I once walked halls like this with my mother when my father was in the hospital, and then alone once my mother got sick. Lady Thalia and Finnick’s presence is a nice reprieve, even though we aren’t here to visit myparents. My parents are long dead back in Grym Hollow. I’m here to learn more about the state of the kingdom and the sickness plaguing their land. What did Niko call it? A curse.
Still, despite knowing the reason I’m here, I can’t shake the images of my parents during their final days. My father got sick first. Cancer, which fucking sucks. I watched his body destroy itself. I’m convinced it’s the reason my mother was never the same after his death. She lost her soulmate.
“Evangeline dear?” Lady Thalia’s voice cuts through the haze of memory like a bell, sharp and gentle all at once. I freeze mid-step, the shadows of my past still clinging to me, reluctant to let go. Her voice tugs me back to the present, and I glance over my shoulder.
She’s no longer at my side.
Lady Thalia and Finnick have both stopped several paces behind me, standing in front of an unmarked door I hadn’t noticed. Their eyes are fixed on me, faces drawn with concern. Lady Thalia’s brow is creased, her lips pressed into a thin line, and Finnick’s shoulders are tense, his jaw set. It’s probably the most serious I’ve ever seen him. They’re watching me as if I might shatter from everything I have seen and experienced since I’ve arrived.
I’m not as fragile as they make me out to be.
“Eva, what were you thinking about?” Finnick jumps from his perch on his mother’s shoulder and flutters over to me. He lands on the tip of my nose, and I go cross-eyed to see him.
“Just…” I hesitate. The words are on the tip of my tongue but won’t take form. My parents were more than words from my lips. Nothing I say can capture the vibrancy they added to my life or the love they showered me in. It’s not that I don’t want to share them with Finnick and Lady Thalia, but I fear anything I say will be inadequate.
Thankfully, Lady Thalia catches on to my internal struggle and clears her throat. “Give her some space, my boy. It’s never easy to be around the sick.”
Finnick scrunches up his face, looking like he wants to argue. After a tense moment, he relents and moves to perch on my shoulder. “Fine. Let’s liven it up with your remedy closet.”
“It’s not a closet,” Lady Thalia argues.
“And I’m ten feet tall,” Finnick mumbles, and I can’t help but smile.
Lady Thalia ignores her son and pushes open the door. A wave of rosemary and chamomile drifts out to greet us, warm and comforting. She beckons for us to follow, and we step inside.
Finnick wasn’t far off when he called it a closet. The room is small—much smaller than the ones we passed on the way here. Or perhaps it only feels that way because every inch of space is crammed with something. Bundles of dried herbs and flowers hang from the low ceiling, their colors faded but still vibrant enough to be recognized. Shelves line the walls, overflowing with jars, books, and tools I can’t name. Mortar and pestles of varying sizes sit on a narrow worktable, alongside small knives, vials filled with powders, and a few softly glowing stones. It’s cluttered, chaotic even, yet it all feelsintentional—like everything has its place in the madness.
“It’s not much to see,” Lady Thalia starts, a warm fondness in her tone. “But it’s like my second home. I spend many hours here. Creating. Learning.”
“Creating and learning what, exactly?” I carefully step farther into the room, not wanting to knock something over or step on something important. The room is cramped for one person and stifling with two. But despite feeling overwhelming, there’s a certain peacefulness in the air.
“Remedies. Learning how to cure the sick. Researching the best herbs for healing. Anything I can do to help.” Lady Thalia sits on a wooden chair hidden behind a pile of books and something that looks suspiciously like a dagger. She pats a spot next to her, gesturing for me to sit.
I navigate the floor like a minefield, doing my best not to step on anything as I make my way to the wooden chair. I sit just as Finnick flies to the table. It’s full of papers and various other tools, and I fear he might get lost in the chaos. Finnick lands effortlessly on a scale, crossing his legs as he takes a seat. The small sprite barely lowers the scale with his weight.
“Have you always been interested in medicine?” Despite the clutter, I’m certain everything in the room has a purpose—each bottle, scroll, and herb exactly where she needs it. I’d even wager Lady Thalia could find anything in the chaos without missing a beat. Her passion for medicinal tonics radiates from every corner, infusing the space with purpose and care.
“Not particularly. I came to it out of sheer desperation,” she admits. “You see, my husband grew very ill quickly. A rare illness amongst the fae that has no cure and very little hope for survival, much like we’re facing now. But, like my sons, I’m a stubborn woman. I refused to let my husband die without trying to save him. With my earth magic, I have an affinity for natural healing.
“I scoured every library, bookshop, and apothecary I could find. Spent countless hours in this room, hoping I could find something others missed. It was quite arrogant of me, but people do impossible things for love.” A soft smile crosses her lips, but her eyes hold a pain I know too well. A pain someone can only experience after losing someone you love and having your entire world turned upside down.
“You did all you could,” Finnick says gently.
His words do little to quell the sadness surrounding his mother, but she gently pats his leg with a finger. “Thank you, my heart.”
I feel like I’m intruding on a private moment between mother and son, and I shift awkwardly in my seat. Should I look away? They probably need some space to sit with their grief. The last thing I ever wanted when I was grieving was to be surrounded by people. It felt suffocating, like I had to comfort them instead of just being left alone to deal with my own pain.
Before I can plan my quiet escape, a gentle hand rests on my shoulder. I lift my head to see Lady Thalia peering down at me. Her eyes still shine with unshed emotion, but her body is relaxed, no longer weighed down by the ghost of her past.
“I didn’t bring you in here to speak of my husband. That was years ago. I hoped to show you what our people are facing and answer any questions you may have. We assumed Ender would brief you about our kingdom, but that doesn’t appear to be the case.” Thinly veiled annoyance undercuts her words.
“He really didn’t tell you anything?” Finnick asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing. There was a contract. I read it over, but it was vague. Maybe I should’ve asked questions, but I was just so eager to…” My voice trails off as I hear how foolish I sound. Of course I should’ve asked more questions. Of course I should’ve demanded answers. What was I thinking, diving headfirst into something so unclear? I feel like an idiot—like I foolishly stepped into the abyss without even checking if I had a light to guide me.
“Eager for what?” There’s no judgment in Finnick’s voice. Only curiosity.
“I wanted to get out of Grym Hollow,” I finally say after a moment’s hesitation. “My parents and I had big plans since I was a little girl to travel the world, live in different places, and try new things. My father wanted to learn how to cook from chefs in different parts of the world. To learn their culture.”
