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“Any o’ this lookin’ familiar, Morvoren?” Mrs. Honeysett asked.

Unease eddied in Morvoren’s chest. The view was beautiful—turquoise seas, sapphire skies, grey stones covered in patches of grass—but it glared with unfamiliarity to Morvoren.

“No,” she replied truthfully. She’d never been to Sennen before, so why did it upset her that it didn’t feel like…home?

Perhaps this was a good thing, though. She’d only ever planned for Sennen to be a temporary home, so maybe leaving here would be easier for her to do than it had been for her to leave Tristwick.

“I’m sure the moment ye step foot in the apothecary shop, ye’ll remember everythin’,” Mrs. Honeysett said with a reassuring nod.

Morvoren cringed. Would it be far too obvious if that was exactly what happened to her?

“Do we know where the shop might be?” Mr. Honeysett asked, his voice gruff. Was that from frustration or simply lack of speaking?

“’Ere be someone we can ask.” Mrs. Honeysett pointed to the side of the road where a man in a weathered jacket walked along the path.

They pulled up alongside him, and he stopped with a curious gaze. “Can I ’elp ye?”

Mr. Honeysett leaned forward. “We be lookin’ for the apothecary.”

The man nodded, pointing down the road. “Carry on down ’ere and ye’ll reach the shop on’t left side o’ the street.”

Mr. Honeysett expressed his gratitude, and the man tipped his cap before the wagon rode past him.

Morvoren leaned her head back over the side of the wagon to see farther down the road. Sennen was sprawled out across the cove that was nearly double the size of Tristwick, the houses, cottages, and shops far larger and far more concentrated than Morvoren had expected.

At least she’d be able to blend in more easily with the crowds here. But then, with more people in Sennen, there would be more seiners to hide from.

With her eyes darting from face to face of the inhabitants of the town, Morvoren didn’t notice the apothecary shop until Mr. Honeysett stopped just outside of it.

She drew in a shaky breath. The shop was quaint, with bottles displayed in the windows and a wooden sign sticking forth from the two-story building.

SKEWES’S APOTHECARY

No. 4

She narrowed her eyes. Skewes’s Apothecary? Wasn’t it…

As the Honeysetts readied themselves to leave the wagon, Morvoren pulled open her portmanteau. She’d hoped to enter the building alone, but at the moment, she had something else on her mind.

She rooted around for a moment, finally finding the piece of paper Zennor had given her over a year ago. As clear as day, Prout’s Apothecary was written across the paper.

She eyed the wooden sign again. Perhaps they were at the wrong shop. Perhaps the Prouts’ Apothecary was farther down the road. But then, why would there be two apothecary shops in one location—and why would it have the same address as the one on the paper?

Her heart dropped, and panic flapped in her hollow chest.

“Miss ’Ollow?”

She glanced down at Mr. Honeysett, who stood just at the back of the wagon. He’d helped his mother and sister down already and now stood by Morvoren with an outstretched hand.

Only vaguely aware of how relieved she was to have been wearing her traveling gloves, Morvoren allowed Mr. Honeysett to help her from the wagon, then she stepped away from him in an instant and stared at the shop as if its dark brick and brown paint was part of a great, looming mountain.

It very well might have been, for the very thought of summiting that mountain, of entering through the door was far too daunting. What would she find inside? And more importantly—whom?

“Shall we?” Mrs. Honeysett asked at her side with an encouraging smile.

Morvoren opened her mouth, but no words followed until Mr. Honeysett spoke instead.

“Excuse I,” he mumbled, backing away. “I’ve a job to see to. I’ll return in just a moment.”