Chapter 16

 

When Serah opened her eyes, she wished she hadn’t.

She recognized the sweet, earthy scent of straw, and the embers of a cooking fire before she felt their warmth.

It smelled like home.

Serah winced.

She was curled on a straw mat wedged in a corner, with the woolen cloak draped around her. She sat up and rubbed away the stiffness at the base of her neck.

Something pinched the inside of her palm. When she opened her fist, the moonstone ring fell from her hand. She grasped at the ring and slipped it on her finger. I have to leave before Mother and Father awaken. They mustn’t find me here.

She listened for her parents’ snores before pulling herself to her feet. The alcove where they slept gave the house the illusion of having more than one room.

Serah lifted her arms for balance in an attempt to take steps that were soft and gently placed. The red-orange glow of embers did little to highlight a path to the door. Drops of perspiration beaded across her brow.

A glint of red reflected off the door’s metal lock. I’ll need to raise the latch without making a sound. She raised her hand to the door, but her cloak resisted. Squinting over her shoulder, Serah found the fabric had caught the splintered end of a stool. When she tried to pull herself free, the stool teetered and fell, with the cloak still attached.

She scrambled for the latch, dragging the stool with her. The stool caught the end of a bench and flipped it over, followed by the crunch of pottery and jangle of pans hitting the ground.

“Grendel, wake up! We’re being robbed!”

Serah fumbled with the ties to free herself from the cloak. Her fingers shook, unable to pull the knot loose. She tugged at the fabric and tried pulling it overhead. She barely got it over her chin when it got stuck beneath her nose and earlobes.

She shuddered as two forms approached by candlelight.

“How dare you show up here,” Golda seethed. “Trespassing in our home and breaking our things.”

“I didn’t mean to—I was only coming back to Havenbrim, to find my master—”

Serah let the cloak fall back across her shoulders and around her body, and searched for the locket Machin had given her.

Her hand fell away, empty. The tiny door he gifted me…is gone. She returned her father’s apologetic frown with one of her own. How do I explain where I’ve been and how I showed up here?

With a swift jerk, Golda pulled Serah’s cloak free from the stool, leaving a tear in the fabric, and threw open the latch. “Get out!”

“No, wait—I also have this…” Before she could extend her hand to show off the moonstone ring, her mother had pushed her across the threshold.

Golda’s hand wrapped protectively around a swollen stomach.

Serah blinked. She’s round with child. How much time has passed here?

The door slammed in her face, leaving her staring at a doorplate etched with the letter K.

 

Serah wrapped her cloak more tightly around her and marched to the forest, in the direction of Machin’s cottage. “What will he say when I return?” she muttered. “Will he be disappointed?”

Have I ruined an opportunity?

She clenched her fists. It was a cruel trick. I didn’t belong to the place he sent me any more than I do here. Is happiness unattainable, something simply not meant for me? Her thoughts swam loudly in her head, to the point where she didn’t realize half of them had bubbled over and were spoken aloud.

“Who’s there?” murmured a sleepy voice.

Serah coughed.

A flickering of light brightened and burned blue.

“Graham! I’m sorry to wake you, but—” Her breath left her.

The boy’s features had squared off whatever roundness he’d had left. She looked up into his eyes. They were older, wiser, and he was taller than she’d remembered—a further reminder of passing time. Too much time.

“Serah? Is that really you? I thought you’d forgotten ’bout me.”

“No. I mean, yes but also no.” She sighed. “It is me, but I haven’t forgotten about you, Graham. How could I?”

He shrugged. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you. Machin’s cottage has been shut up and left to rot. No one goes in, no one comes out. I thought maybe you hadn’t kept your promise.”

“My promise?”

He nodded. “I went to visit you, to see how you were doin’, but a woman answered the door and said you were gone.”

“That must have been Gelsey, Machin’s housekeeper and cook. Is she well?”

“We didn’t get far with the niceties. When I introduced m’self, she let on like she didn’t know who I was. She didn’t recognize my name—though you said you’d put in a good word for me.”

Serah’s cheeks boiled with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“But you did mention me? You kept your promise?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t. Everything was new and interesting. I wanted to impress Machin so much that I must have forgotten.”

His eyes lowered to the ground.

“I’m sorry, Graham.”

“I understand.” He pulled a square paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “This must not have been meant for me.”

Serah frowned at the paper, which was more tattered than when she’d first read the message on it: This torch will light the way from your end of the forest to mine. I wish you the best, Machin.

“I will fix this,” she said.

“I ’preciate it, but it’s too late. Like I said, there’s no one there. The cottage is empty.”

Tears prickled Serah’s eyes. “Then I will make it up to you another way.” She tugged at her cloak ties and groaned, still unable to loosen the knot.

“I don’t want your cloak,” he said. “If you don’t feel you need it, you should take it to the pawnshop and trade it for coin.”

“The pawnshop?”

“There’s a new shopkeeper who deals in trinkets and the like. I suspect he takes clothing, too.”

Trinkets?

Serah’s gaze flew to her hand.

Purple and blue light shone through the milky white stone on her ring finger. She grinned. I wonder how much the shopkeeper would pay for this. Perhaps I could get enough coin for all of us—my parents, Graham, and me.