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Trevik stormed past him. “It’ll pass. ’S’cuse me, Edern.”

The old man’s spindly eyebrows shot up in surprise, then they scowled once again as he looked to Morvoren.

Typically, she would reserve her kindest of smiles for the man, hoping an extra dose of sugar would help him realize she truly was nothing to worry about. But that morning, she didn’t have the patience.

She shook her head, delivered an audible groan, then strode straight past him, arriving at the Honeysetts’ door just moments after Trevik.

“Where be Poppy?” Trevik asked, removing his cap.

Morvoren followed him inside, shutting the door behind her as Mrs. Honeysett came out from the kitchen with a sorrowful look.

She glanced warily down the corridor, then continued in a softer voice. “She don’t want to talk, Trevik.”

Morvoren stood near the doorway, wiping water from her brow. This was not how today was supposed to go. How could she tell the Honeysetts about her uncle if they were all upset with her for only trying to help Poppy?

“What ’appened?” Trevik asked, his back turned to Morvoren. Whether he did so on purpose, she couldn’t say.

Rain slapped against the windows in the sitting room, but Mrs. Honeysett spoke all the quieter, wiping her hands dry on a spare cloth. “She told Lieutenant ’Arris ’ow she felt about ’im. ’E thanked ’er, but…that ain’t the response ye want after pourin’ your ’eart out to another.”

Morvoren’s heart ached for the girl. Had she truly been the cause of it? Should she have told Poppy to keep her feelings to herself?

Regret mounted before her, an incredible elevation she couldn’t hope to surface—especially when Trevik turned to face her. Rainwater beaded down his face, his scowl ever fierce.

“See what ye’ve done?”

His words sliced through her defenses, rendering her speechless.

“Trevik, what are ye goin’ on about?” Mrs. Honeysett asked at once, but Trevik ignored her.

“Ye couldn’t leave ’er be, could ye? Ye ’ad to meddle in ’er life, just as ye’ve meddled in everyone else’s ’ere in Tristwick.”

Lightning flashed outside, lighting the Honeysetts’ home, but a darkness entered Morvoren’s soul.

“Trevik,” his mother warned, but he didn’t stop.

“I was tryin’ to help her,” Morvoren said, her voice muted as thunder cut her off. Lightning continued flashing out of the window, a constant flicker of brightness in the otherwise muted colors outside. “I only wanted her to have the chance to choose her own life away from—”

“From Tristwick?” he finished for her. Another flash, another clap of thunder. “From fishermen? When are ye goin’ to realize that not everyone needs a life away from we? That not everyone be as prideful as ye?”

He spat the word out with disgust, and it slid down Morvoren’s conscience, tainting her soul. Another blinding light lit the area around them, thunder not hesitating a moment to follow directly after.

Prideful? He’d called her prideful? Trevik knew pride hadn’t kept Morvoren from respecting fishermen. Her uncle and Father had.

“How could you—”

“Trevik!”

Mrs. Honeysett’s exclamation cried out above another clap of thunder, and they turned to face her.

Instead of her eyes upon the two of them, arguing like the children they were claiming not to be, she focused out of the window.

In turn, she and Trevik faced the glass, as well, and Morvoren’s heart dropped as smoke billowed up from the cliffside.

“The lugger?” Mrs. Honeysett asked.

But Trevik was already on his way out of the door.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE