were saying. We just kept repeating that a fae had attacked and cursed us. All she could do was give comfort, tell us we were safe. Then later that night, Amelie collapsed, writhing in pain. She began vomiting, grasping her belly. She was certain the goblin’s curse was coming to take her, insides rotting just like he said. Mother tried to break the curse using tinctures and countercharms. We stayed up all night while she chanted over my sister, trying to purge the curse from her.”
“Your mother is like you then?” Lorelei asks.
I shake my head. “No. My mother’s craft is nothing like surgery, and surgery was what Amelie needed. It turns out, she wasn’t plagued by a curse after all but a very serious medical condition. We only discovered this because I was stupid enough to try to return to the wall the next morning. I wanted to seek out the goblin, beg him to lift the curse from my sister. If that didn’t work, I was prepared to offer myself in her stead. I couldn’t bear to see my sister in pain and would rather die than lose her.”
“What happened? Did you find the goblin?”
“No. Luckily, I was intercepted by Mr. Meeks, Sableton’s surgeon. He saw me in distress heading toward the woods and made me tell him what was happening. Once I told him about Amelie, he insisted on seeing her. He raced home, got his surgery kit, then came to our house. That’s when I learned the power of modern medicine and got to witness true healing. Amelie was never cursed. She was glamoured, yes, but what happened after was nothing more than a coincidence. My sister had developed appendicitis. If Mr. Meeks hadn’t intervened, her appendix would have ruptured, and Amelie would have died.”
Lorelei’s eyes are wide. “I have no idea what an appendix is, but it sounds terrible.”
Her statement shatters my somber mood, and I find myself laughing. She laughs with me, although it’s clear from her expression that she isn’t sure what we’re laughing about. Once I begin to sober, I let out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for listening, Lorelei. That’s not a story I like to tell, but oddly enough, it feels good to have told someone.”
She smiles. “I think that’s what a lady’s maid is for, right?”
“Listening to me ramble on about my adolescence goes above and beyond the duties of a lady’s maid.” If I were ready to admit it, I’d say it falls into the realm of friendship.
“I never thought I’d hear that high praise from you,” she says. “Is there anything else you need from me tonight?”
“No, go ahead and retire. I’ll wait for Amelie to return.”
“Very well.” She offers a curtsy—one deeper than any she’d given me before—then leaves the room.
Once I’m alone, my eyes begin to grow heavy, muscles pulling with fatigue as if I really had performed a surgery. Or perhaps it’s from the story I told. With slow steps, I retrieve my dagger from behind the dressing screen and stuff it beneath my pillow before crawling under the covers.
I’m determined to stay awake until Amelie returns. Then again, what if my suspicions are correct, and she’s been sleeping elsewhere? Will she stay the night with Aspen?
The question makes my blood boil, but it quickly fades as sleep overtakes me.
In the night, I dream.
A dark figure looms over me, teeth sharp and glinting with moonlight as a snarl pulls at his lips. He lowers his face until it’s hovering mere inches from mine. His chest heaves with anger.
It isn’t a dream.
I reach for my dagger, hilt in hand and blade at the figure’s throat. He pays me no heed as Aspen’s voice growls, words rumbling with rage, “Where is your sister?”
Chapter Nineteen
