My gaze traveled over their clenched jaws and drawn brows. The ghost of pain, of loss, still lingered in their puffy eyes, and I sighed. They’d gone through enough already. With an undignified plop, I fell onto one of the chairs and reached for the coffee. Nohr was there within seconds, pouring the life-giving sustenance into a ceramic mug.
“We should toss the couch,” I muttered.
Nohr’s eyes fell, his voice strained. “We can’t afford it.”
“We can’t afford either one of you catching blight.” I stared atthe well-worn frame. The piece of furniture had sat in that exact spot for the entirety of my life and likely years before that. We could’ve done with a new couch, but Nohr was right. Money was tight. “I’ll move the cushions outside for the time being and see what I can do about getting the whole thing reupholstered.” I blew steam off my drink and took a heady sip.
Noam slid a plate of eggs in front of me before returning to the stove. “Mrs.Marlow might be willing to trade her services for some of your remedies.”
I speared my breakfast with my fork and chewed slowly, eyeing Nohr as he dragged another large pot full of water and placed it atop the cast-iron stove. “I fixed Toman’s nose yesterday. She owes me.”
After that, Nohr and Noam joined me at the table and ate the rest of the eggs straight out of the frying pan. The quiet scrape of their forks’ tines against the skillet filled our kitchen. None of us spoke. There wasn’t much to be said, not really. Alec was gone. There was nothing more that could be done.
“We heated water for a bath,” Noam said, twirling his fork against the pan. He’d ducked his head low while eating and now peered at me from behind the tops of his lashes. A peace offering for disposing of the body, no doubt. It worked. “I’ll bring the washbasin in if you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” I blew out a breath as I stood. “Can one of you grab water for my hair?”
Nohr was out the front door and in the garden before I could blink. I wound my way through the small footprint of our house to the back door. One furtive peek through the curtains told me it was safe, and I slipped outside. I was thankful our home backed against the nearby woods, offering us a modicum of privacy for moments such as this. Dyeing hair wasn’t exactly taboo, but it raised questions. Questions were the last thing I wanted.
After handing me a small bucket with fresh water, Nohr retreated inside. Gritting my teeth in preparation for the cold, I dunked my head in the liquid and watched as black ink swirled across the once-clear contents. Later, when time permitted, I’d lather on a different mask to bring the luster back to my matte locks.
Hair dripping down my back, I returned to the kitchen to find Noam and Nohr had brought in a tin tub and placed it before the stove. After they transferred the heated water, I sprinkled the basin with salts crafted for relieving aches and a few drops of oil to help soothe my mind. Noam wrapped me in a one-armed hug and pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head.
“Be safe,” I murmured.
“I’d say ‘you, too,’ but not sure that applies to market,” Noam said with a half-hearted smile. He was trying. Trying to forget what happened last night. Trying to move forward because we had no other option but to keep going. My heart twisted, and I hugged him tighter. Then I motioned for Nohr to join until I had both of them wrapped in my arms.
I would do anything for my brothers. I’d shoulder their grief and work myself to the bone just to make sure they had a chance at happiness. They were all I had left, and they needed me just as much as I needed them.
“See you tonight,” Nohr said.
I gave them one last squeeze and then released them. They were gone in no time, and I blew out a sigh as I quickly undressed. I slid into the scalding water, not caring that it scorched my skin. I wanted to burn away the memory of the blight against my fingers, the scent of mold and decay from my hair, and the leftover residue of grime beneath my nails. I groaned and sunk deeper into the water. I would’ve soaked in the bath for hours, but I couldn’t afford to miss market. So, when the pulsating ache in my muscles finally dulled to a mild discomfort, I eased out of the tub and returned to my room to dress for the day.
Part of me wished Noam and Nohr could go to town instead of me. Everyone liked them. They were generous and warm, and their laughter was the kind of sound that lingered in the air for what felt like hours. A beautiful, inviting thing. It wasn’t as though people particularly liked or disliked me; I just couldn’t get involved. Wouldn’t. My friendships dwindled when my parents died and I had to step into the role of caretaker for my brothers, and I never bothered to rekindle them. Not when, years earlier, I’d seen the town elders notify the Ferngloves about my aunt’s power. She was stolen from us the very next day. All because a child, one of Noam’s friends, had peeked through our window to see if he was home. Instead, he’d watched as my aunt healed my mother’s perpetual cough.
I didn’t blame the child. He told his parents a curious, exciting thing he’d seen. I blamed the elders who reacted out of greed before even considering what it would do to my family to have our aunt ripped away.
Of course, the townsfolk didn’t think it was “bad” to be employed by an Ever. My aunt was “blessed.”
Grumbling wordlessly to myself, I braided my sable hair away from my face and wove in a few tiny white flowers from the baby’s breath I kept potted in my room. Kohl above my lashes, mauve paint on my lips, a hint of rouge—good enough for market. I quickly slipped on a chemise and cotton stockings, fixing them in place with simple garter ribbons. My mother’s corset thankfully still fit, and I secured the front fasteners before tightening the lace at my back. Then a soft skirt and matching burgundy bodice dotted with pearls and embroidered ebony flowers. The ensemble had been my mother’s before she died. I’d admired it for as long as I could remember, but now that I owned it, the feel of it against my skin was both a comfort and a sadness.
Shaking my head, I slid my leather scrap into one of the skirt’s hidden pockets and laced my ankle boots before heading downstairs. I paused only for a moment to glance at the sofa. I’d take care of the cushions after market, but there was still the impression of Alec’s long body pressed into the fabric, an outline of the person who used to exist. I hadn’t known him well, and I thanked the stars for that small blessing.
Setting my jaw tight, I walked to the kitchen. It didn’t take long for me to pack two leather traveling cases full of remedies. I carried all the standards: sleep aids, serums and balms for topical ailments, tinctures for digestion, oils for stress reduction, and, by far one of my most popular requests, performictum—a tasteless powder added to food or drink that when consumed resulted in... bedroom vigor. I also stored some of the more elusive concoctions in the hidden compartment that slid out of the back of the case, but I rarely ever needed those. Some referred to them as poisons. I referred to them as remedies for vengeance. Benign, but memorable.
After fastening the brass clasps into place, I grabbed the worn handles and made for the door. We lived on the fringe of town, which meant the walk to market was a good twenty minutes, and I had only thirty before the bell struck. The best spots were likely already taken. We weren’t fortunate enough to own a carriage, and because the town itself was somewhat small, not many did. The elders, of course, had gilded wagons lined with plush cushions and attendants to drive the horses. But even they saved such extravagant means of travel for longer excursions to neighboring towns.
They should’ve woken me sooner.Noam and Nohr meant well, but their jobs didn’t bring in the same amount of coin as my cures, and they relied on me to keep us going. The leather squeaked against my palms as I grasped my cases even tighter and set off down the main cobblestone road leading to the epicenter of Willowfell. I walked as quickly as my booted heels and laden cases would allow, passing other townsfolk already strolling toward market at a much more leisurely pace. The closer to the center of townI got, the more densely packed the houses became. They crowded one another, trading open plots and fields for closer proximity to the shops and, perhaps more alluringly, the arch.
The twisted structure was taller than any shop in the square, but only as wide as a double-door entry. Barren tree branches with pale, smooth bark had sprung from the earth and knotted together. Several limbs at the highest point curled outward like antlers, and a variety of fowl often perched there but never nested. It was a gnarled passage for travel that only the Evers could use. Because when you possess magic, why bother arriving by carriage?
When the path opened wide to the circular courtyard where the market was housed, I cut across the center, giving the arch a wide berth, and began the arduous task of securing a spot. I would’ve preferred to spend another day rummaging for herbs than fight off other vendors for a prime location, especially when most of these dealers already owned the shops rimming the square. Tables were situated by the leaders of Willowfell in circles around the arch, rippling outward in perfect rows to press against the buildings.
The best spots, the ones nearest the arch, were already taken. I scowled at Milton’s Apothecary, with its wooden awnings and glass doors, as I begrudgingly took a free table along the back row. Milton himself had already set up a display directly in front of the arch, and he’d made certain to claim a handful of other tables littered throughout the market to further push his half-baked remedies.
I could’ve outearned him in a day if I were willing to sell my threadmending services. I’d also be dead, but that was beside the point.
Still, there were a few folks who swore by my work and didn’t mind the higher rates for better draughts—assuming they were able to venture three rows deep before spending their coin. The only table left was one directly to the right of Lysa’s Confectionary, and I hoped the rich scent of freshly baked delicacies would be enough to lure people to my stall. Sighing, I gently hoisted my cases onto the sunbaked surface of the wooden table and undid the clasps. The doors unfolded with the release of the spring, and rows of balms and extracts jutted out in tiered drawers. The more popular cures I kept up top, ensuring their handwritten labels were easily visible.
