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It was the house that reacted first, an ominous creek sounding from the attic. Seren’s magic took on a cold glow. But she kept her silence, allowing Lark to say it all.

“He waited for a few days for the cut on my lip to heal and then took me to the ER. In Baton Rouge, everyone knew him. Everyone knew us. Heck, we had hosted most of the hospital management in our house at one time or another. Most of the surgeons. Magnus enjoyed his position in the city. His connections. So I did not speak. Not to the doctors, not to the nurses. I saw their glances, some of concern, some of pity, some of envy. Magnus was important. Rich. Powerful. Not was, he is, still…”

Lark lifted her free hand and carefully, tentatively ran her fingers through Seren’s hair. She wouldn’t be able to do so for long. Not when everything she had to say was said and out in the open, so she might as well get her fill now. Not that she would ever be able to. What a way to realize that there would never, ever be a time when she’d have enough of Seren’s hair, of her skin, of her voice.

“I lucked out, you see. The initial blood test they ran on me was inconclusive. Nothing seemed terribly wrong. And yet everything was. And nothing fitted, not a symptom. Magnus refused to allow any invasive tests. He refused the vaginal ultrasound because it’s done with a wand… It’s inserted inside…” Lark closed her eyes at the humiliation of the memories. “Nobody asked me anything, nobody questioned him. As I said, he was and still is an important man. And I? I was seventeen. And I was swollen like a balloon, yet no gastrointestinal issues were found. Still, I was bleeding. And not just bleeding, bleeding out.”

Seren let out a quiet sob. Somewhere in the house, a door clicked shut, carefully. Too carefully.

“They sent me to New Orleans. And my luck held. An older Cajun woman was my doctor. She took one look at Magnus and me and demanded that he be removed from the room. Security was called, and he almost dragged me out of the hospital bed, refusing to leave me in her care. Administration was contacted. My doctor fought him every step of the way. She found him disgusting, and she told him so. She called him… She called him many names, and through it all, she tried to treat me. And she refused to listen to him when it came to medical decisions. She did what she thought was necessary, as I was bleeding so badly. Hours later, she brought back a diagnosis after finally insisting on an ultrasound and a CT. She said she’d need a biopsy to be sure, but… A small malignancy… Ovarian cancer.”

Seren flinched, her eyes burning with an intense light, full of concern, full of… Lark finally felt the tears threaten. Seren was looking at her with so much love.

“I had options. It was very early and small, but it was genetic, it turns out. My grandmother, my aunts. All died of it. I hadn’t known. I had watched my aunt waste away while running a house full of fifteen children and never once going to the hospital. Well, turns out she did go. But the treatment, the surgery, the chemotherapy… Who would have taken care of the family? Who would have cooked and cleaned and washed and homeschooled the kids? So they tried to pray it away. She lived for eleven months and was gone like a candle, burnt out too quickly, gutted ahead of time.

“I had several options, some of them even promised the possibility of leading a normal life afterwards. The malignancy was identified early. So the treatment would be effective. Whichever path was chosen. And that’s when Magnus said the two terrible words that had the effect of a prison door slamming shut in front of my face. Fertility preservation.”

Lark gulped, felt her lips tremble, then pushed on. “You see, the protocol for something like that is a full operation. Everything goes. Ovaries, uterus, fallopian tubes, everything. Magnus was not pleased. I knew I’d be black and blue when we got home. It would be my fault. His defective bride. So he sought a second opinion. Then a third. Then the fourth. I don’t know which surgeon exactly fed him those two words, but in some rare cases, mostly when the disease is caught early, and there is no genetic component, and the patient is young, of course, fertility preservation becomes a goal. Magnus was insisting the eggs from my other ovary be collected and my uterus preserved. So I could be bred.”

Lark felt a wet drop on her hand and realized that Seren was crying. Had probably been crying for a while. Crying for Lark. For the Lark of ten years ago, seventeen and alone in a hospital bed with a husband who was debating the quickest ways to get her home, get her over this “God’s trial,” and get her pregnant.

“My doctor came to me late that night. She had been consulting with colleagues, talking with the hospital administration. She still insisted on the total course correction, due to my family history. They all backed her. If there were no reproductive organs, there would hopefully be no disease. I’d be okay. And then there would be no children. I will always remember the way she said that sentence. ‘There will be no children.’ As if she knew. As if she had gleaned under the veil into the depravity of my existence and seen the scars and the fear. Perhaps she had.”

Lark licked her dry lips.

“I told her I’d do anything but that I was seventeen, a minor still. Surely she’d need Magnus to sign the paperwork, or my mother. And that’s when she gave me that smile, the smile of a person who had fought for hours to find an exit door, and when seemingly all was lost, a window opened instead.” Lark’s pulse sped up at the memory. “You see, for a minor, parents are still supposed to make medical decisions, but in my case? I was married and, as such, a full adult in the eyes of the law in Louisiana. I was as good as emancipated. Full medical decision-making rights. Why the doctors in Baton Rouge treated me as fully incompetent and dependent on Magnus’ decision, I will never know, other than assume he either bribed them or they were afraid of him. New Orleans was a different proposition. And my doctor was not afraid.” Lark felt herself smile through tears. She knew that smile was a triumphant one. “Turns out I didn’t need Magnus’s or my parents’ permission to have my uterus, my ovaries, and tubes removed. And according to what she and several other doctors certified, and hospital administration agreed with, I needed that procedure.”

Seren’s eyes were dry now, staring at her with what looked like awe.

“My salvation was called total hysterectomy with bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy. Seren, there was no organ in my body that I would not have cut out to escape him. If they wanted to take my heart, my liver, my lungs, anything, even if that meant death, I’d have signed every single piece of paper allowing them to do so. I’d have cheerfully allowed them dismember me if it guaranteed never again being in the same room as him.”

“You’re unbelievable. You’re amazing. I’m so sorry, Lark.”

“I’m ordinary. I’m just a woman who could no longer bear fists, so I took the first opportunity out, even if it came in the form of a scalpel.” Lark sighed, her shoulders sinking deeper into the soft pillows. The wind outside howled louder, as if keeping her company.

“I thought my inability to have children would get him out of my life. For a short while, I was proven right. Once the surgery was performed, he never set foot in the hospital. A nurse who had family up in Baton Rouge brought the news that he had burned all my things on the front lawn. I felt free. I didn’t care about the physical pain. I didn’t care about the potential need to go on HRT for the rest of my life or whether I’d be able to afford it without medical insurance. I only cared about being free.”

“My mother showed up on the day I was supposed to be discharged. And I felt the executioner lift the axe over me, the gallows planks bending under my feet. She had come to bring me home, while my husband took the time to decide what to do with me. What punishment I deserved for my… ‘obstinance’ and ‘willfulness.’ For ‘disobedience.’”

Lark took a deep breath. The terror of those days, the knowledge of exactly what her punishment would entail, was too real, too close, and she felt shivers run over her body. Seren’s fingers tightened on hers. The magic enveloped their joined hands, flowing over her skin. Water, Seren’s Water, protecting her, calming her, keeping her safe. Lark felt her eyes burn.

Another breath, and she forced the words out. It was time to wrap it all up, to let everything out. To empty the well of misery, of years of secrets, once and for all.

“I ran. Of course, I ran. There was no way in heaven or hell that I would go with her. It would have been like lying down in an empty grave, still alive and waiting for them to throw the dirt on top of me. He’d have killed me. Or worse.” Another sob from Seren was her only answer, and she caressed the sides of her face, tears gilding her fingertips with the gold of Seren’s sorrow.

“I had nothing, no papers except my old driver’s license with my maiden name from when I was sixteen—my father had allowed it only because it was easier for me to drive my baby brothers to football practice—and no money. I came back to the hospital later that night and waited in the parking lot, hoping to catch a glimpse of my doctor. My luck held strong. She took me to a motel in the neighboring county, paid for a week, and left me cash and clothes. She did not return, afraid that they might follow her. Knowing Magnus, they probably did once it became clear that I would not go to my parents’ to await his decision. From Louisiana, I took off east. The first year was the hardest. I kept seeing my mother and Magnus everywhere, and without skills, finding a half-decent job was impossible. And then time passed, and I learned that I could do many things. I washed dishes, swept floors. Slept under bridges and in shelters.”

“You survived.” Seren’s whisper broke Lark’s reverie. She wasn’t there anymore. She was on Dragons. Crow’s House held her safe, shutters closed and windows draped shut and secure around her.

“I did. And yet ten years later, he’s found me. Or his family has.”

“They can’t hurt you, Lark. Not physically. You belong here. On Dragons. In Crow’s Nest. In Crow’s Coven.”

Lark started at Seren’s words. Belonged? She belonged? It sounded wrong. It tasted foreign on her tongue.

“Coven?”

Seren’s eyes were full of tears again, but they did not spill.