CHAPTER FIVE
I was waiting at the kitchen table when Father returned to the house.
“I need to talk to you,” I said.
He paused in the hallway, distracted. “Can this wait?”
“No, it can’t.” My heart thundered with nerves.
His attention snapped to me. “What is it?” he said, alarmed. “Are you all right? Tell me you haven’t touched—”
“No!” I said, louder than I intended. “Of course not.”
“Oh.” He came into the kitchen, shrugging off his coat. “Well?”
I searched his face, seeing only impatience. Had he truly been lying to me my entire life?
“What is the Mundane?” I asked.
His jaw tightened. “You spoke with the girl? I told you not to—”
“And why not?” I interrupted, noting that he hadn’t contradicted me. “Don’t I deserve to know about it?”
I waited, expecting him to snap at me again. Instead he was silent for a long time. Finally, he sat down across from me and let out a heavy, exhausted sigh. “You’re asking about dangerous things, Lena.”
“I don’t care. Tell me the truth.”
He looked down. “The Mundane is the world we live in. A place without magic.”
“But there’s another place,” I said. “Someplace with magic. Inside the Silence… and on the other side?”
He shot me a sharp look. “What exactly did she tell you?”
I was sure he would gauge what to say based on my answer, and it made me furious. For so long I had thought myself an aberration in a world where magic didn’t exist. Now he was admitting to me that wasn’t true—that all this time, he had known there was more to the world. Someplace where perhaps my curse could be lifted. And he had kept it from me.
My hands clenched into fists. “What does it matter what I heard? Why can’t you just tell me the truth?” I spat.
“You are a child, Lena. I am trying to protect you.”
“I’m nearly eighteen,” I shot back. “And it’s been a long time since I was a child.”
“That is irrelevant. You may know the world is a hard place, but you’ve never seen beasts like those that inhabit the Silence.”
“But if there’s magic there, maybe there’s someone who could help me!”
He slammed his hand down on the table, and I jumped. “That is impossible!”
“How do you know?” I said. I stared down at my hands. “You’ve suffered being my father, I know that. But not the way that I have suffered. How could you know about such a place and not at least try?”
“Because I know the Silence, and the people who live there.”
“How?”
“Because I lived there. Is that what you want to hear? I was born on the other side of the Silence, and yes, magic can be wondrous. But you’ve never seen what it can do when put in the hands of evil people.”
“Like the witch?”
“Worse.”
What could be worse than what I already knew of magic? “But if there’s a chance to break the curse—”
“There isn’t,” Father said. “And this conversation is over.”
No. No, this couldn’t be it. Not when I felt as though a door had opened for the very first time. I grabbed his arm as he started to stand. “Father, please!”
He shook me off. “Believe me, I wish there was a way to break the curse just as much as you do. But there isn’t.”
“So you would just have us live this way forever? Father, I—I can’t.” As soon as I said it, I knew it was true. I couldn’t go on like this. Not anymore.
“You can. Because this is what keeps you safe.”
I was crying now, and I couldn’t stop. “Safe? I’m only safe until the next mistake. I’m only safe until the witch finds us—and what then?”
Father’s expression turned stricken. “I love you, Lena,” he said, speaking softer than before. “And it’s because I love you that I forbid you from going to the Gather or anywhere else in the Silence. You will not go there, not so long as I am alive.”
I pushed back from the table and ran—out of the house and across the field, until I came to the lake that marked the village’s northern border. I stood there, shivering as the wind blew up off the water. In my haste I’d forgotten my cloak.
Miranda’s net was in my pocket. I took it out and held it up to the light, studying the way it shimmered. Everything that Miranda had said was true. I didn’t know my father at all. He’d lied to me about everything. And now, was he lying about what I might find in the Silence?
Rain began to fall, pattering against the surface of the lake. Soon I would be soaked through. I closed my eyes, dreading the thought of returning to that house and pretending to my father that everything had settled back into its place. My father had tried to keep me safe, but that safety was an illusion. It always had been. For most of my life I’d been consumed by the terror of dying at the hands of the witch. I’d despaired over what my curse made me, and tasted bitter guilt over the lives I’d taken and destroyed. I could not bear it any longer. I might die within the Silence—but if I stayed here, I would surely die standing still.
What do you want?
Something snapped within me. I closed my fingers tightly around the net and opened my eyes, turning my gaze toward the Silence. Miranda was right—it was my future at stake. I had made my decision. Whatever the dangers, I would survive them. Whatever my destiny was, I would meet it head on.
The scent of warm cinnamon greeted me as I opened the door, and I knew immediately what my father was making: queen’s cakes. Our family had little in the way of yearly traditions, but Father had made these airy cinnamon-sugar cakes on birthdays for as long as I could remember. I’d burned my tongue more times than I could count, snatching cakes off the skillet before they’d fully risen. My mother had clucked her tongue at my impatience. She’d preferred to wait until the cakes had cooled and Father had drizzled orange-honey glaze over their tops. The glaze was delicious, of course, and queen’s cake was unfinished without it. But to me there had always been something irresistible about biting down on a fresh cake and puffing too-hot air out of my mouth. That Father had made them now, without occasion, meant he was trying to make peace. To apologize, without saying the words.
I hesitated. I didn’t want to go into the kitchen. I could hold on to my resolve as long as I was alone, but I was afraid that the moment I saw him, the truth of what I’d decided would come pouring out.
Before I could make up my mind, Father came out of the kitchen with a plate. On the plate were six fresh cakes and a sliced apple, arranged to look like a flower.
I couldn’t look at it without tearing up. But I couldn’t look at him, either.
“Here,” he said gruffly. He pressed the plate into my hands. “I know you think I’m being unfair. I’m sorry.”
I only nodded.
I took the plate up to my room and changed into dry clothes. The rain was coming down harder, pounding against the window until the field outside was just a blur of green through the wet glass. For a while I sat in silence and wept.
When I could cry no longer, I wiped my cheeks with my sleeve and ate the queen’s cakes one by one. When I was done, I packed a small bag and hid it under my bed. It was easy to do. Years of practice enabled me to go through the motions almost without thinking. And I needed that now, because if I stopped to think, I might never leave.
I spent the next two days in fear of giving myself away. The enormity of the decision I’d made was so overwhelming that at any moment, it felt as though I was mere seconds from flying apart completely. So I did my best to stay out of Father’s way, jumping at every shadow and shift of the house. For his part, he made sure to keep me away from Miranda’s door, though I was glad to see that he brought her regular meals and fresh bandages.
On the morning Miranda was due to leave, I heard Father unlock the door. I stood at the top of the stairs and watched her walk out of the room with a slight limp, her red hair shining in the lamplight. She looked up at me, and my heart thumped painfully in my chest at her impassive expression. Had she changed her mind? Had I dreamed everything that had passed between us?
She nodded almost imperceptibly, and relief flooded through me. I raised a hand in acknowledgment. Then she turned and was gone.
As soon as the door closed behind them, I ran to the window and watched their progress toward the Silence. They walked slowly. I wondered if they were talking, and if so, what they were talking about.
But as soon as they parted ways and Father turned around, I realized I’d been so preoccupied by my nerves that I’d failed to anticipate the obvious: once he came back in the house, he wouldn’t let me out of his sight.
I locked the bedroom door behind me. With luck, he would assume I was sulking, at least for a few hours. I opened the window facing the back of the house and threw my bag out onto the damp grass. Then I swung a leg over the windowsill and turned, lowering myself down until I hung by my fingers. My feet dangled over the hedges planted against the side of the house. I wasn’t too high above them… I hoped.
But it was too late to haul myself back inside. I held my breath—and let go.
I hit the hedges and tumbled to the ground, jarring my back painfully. I lay still, my ears ringing, as the shock of impact dissipated. Then I pushed myself to my feet. I scooped up my bag and pressed myself against the side of the house, listening intently.
Soon enough I heard the front door open and close. It was time to run, but I couldn’t make myself move.
All the thoughts I’d held at bay suddenly flooded me. What if this was a mistake? I knew nothing about being on my own. I knew nothing about the Silence, or the world that lay on the other side. I was putting my life in Miranda’s hands. And my own, I reminded myself. If this was a mistake, it was mine to make. My life to take.
I put one foot firmly in front of the other—and then another, and another. And then I was running, my breath shallow and fast, my heart thumping in my chest until I had made it across the field and found Miranda waiting for me just before the trees.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to come,” she said. She had a small bag slung over one shoulder—my father must have given it to her.
“Me either,” I replied truthfully.
“Are you ready?”
I snorted. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”
She smiled, and that smile was like sunshine. “No one is ever truly prepared for the Silence.”
I looked past her, staring into the dark trees. “What will we find inside?”
“To enumerate the dangers would take days, and I don’t even know them all,” she admitted. “Once we’re inside, we make for shelter. Hopefully the Wolves are long gone, but in the event they aren’t… we may have to run. Or fight.”
I swallowed, hard. “What makes you think the Wolves won’t be waiting for us?” Not to mention whatever else was lurking beneath the branches of the Silence.
“Magic doesn’t work the same way in the Mundane. The Wolves can’t cross the border, so they don’t like to linger here. And it’s been two days—they probably grew tired of waiting. We should be all right.”
I wanted to trust her confidence. But still…
“Come with me,” she said, as if she could see my resolve wavering. She held out a hand.
I hesitated. Even though I was wearing my gloves, there was always a risk. And yet here she was, offering a hand to hold while knowing exactly what would happen if our skin touched.
I held my breath as I lifted my hand. She reached out, matching her fingertips to the fingers of my glove. Her featherlight touch, when it came, shot sparks through my body. She folded her hand carefully around mine and I tensed, afraid to move, and—
There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of her hand in mine as we faced the Silence together.
“Lena!”
No. I flinched and dropped Miranda’s hand, turning to see Father sprinting across the field toward us.
I looked back at Miranda. Her expression was eerily calm. “Do you still want to come?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Lena!”
The desperation in Father’s voice pierced through me, but I forced myself not to look back again. I grabbed hold of Miranda’s hand once more. “Let’s go!”
We ran forward, into the Silence. A sudden wind rushed by, whipping my hair about my face. The trees swayed, branches lashing through the air. Miranda’s hand tightened around mine.
The sounds of crashing reached my ears, as though something heavy was breaking through the underbrush. I chanced a glance back and stumbled to a halt in shock. The forest—it was moving. The trees behind us shifted before my eyes, snapping together like a gate slamming shut. The field disappeared from view.
The Silence had swallowed us whole.