Kiela was sweeping the floor when she heard voices drift through the open window—familiar voices, talking as they approached, their words blending like bird calls. Familiar, worried voices.
Wiping her cheeks to make sure there was no evidence of her earlier tears, she hurried outside as Bryn, Eadie, and Ulina emerged from the greenery—Bryn in her baker’s apron, Eadie in another splendid hat, Ulina in her many-sleeve blouse, and all of them with anxious, concerned looks on their faces, as if they didn’t know what they’d find at the old cottage.
Kiela tried to gather herself to welcome them with as much cheerfulness as she could manage, but Bryn rushed forward and hugged her. “You’re all right! We wanted to come yesterday, as soon as the inspector left the bakery, but—”
“I didn’t think it would be wise,” Eadie interrupted. “I’ve dealt with these types before. They see everything as suspicious. If we’d rushed here—”
Bryn cut back in. “We didn’t want to make anything worse for you. But we’re so sorry you had to go through it alone.” She hugged Kiela again. She smelled like fresh bread and cinnamon. Kiela squeezed her back awkwardly and hoped she didn’t have any raspberry on her. She’d been embraced more in these past couple days than in the prior several years. It was . . . nice. Very nice.
They were worried about me. Me, who they barely know. Me, who endangered all of them.“Is the bakery . . . Did Radane . . .” She didn’t know how to ask what she wanted to ask. Did Radane find the pine cone remedies? Was Bryn in trouble? Were any of them? Where was the investigator now?
Ulina patted Kiela’s back with three of her arms. “It’s over now.”
No, it isn’t.She didn’t know how to tell them that there could be worse to come. She thought of the librarian who’d created Caz, who’d most likely burned with the manuscripts and tapestries in the once-beautiful North Reading Room. She wondered if Caz had realized her fate.
Eadie snorted and rolled her eyes at Ulina. “It isn’t over. And if you think it is, then you’re so adorably naïve that I’m going to pinch your cheeks and offer you a candy. You know that investigator won’t give up. She can’t. She sailed into a storm and sank her ship. It doesn’t matter that the empire caused the storms—they don’t forgive mistakes. After a disaster like that, she has to produce a result. Arresting a rogue sorcerer will buy her forgiveness. She can’t afford to fail.”
Ulina asked, “How do you know that? You’re just guessing. When she doesn’t find anything, she’ll leave. She’s not going to manufacture—”
“She took my cookbook,” Kiela said. “As evidence.”
“She was very interested in mine as well,” Bryn said. “Only when I pointed out that baking was my livelihood did she leave them alone.”
Eadie asked, “Your remedies . . . Were they . . .”
“It was my parents’ cookbook,” Kiela said. “None of Caz’s family remedies were in it.”
“Your parents’ . . .” Bryn repeated. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Kiela told herself not to cry again. She didn’t need the cookbook. She had her memories, and they’d been sharper recently than before she came to Caltrey. Losing the cookbook shouldn’t feel so much like losing a piece of her past, but it did.
“And Caz?” Eadie asked. “What did she think of Caz? Investigators aren’t much for nuance or for explanations. My husband and me . . . this was back a few years before he died . . . We’d latched on to this plan to market our work beyond Caltrey, to other islands . . .”
“Eadie’s husband was a woodcarver, and Eadie a painter,” Ulina put in. “You should see the work they created together—beautiful. I have a seagull they gifted me.”
“The third island we visited, an imperial investigator was looking to make a name for himself,” Eadie said. “He claimed we were smugglers. Accused us of stashing illegal mind-altering herbs within our sculptures. He confiscated them and smashed them open, and of course found nothing, but we were in no way compensated. In fact, he charged us for tax evasion because we did not complete the paperwork for the sale of goods—because he’d taken them before we could sell them. My husband wouldn’t carve after that. Seeing his creations destroyed . . .” Eadie sighed heavily. “Oh, we tried to report that odious investigator, but that went nowhere.”
Kiela wasn’t surprised by that. Imperial investigators were nearly untouchable. “I’m sorry for what happened. And for your husband.”
Eadie smiled. “Thank you, my dear. It was a while ago, but I still miss him. Sometimes I sit on my porch and have a chat with him, as if he were still there. Extra bonus: my neighbor can’t stand it when I do that, but I always tell him I’m not talking to him and it’s rude to butt into other people’s conversations. But my point is that I don’t think Radane is done yet.”
“You may be right,” Ulina admitted.
Kiela took a deep breath. “That’s why I need to leave.”
The other women drew closer to her, until Kiela realized they’d encircled her, consciously or unconsciously protecting her from anything beyond them. It felt like an embrace without being touched.
“You’ve only just come home,” Eadie said. “You can’t leave.”
“Absolutely!” Bryn said, nearly a shout. A bird startled on a nearby tree, and Kiela caught a glimpse of its apple-blossom tail as it flew deeper into the forest. “You have a shop, and you’ve already made your mark, which means you belong here.”
“You need to stay with the Pine Cone Coven,” Ulina said.
“Society,” Eadie corrected.
Kiela’s eyes filled, and she blinked hard. “I’m not . . .”
Bryn poked her shoulder. “And what about Larran? You can’t just leave him. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’ll be crushed.”
She felt herself blush. “He doesn’t look at me in any particular way. He’s just a nice person who sometimes feels sorry for me.” Maybe they’d almost had a moment, or almost had a few moments, but that didn’t mean they had any kind of relationship. With her responsibilities, she didn’t have the luxury of that kind of sentimentality. Never mind all the mushy thoughts she’d been having lately. “He’ll forget me as soon as I sail away.”
