I swallow the sudden ache in my throat. My eyes wander the landscape, and I realize I’m searching for any sign of glittering blue hidden beneath the trees. Dewberry Lake must be around here somewhere. Not that I want to go. We never returned to the lake after that day when Father saved me from my callous mother, and I’m glad. I hold no love for the fae who so cruelly abandoned me.
I shutter my eyes and force myself away from the window. When I return my gaze to Torben’s, I find him watching me with an expression I can’t read. Every muscle in his body is tense, his eyes wide, his brows knitting together to weave something like surprise. I shrink back beneath the intensity of his stare. “What is it?”
He clears his throat and drags his eyes away from mine. “Sorry,” he says with a shake of his head. “I was…lost in my thoughts. I’m also sorry your mother did that.” He pins his attention on the door at the other side of the room and begins striding toward it. Just when I think he’ll walk away, he pauses under the doorway and glances back at me. “Do…do you know that Dewberry Lake is gone?”
My breath catches in my throat.
He must see the answer on my face, for his eyes turn down at the corners. “There are townhomes there now. The lake hasn’t been there for three years.”
Does that mean…is my mother dead? I hate the way my heart wrenches at the thought. Why should I care? Why should it matter that my neglectful mother is gone? I’d trade her life a thousand times over if it brought my father back.
I force my voice to sound far more playful than I feel. “Good riddance. I suppose that means fewer casualties for innocent lake-goers. You know what I do find strange, though? The fact that you and I must have lived in Larklawn at the same time. For at least a short while. Yet we never met.” It’s an obvious attempt at changing the subject.
Thankfully, Torben allows it. With a sideways grin, he says, “Strange indeed,” before leaving me alone in my room.
22
ASTRID
Iwake covered in a cold sweat, my body racked with tremors. It takes me several moments to figure out where I am. This isn’t my bedroom at Department Sloth, nor is it the room I shared with the Huntsman at Lust. Thoughts of Torben clear my head slightly.
That’s right. I’m at Davenport Manor. In his room. His bed.
I barely recall having fallen asleep, only that I was overcome with a massive wave of fatigue just before nightfall. I knew where the sudden exhaustion had come from; I was suffering from lack of Crimson Malus. Even before then, I was keenly aware that I’d need to come up with a way to replace my tincture—and fast. I’d planned on slipping out of the manor when Torben was preoccupied so I could search for the fae fruit. But by the time Torben finished seeking out fresh sheets for the bed and handing me a meager meal of provisions he’d brought with us from the hotel, I was hardly able to move. All I could do was climb into bed and close my eyes.
Now that I’m awake, I regret having given in to slumber before I could locate Crimson Malus. I regret that my tincture was shattered. I regret—
A wave of memory washes over me. Of my vial crashing to the ground. Of the sorrow I felt afterward as I was forced to feel the pain of my father’s death all over again. Of my anger at hearing Marybeth’s confession. I feel those same emotions roaring through me now. Grief, rage, pain, hatred. I squeeze my eyes shut and turn on my side, burying my face in the musty pillow as if that will extinguish the unwanted feelings. All it manages to do is send my stomach roiling.
I bite my lip and wait for the nausea to pass. When it does, I’m left coated in even more sweat than before, soaking the sheets beneath me. I whimper at the discomfort.
A gentle weight lands on my shoulder. I pry my eyes open to see little Natalie climbing on me. My heart softens, as do the sharpest edges of my pain. I reach a trembling hand to pet her and feel a slight glow of relief burning through my swarm of emotions.
That’s all I need. Just a little relief so I can do what I need to do.
Biting my lip against a pulsing ache shattering my skull, I lift Natalie from my shoulder and push myself up to sitting. Even that small motion makes my bones feel weighted with iron, but I make myself rise to my feet next. I rub my arms against the chill, but I’m not sure if it’s the air that’s cold or something inside me. In contrast, every inch of my skin is hot with fever.
My stomach churns again as I slowly shuffle toward the window. I glance out at the night sky, the landscape bathed in shadows and moonlight. Somewhere out there must be a Crimson Malus tree. There must be. Now that I know where we are—in the very place I was born and not far from the city where I lived with Father for the first few years of my life—I feel confident I can find a tree. I know what they look like. They aren’t exactly rare, although they are like a needle in a haystack amongst the cherry trees the Spring Court is famous for.
But…but I can find one. Imustfind one. I’ll wander the woods all night if I have to.
Steeling my resolve, I make my way to the foot of the bed where a chest stands. Upon it, Torben left one of the suitcases he’d brought with us. It contains clothing he must have collected earlier this morning when I was still asleep. I don’t have the patience to dig through everything and fully dress, so I grab the first practical thing I find—a silk robe—and wrap it over my nightdress. Then I gather my shoes, but I don’t put them on. Instead, I carry them in one hand and cross the room to the door on silent feet.
What isn’t so silent are the two mewling kittens circling my ankles. Were my situation not so dire, I’d reach down and pet them. However, I’m not sure I’d be able to do so without toppling over. Every step I take feels tenuous. So, as gently as I can, I scoot them away with my foot and sneak out the door, closing it behind me. Mama Cat and the other two kittens are snuggled up somewhere in the bedroom, so I don’t feel too bad for closing them inside.
My progress is slow as I traverse the stairs. Sweat continues to bead over my skin, and now and then I’m struck with another wave of nausea. Eventually, I make it to the bottom without falling and breaking my neck. The next part, though, will require even more care.
I tiptoe down the foyer, heading straight for the front door. I’d prefer to use a back door, or any entrance not so near where Torben sleeps. Why he insisted on sleeping in the parlor while he put me in his former bedroom is beyond me. Perhaps it’s to be close to the front door—the only entrance no longer boarded up—and able to quickly defend the manor should Queen Tris send anyone to see if we’re here. The thought should have me scurrying back to my bedroom, both in fear of what could lurk outside at night and the fact that Torben might spring awake at the first sound of the door opening, but I’m too desperate to care. Too determined to stave off the emotions that threaten to crush me. I think the only reason they haven’t yet is because I’m too preoccupied with what I’m doing. Or perhaps it’s anticipation over Crimson Malus that has me keeping myself from falling apart.
I slow my pace as I reach the open door to the parlor. Holding my breath, I glance inside the room and find Torben sprawled over a sheet-covered divan. He’s too large for it, with one leg hanging off the side, his foot planted on the floor. One arm is propped behind him while the other dangles off the edge. I watch him for a few heartbeats more, finding nothing to suggest he’s awake, then finally continue toward the door. My heart slams against my ribs as I reach it. With careful movements, I set down my shoes and slide my feet into them. Then, extending a hand, I grasp the door handle.
Please don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up.
My main solace is my memory of how soundly Torben had slept the first night we spent at Lust. He didn’t wake until I was halfway on top of him with my hand in his pocket. Even when he did wake, his eyes were still closed as if he’d only reacted from partial wakefulness. If it took that much to only half wake him, surely turning the door handle now—
“What are you doing?” Torben’s voice comes from just behind me, too loud for the quiet foyer.
With a start, I whirl around. I was wrong in my assumption that he wouldn’t be easy to wake. His eyes are wide open, his expression stern. The fright at having been caught is too much for me. My knees give out and I have to prop myself against the door to keep from sliding all the way to the ground. “What are…you…doing?” I say through chattering teeth. And how did he come up behind me so fast? So quietly?
