Chapter 19

T he following morning, Evelyn left the bathhouse smelling of lavender and sunshine. Birds chirped and zipped overhead, and the sun shone brightly, banishing the cold and rain. She allowed herself a slow, leisurely pace as she made her way through town, pausing to consider the wares and goods available for sale in the windows she passed along the way.

The longer she walked, though, the more the sense of unease grew and swirled in the pit of her stomach. Suddenly she wasn't admiring the blue sky or the gentle calling of gulls in the distance, but rather thinking of how as spring turned to summer, it would soon change from summer to autumn. To the time of the harvest.

She turned away from a bakery's window, where half a dozen loaves of bread sat on a rack, their tops golden brown and cracked. Her steps quickened as she cut through a side alley. Having been in Shieglas for several weeks, she'd learned her way around more or less, though she still relied on crudely drawn maps whenever she needed to make a delivery to a new customer.

Within a few minutes, she made her way to the harbor's post office. The post office stood at the edge of the harbor, its weathered facade a testament to the passage of time. It had been painted blue somewhere along the line, but the salty air had chipped away most of the color. Likewise, the wooden shutters framing the windows looked in need of a fresh coat of stain. A wooden pole stood in the small patchwork garden to the right of the entrance, carved from top to bottom with depictions of ships and seashells and even a spiny sea serpent that wrapped around the middle with a gaping maw of sharp teeth. Fortunately, the beast was carved high enough that no unsuspecting toddler would find themselves coming face to face with it, which Evelyn thought was for the best.

She hurried down the stone pathway, up the steps of the small porch, and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The scent of parchment and ink greeted her, mingled with a hint of the sea as a light breeze wafted in through the open windows. The interior was cozy and inviting, with an abundance of plants and natural light. Rows of wooden shelves filled the space, stacked neatly with the parcels and letters waiting to be dispatched throughout Calendra, as well as beyond its borders.

A large oak desk sat at the center of the room, behind which a middle-aged gnome with round spectacles perched on his nose bustled about, sorting through stacks of envelopes with nimble fingers. "Good day!" the gnome chirped as he glanced up from his work.

Evelyn had been to the post office once before, when she'd sent her initial batch of letters, two to Crownvale Castle, and one to Everspring Glade. Three Caelmorns had passed since, more than enough time for the postal carriages to carry the letter to their destinations and pass through again to collect the replies.

Assuming anyone bothered with replying. She still wasn't convinced Rona would so much as acknowledge her plea for aid.

She did her best to banish her doubts as she approached the gnome's desk. "Good day," she began, "when you have a moment, could you see if there is anything set aside for Evelyn Rosewood? I put in my application for a reserved box, but I'm not sure it's been sorted just yet."

"Of course, Evelyn. One moment, please." The gnome smiled and set aside the envelopes in his small hands. He shuffled over to a wall of small cubbies, and used a stepladder to reach the appropriate one.

Footsteps sounded overhead from the second level, which was accessible by a curved staircase along the opposite wall, in between two huge windows that looked out over the harbor. Evelyn thought if she had a view like that, she would find it very hard to concentrate long enough to get any work done, and would find all sorts of excuses to go down to the shoreline instead.

The gnome made a humming sound to himself, then scampered down the ladder to present her with a solitary envelope. "Here you are, dear."

"Just this one?"

The gnome blinked, then gave a quick nod. "Just that one."

"Thank you," she said, smiling through the bitter disappointment.

"You are most welcome," he replied with a hint of a smile before he scurried back to his desk to resume his work.

Evelyn waited until she was outside to open the letter. The writing on the envelope was clearly written in Odessa's loopy script. It wasn't that she didn't long to hear from Odessa, and likely the other witches as well, but they probably wouldn't have advice to offer.

"There you are!" a voice called from above.

She glanced up as Archie swooped overhead, his form momentarily blocking out the sun, before he came to rest on the fence post near her elbow. He flapped his wings as he settled himself, his head craning to one side to look at the letter. "What's all this?"

Evelyn held up the envelope. "It's from Odessa."

Archie peered up at her expectantly.

"No one else wrote," she said, sensing his unspoken question .

"Oh dear."

"Indeed."

"Well, what does it say?!" he asked, hopping excitedly from foot to foot.

Evelyn,

We were all so glad to receive your letter. We've been worried sick ever since you left. The king is furious with Lady Kilgour for letting you go. None of us are allowed to speak of it to anyone outside the castle. I think he would strip her of her title entirely if he was not worried that such a move would cause further speculation as to the extent of his power.

Things have been strangely quiet, as of late. The king wants to hold a feast for the court, but so far no preparations have been made. I've kept busy in the kitchens, of course. Even in times of unrest, there are plenty of mouths to feed. Merielle was dispatched to bless a river that had gone dry, but as it turned out, the townsfolk just hadn't looked far enough upstream to realize a clan of beavers had clogged the whole thing. Scallop had fun chasing them off, in any case. Tansy has been working to break in a new stallion for the king. Some say he means to ride it into battle, and while Tansy says that's impossible, at least any time soon, that hasn't dissuaded the king from issuing the order to get the poor beast ready.

I hope you won't be upset, but I want you to know we've each written to our covens to gather as much information as we can about blights and their possible remedies. I'll write again as soon as we hear back. Until then, good luck, and be safe.

Odessa

Evelyn sighed when she finished reading the letter to Archie. "I guess if Rona won't help, maybe one of the other covens will, at least."

"Don't give up hope, Evelyn," her familiar replied. "There's still time."

She nodded, but as her gaze drifted out to the sea, she couldn't fully shake the sinking feeling of despair.

Evelyn returned to her shop and set about cleaning her worktable, but her thoughts remained like unruly children, scattering in every direction between each attempted task. Her ideas spun like the wheels on an overturned wagon, spinning, spinning, spinning, but with no purchase.

There was another ache in her chest, too. One she tried very hard not to think about, but as she stood at the window, staring out into the street, she reached out toward where her cloak hung on the wall, and let her fingers trace over the embroidered gildenmoth above the pocket.

As twilight began to close in and banish the streams of gentle sunlight from the sky, Evelyn bottled up the last of a batch of sleeping draught, and mentally added it to the list of remedies to take to the farming village in the morning.

Six bottles of the silvery-blue potion glittered in the light from her fairy moss lantern, and she gave a satisfied nod. At least some good had come from the day.

She put out the fire and pulled the back door closed. She'd kept it cracked while she worked, as it was too warm for the full brunt of the fire's heat in the small space, but as night fell, she needed to keep what she could trapped inside. Nothing in her makeshift kitchen appealed to her, so she fished a rivermark from her coin purse and slipped it into the pocket of her dress before leaving the shop.

Next door, Maeve's shop was already dark, as was Trudy's bait shop across the road. There were no signs of Lorcan or Erwin in the street. Evelyn thought it just as well, as her lingering dark thoughts wouldn't likely make for good company.

Archie, too, had his own plans for the evening. She couldn't blame him, either. He'd tried to cheer her up while she worked at her potions, but when his attempts at conversation were met with slight nods and grunts of acknowledgment, he'd flown off in search of an early supper.

What did it say about a witch when even her own familiar didn't want to be around her?

Evelyn decided not to linger on the question for too long. Instead, she turned her thoughts to dinner, as she'd forgotten to eat most of the day, and a slight tension in her head reminded her she likely hadn't consumed enough water, either, especially in the stifling heat of her shop as she'd brewed and chopped and hauled more water and firewood to and fro.

She avoided the taverns where a bard was playing, in search of someplace quieter, and wound up along the water, in a quaint eatery with fewer than a dozen tables and even fewer patrons. The service was brisk, but efficient, and no one tried to strike up a conversation, which made it perfect for such a night. She ate a bowl of a thick chowder, filled with potatoes and herbs and bits of a chewy meat she thought might be clam. She sopped up the leftovers with a square piece of flatbread, topped with rosemary and flakes of sea salt.

After paying for her meal, she wandered out into the street, but didn't immediately turn back toward Sailcloth Row. Instead, she stepped off the paved street into the rocky sand and walked along the water's edge. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver beam across the harbor. The gentle lull of the waves against the shore provided a soothing backdrop as Evelyn walked, her pace slow. In the distance, near the shadow-draped jetties, she could see the outline of a lone fishing boat bobbing in the distance. A fairy moss lantern hung from the bow, its blue light forming a ring around the vessel, broken only when the fisherman cast out a new line. She briefly wondered what type of fish might be caught at night. Or if they were the same as those caught in the daylight.

She continued around the curve of the harbor, the night air cool against her face. The docks were at her back, and a good distance away, but even still, she could almost hear Coren's voice of warning, for surely he'd have a thing or two to say if he knew she was out wandering anywhere near the docks after the sun had gone down. For whatever reason, his imagined rantings brought a brief smile to her lips.

In the distance, a figure emerged from a shadow, and Evelyn tensed at the person's large frame and quick strides, until they neared and she realized it was Sio.

"Evelyn?" the glassmith called.

"Evening, Sio."

"What are you doing all the way out here?"

Evelyn smiled and continued to close the gap between them. "I could ask you the same. Where's Maeve tonight? She wasn't in her shop when I left, so I assumed she would be with you."

Sio smiled. "Oh, she teaches a sewing class at the town hall every Griamorn. Trudy is probably there, too, heckling and clucking her tongue." A smile worked its way across Sio's dark face, her teeth flashing like pearls in the moonlight. "It drives Maeve batty, but she won't send the old woman away."

Evelyn laughed softly, somehow able to vividly see the scene in her mind, despite never having set foot in the town hall. "I might have to give it a try sometime. My sewing skills don't go much beyond adding the occasional patch to a dress."

Sio glanced at her. "So, who did the embroidery on your cloak then? It looks quite intricate."

Evelyn's heart squeezed. "The protective runes were done by the leaders of my coven. There are five leaders, like points on a star, with one leader above the others." A twinge of bitterness cut through her. "And the gildenmoths on the pockets were done by my mother. They were her favorites. She could stay up and watch them dance above the fire all night." Evelyn ducked her chin, swallowing the lump wedged into her throat. "Witches believe that moths carry messages between realms. And that when they vanish at dawn, they are merely slipping to the other side of the veil of stardust, to visit those who have also passed through."

A moment of silence stretched, broken only by the soft rolling of the gentle waves and the faint music drifting down from one of the taverns near the docks.

"I think that's beautiful," Sio said, her voice thick. "I will think of it when I next see a moth. I lost my sister when I was quite young, and think of her often. "

"I am sorry to hear that," Evelyn replied, her own grief stinging anew. "It never really fades, does it?"

Sio shook her head. "Who is it you lost?"

"My mother. Four years ago."

"Then I am, likewise, sorry."

The women stood, considering the moon and the quiet lapping of the waves. The fishing boat moved toward the docks, taking the ethereal ring of blue light with it, leaving only the light of the moon and stars in its wake.

"Is that what began your travels?" Sio asked. "Losing your mother, I mean."

Evelyn's heart squeezed, wishing she could unburden herself completely. There was something about the strong yet gentle nature of the glassmith that made her feel safe. She did not doubt she could trust Sio, but she held back.

Sio glanced over at her. "I only ask because I know how it feels to be home, and yet not fully there. To live with the memories of someone who is gone. It is not an easy thing."

"Losing my mother changed everything," Evelyn said. "I often wonder if anything will ever feel right again. Or if there will always be this sense that something is missing."

"I understand that." Sio nodded, her eyes shifting back up to the moon. "I cannot promise you it will, of course, but I do find that time helps. At least, as much as anything can."

Another silence stretched, though it was companionable, and Evelyn didn't feel the need to rush to add anything or break it.

After a time, Sio looked over at her again and smiled. "How are things with the shop? Maeve said you've kept yourself locked away working most days."

Evelyn breathed a quiet laugh. "I suppose that's true, although I'm not sure it's doing me any good." Then, realizing how that might sound, she hurried to add, "It's just a lot to consider. I mean, you have a business of your own, so you likely understand. I worry I'm not… doing things the right way, I suppose."

"Ah. Yes. I know that feeling. I'm not a potion expert, but the burn salve you gave me is quite something!" She flashed another brilliant smile. "I'm sure you'll do just fine. In business, as with much of life, the best we can do is chart our path, and follow it as long and true as we can," Sio said. Then, with a shrug of her broad shoulders, she added, "Till we either run into the rocks or find the shore."

She laughed at herself and flapped a hand through the salty air. "Bah! Listen to me. All of Maeve's nautical talk is getting stuck inside my head."

A grin plucked at one corner of Evelyn's mouth. "I suppose there are worse things."

Sio chuckled and bobbed her head. "I suppose. You know, she likes to call me her beacon flame."

Evelyn couldn't hold back a giggle. "That's sweet."

"Oh, yes, sweet enough to rot one's teeth!" Sio barked a full-throated laugh. "So long as she doesn't go around calling me that in public, I let it go. I have a reputation to protect." Her grin widened as she glanced at Evelyn. "I'm the long-standing champion of the arm-wrestling competition they run at The Kelpie's Rest. Imagine a tavern full of half-drunken sailors catching wind that the champion wrestler is called a beacon flame!"

Evelyn snorted a laugh. "I don't know, it could make for a good nickname. Besides, they must know Maeve, and I doubt they'd dare mock her to her face. I've seen the collection of swords she keeps mounted on her wall."

"Oh, yes. She says those are her reminders of another life," Sio replied, her smile softening but not fading completely. "I used to worry that I would lose her to the sea. That one day, she'd wake up, unable to stomach another day stuck in the harbor, watching the ships come and go without her. It was hard for her, at first, adjusting to staying in one place. And then, even when she did, I worried she'd wind up regretting it one day. Regretting me . Or us."

Evelyn listened intently, watching the emotions roll over Sio's face.

"I didn't ask her to change," Sio added, glancing over at Evelyn. "I would have accepted it, had she left. She has to be free to be who she is, the same as anyone. But she never did. I think sometimes the unexpected can be just what we need. Maeve never expected she'd wind up here, and I certainly never dared to dream of finding someone like her! I mean the woman quite literally washed up on shore before my eyes, like some kind of wayward sea goddess."

Sio chuckled, the sound rich and low. "Well, that part might be a bit of a stretch. Truth be told, she'd gone rather gray on account of being half-drowned, and her skin was clammy and wrinkled."

Evelyn gently nudged the woman with her shoulder. "You two are good for each other. That much is obvious to anyone who meets you."

"Aye. And you're good for this town, Evelyn. So trust yourself. The details often sort themselves out when you're where you're meant to be."

A lump rose in Evelyn's throat as she bobbed her head in acknowledgment. She hadn't dared to let herself consider what she would do if she were able to earn her freedom, but standing on the shoreline, under the moonlight, she wondered if perhaps Sio was right. Perhaps Caele had already determined where Evelyn belonged.