4

Olivia runs to catch up with her brother. “Jadon, stop.”

Despite the cramping around my ribs, I forge ahead after them, recoiling as I walk barefoot on slimy dirt and sharp pebbles. I wish I had my clothes, or even just my boots.

The rest of Maford unfolds before me. I may not remember where I came from, but I know that I’ve never seen a village like this. Maford couldn’t have always looked and smelled this rank. Right? Straw- and timber-built shops lean into one another like bitter old men and gossiping hags. Peeling paint and warped wood tell tales of neglect and misfortune. Over there sits a tavern that stinks of stale ale, and beyond it, a schoolhouse with hay poking out of its two windows like spiky innards. The rain has brought out a new odor—damp stone combined with decaying wood—and it lingers above the stench of death.

These villagers may not be able to fix every shop and home, but they could certainly clean up sheep shit and maybe even stow trash in one dedicated space. If it rains hard enough, maybe floodwaters can knock everything down so that they can start over.

One can hope.

One can also hope that I’ll be long gone before this place is wiped off the map.

Olivia is still trying to calm Jadon. “Relax, brother. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Jadon’s head snaps her way, his worry lines etched even deeper into his forehead. “Any time you say that, it means it’s definitely that big of a deal.”

Olivia stomps ahead of us.

For several moments, Jadon and I walk in silence, side by side. I’m uncomfortably aware of this man, so dichotomous to these pitiful surroundings.

“Charming town you have here,” I say finally, wearing a sarcastic smile.

His gaze, so moody and sullen, meets mine and instantly changes. A muscle in his jaw flexes. Any minute now he will burst into flame. And honestly, I might join him. But then his hand finds his hair again and he exhales. So maybe no flames after all.

I lift my chin and try not to laugh. I’ve got him all worked up and confused, and we’ve only just met. I don’t plan on staying in this town longer than necessary, but maybe we’ll have a good time before I leave. “That was a joke,” I say. “I think a cemetery placed in a swamp is more charming than Maford. And you…”

He finally cracks a smile, and his eyes spark. “Not charming enough for you?”

“Can you both button your breeches, please?” Olivia snaps, waiting for us.

Without another word, he marches ahead, his sister hot on his heels.

As much as I want to enjoy watching him stomp away, though…

Geld. I need it. My amulet. I want it. This place. I hate it.

Just thinking about working for anyone in this town makes me boil. How long will it take to do what I must before I can leave? Maybe I can take my shit without anyone knowing and slip into the night like a phantom. Let the true culprit in all of this, Olivia, figure out how to pay off that twelve geld.

I follow the siblings to a grove of blue firs near the edge of town. I hear Olivia saying, “…couldn’t let her stay there.”

We’re heading toward a stone house with a thatched roof and a dying flower bed. Another stout dwelling squats beside it, smaller than the house and covered with soot. The yard is also covered with soot, and black dust has settled on every surface, including the small circle-with-paddles nailed above the barn doors.

“Jadon,” Olivia continues, her voice prickly, “are you even listening to me? We may be poor right now, but we’re not despicable. You know what unspeakable things Narder does to some of his prisoners. Were we supposed to just let her rot in that place?”

Jadon shoots his sister a glare, then looks back at me. “I don’t want you rotting anywhere. Please don’t think that. It’s just…complicated.” He nods at Olivia. “And she knows it.” His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. “I’ll get blankets.” He heads to the nicer cottage.

Wide-eyed, I ask, “What unspeakable things does Narder do to prisoners?”

Olivia grimaces. “Didn’t I just use the word ‘unspeakable’?”

I hear her thoughts, though, and those things Narder does to some of his prisoners are so unthinkable that I shiver in horror. Those poor souls locked in that horrendous jail. “Why won’t someone stop him?”

“We’ve tried, but everyone’s scared of him. You saw how no one spoke up. How no one stopped him from grabbing you like that. Jadon’s come close to killing Johny a few times, but he doesn’t want me in danger if something happens to him.

“ And ,” she continues, “Narder arranges for the wanderweavers to include us on their market routes. They’re a traveling market, basically, and they bring us food and goods, and we sell things in return. Sometimes, I sell a few of my dresses. My brother’s a blacksmith. From spoons to swords, Jadon Ealdrehrt crafts the finest tools on this side of Aldon Lake, but since no one’s around to help him at the forge, he can’t take time off to go purchase supplies at another village. We’d starve and freeze to death if it wasn’t for the wanderweavers, so—and it pains me to say this—Narder has to stay.”

The wanderweavers . A thought flares in my mind. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I was traveling with them, and bandits were robbing my group, and I tried to escape, but one bandit caught up to me, and we fought, and he hit me on the head, I blacked out, and he left me for dead.

My skin flushes, and I look back to the village square and those traveling merchants plying their wares. Maybe that’s why my clothes are fancier and brightly colored. Because I roam from one town to the next with a caravan of wanderweavers. But if I’m one of those merchants, someone would’ve recognized me. I do stand out. Someone would’ve fought for me and demanded my freedom. They would’ve pooled their geld and paid my bond.

That didn’t happen, though. The wanderweavers looked at me like the villagers had: a giant near-naked stranger chasing a tiny, sickly villager from cart to cart.

No, these merchants can’t be my companions. I need to leave as soon as possible. Maybe I will slip out tonight… I point at the gloves on Olivia’s hands and the boots on her feet. “I’m taking back my things. Every single item. If that means more handprints around someone’s neck, then so be it.”

Olivia curtsies, then says, “Of course.”

“Do you mean ‘Of course’ as in ‘You’ll get your clothes back’? Or do you mean ‘Of course you want your things because everything you had on was really nice’?”

I can’t determine her intent. How honest can she be wearing someone else’s boots?

Olivia tousles her hair. “I mean of course we’ll return your things after you’ve earned the twelve geld. I know: It’s awful how all of this turned out, but the law is the law, and we can’t afford to have you running off. However!” Smiling, she holds up a finger before I can protest. “I’ll let you borrow some of my clothes in the meantime. They’re almost as fancy as yours.”

Hearing the thoughts of others—this gift of mine courtesy of the woman with the silver glow—would be a glorious trick if there was also a bullshit-truth-telling crystal built in. Guess I can’t have everything.

“And I’ll even wash your clothes before I hand them back,” Olivia offers. “Can’t have you walking around in muddy leather, can we? I must admit—I felt pretty audacious wearing all your things. This weird energy was rushing through me, like I could lift a house and eat thirty chickens, and I felt my scalp tingling like my hair was being stretched, and I don’t think I would’ve been able to stand in front of Johny and Narder demanding your freedom if your cloak and vest and moth charm hadn’t made me feel invincible .”

Her neck blazes red as she meets my gaze. “Is that how it feels to be you? Invincible?”

I blink at her, fists balling at my sides. “I wouldn’t know, since I don’t have my cloak and vest and moth charm at the moment.” Deep down, though, I do know. If that cloak was just a cloak, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. If that pendant was just some random piece of jewelry, I wouldn’t have risked being assaulted by two despotic shitbags. An ordinary pair of boots wouldn’t pull at me the way these boots are pulling at me right now.

Olivia only says, “Hmm,” and points past me. “That’s the barn. You can stay there.” She isn’t pointing to the nicer cottage with the cute yellow window curtains.

I cough and choke out, “There?”

There is where sharp, pointy, dangerous things hang from hooks, dangle from stands, and rest near an open firepit. There is where an anvil lives, looking heavier than all of creation and blacker than the space between the realms. There is where all things smell burned and sulfurous, wood-smoked and dirty. There’s a waterwheel behind the barn, but it doesn’t turn—there is no water. It’s as useless and broken as the rest of this place.

Olivia follows my gaze. “You’ll sleep in the loft over the forge. Jadon won’t be too much of a bother. He’s usually more polite than he’s acting at the moment. But he also gets cranky when he’s frustrated or hungry or breathing, so please excuse his bad manners. We were raised better than that. Well, I was raised better than that.”

I ignore her, since she’s still wearing boots that she stole from me as I was passed out in the woods, and is that something her parents would be proud of? But I don’t ask any of this. Instead, I focus on one of those wooden circle-with-paddles above the doors of the shack I’ll be occupying. “Tell me, what is that?”

She turns to see what I’m looking at and scrunches her eyebrows. “Seriously?”

I blink at her. Well, what is it?

“It’s a colure.”

“What does it signify?”

“The three sculls up top represent man in his three states: baby, adult, old. The two sculls beneath represent animals and nature. Dogs, bears, mountains, lakes. The circle in the middle is the emperor, supposedly. And the big scull at the base, holding everything up, is Supreme. Naturally.” She pauses, takes a breath, then continues. “You’ve heard the fable. Excuse me, I mean, the very true account of the realm’s very beginnings, yes?”

I shake my head. “No.”

Confused, she squints at me. “Where the heck are you from, then? Everyone everywhere has heard the story.” When I don’t respond, she shrugs. “Well, according to Emperor Wake…” She dramatically clears her throat. “In the beginning of the world, Syrus Wake was born, the first child of the original man and woman. And because he is the long-living, immortal firstborn of the first race, he is to be worshipped.”

She glances at me, clearly enjoying her role of storyteller. “Not only that, he claims that the entire realm of Vallendor is his birthright, and so he has declared that, as emperor, he is the center of the colure and that his empire of Brithellum—which is north of here—is the holiest place in the entire realm. All those who disagree, including the kings and queens of the still-free provinces across Vallendor, are usurpers, and they must be defeated and the people converted.”

Olivia pauses, brushes some stray hairs from her forehead, then adds, “Not one ruler believes this, by the way. Maford falls under the reign of the Vinevridth province, ruled by King Exley, and he refuses to bend the knee. Most people here in Maford don’t believe the emperor is really Supreme, but there are a few who do, and they’re powerful. Father Knete, he’s a true believer, as is the mayor. I’m sure there are other spies around.”

She flicks her hand at the colure. “You see these everywhere so that Maford can exist in peace so that if— when —Wake’s men come, they might not be as violent.”

“So you’re surrendering to Wake before he even arrives?” I ask, frowning.

I can’t imagine refusing to fight for what I believe in, and giving up before the fight even begins. How pitiful is that?

“We’re just a hundred or so people,” Olivia says, looking slightly embarrassed. “Very hungry and sick people. We can’t defend ourselves from an army as big as Wake’s. He’s unmatched in might.”

I narrow my eyes. “So believe in me or die?”

“Yes.”

“And he thinks that divine power works like that? That someone’s fear of dying is better than someone choosing to believe?”

She snorts. “You’re asking questions like you’re brand new to Vallendor.”

My face flushes. I don’t remember any of this, so, yeah, in a sense, I am brand new. “I just wanna know what kind of town I’m in.”

“Ah,” she says, squinting at me. “Any more questions?”

“Before Wake declared himself the center of the colure,” I say, “what did the colure represent?”

Olivia shakes her head. “The colure didn’t represent anything if you chose not to believe. People did their own thing. Prayed to whoever they wanted to pray to.” She moves closer to me and whispers, “Some people who shall go unnamed still have other talismans up. Blue eyes, carved pieces of ivory, small paintings, other gods. You know, the goddess of rain and the god of bountiful crops and all that. Those charms don’t work, either. Probably because people hide them in their attics or the granary. They’d be called primitives and heathens, children of the Vile. The Vile One is the ultimate evil being who wants to destroy all of what Supreme has created.”

I ask, “How do you know about paintings and icons and all that if they’re being hidden?”

“Because I make dresses,” she says with a shrug. “I visit people in their homes. Since I’m handy with a needle and thread, they ask me to also repair rugs and curtains. A few times, I’ve stitched up a gash on someone’s leg. In those kinds of situations, though, people forget to hide their altars. And to be perfectly honest, what others believe is none of my business.”

I rub my chin, thinking, then point to the colure above the barn door. “So, do you and your brother think that’s bullshit or…?”

Olivia arches an eyebrow. “Of course, we believe that the emperor is Supreme.” She holds my gaze and thinks, “What if she’s a spy from Brithellum?”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” I say to assuage her suspicion. “I obviously don’t know the first thing about Wake. Don’t care much for what I’ve heard.”

Olivia clears her throat, and her eyes drift behind me. “Brother, you’re back. Are you still angry?”

Jadon joins us holding a stack of quilts. “I’m exhausted, Olivia. This could’ve gone worse than it did. What would’ve happened to her if I was in Pethorp?”

“Thank you for your concern,” I say, my throat tightening at his sincere worry, “and for coming to my aid. I do appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says, meeting my gaze. “It was the right thing to do. I would’ve done it for…” He looks away. He doesn’t say “anyone” because he knows that’s not true. I don’t even have to read his mind to know that he’s trying not to think about me the way I know he wants to think about me.

Whatever he needs to do to walk straight and focus.

“Let’s get you settled.” He beckons me to follow him into the barn.

I can’t help but appreciate how his arms, shoulders, and back flex as he climbs the ladder to the loft with those clean, soft quilts.

“None of this would’ve happened,” he says from up high, “if you just resisted the urge to be a criminal, Olivia.”

“I’m not a criminal,” she sniffs. “There are perfectly good reasons for swiping. Feeding your family, for instance.”

Jadon climbs back down the ladder and stands over his sister. “Did you or did you not swipe her clothes and pendant?”

Olivia tilts her head as she pulls the amulet from her pocket to examine it. “You say ‘swipe,’ I say repurpose and reuse.” When neither Jadon nor I react, she scowls at me. “I thought you were dead ! Why were you out in the woods anyway?”

I open my mouth to retort, but for the first time, I don’t have anything to say. Uneasy, I make a fist and bounce it against my lips.

“What’s wrong?” Jadon asks, stepping toward me.

Revealing the truth will render me vulnerable, but they’ll figure it out eventually. I take a breath and stare at one of the soot-covered, knotty-wooded poles that support the barn loft before confessing, “I don’t remember anything before waking up with Olivia swiping my belongings.” Saying this feels like I’m overreacting and wrongly accusing Olivia of doing something horrible. But she stole from me. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

“When you say, ‘anything,’” Jadon says, “does that include where you’re from?”

“Yes.” Desperation bordering on panic tightens my throat. “Not my name. Not my town. Not one thing.”

Jadon gapes at me.

Olivia gasps. “Maybe you were dropped here by a giant eagle who caught you for dinner or—” She gasps again. “Maybe you’re a hunter and you were hiding in a blind and a falling star hit you and knocked you out of a tree. Or maybe you were in a gigantic explosion, like a volcano eruption.”

“A falling star?” Jadon asks incredulously. “A volcano? There aren’t any volcanoes in this part of Vallendor.”

I want to laugh, but something stays my humor. Maybe the Olivia-concocted giant eagle bullshit theory could also be part possibility. A hunter in a blind. Now, that scenario feels right. Maybe not a volcano, but something explosive had to have launched me across the forest.

“Or…” Olivia grins and then snorts. “Maybe you were flitting about in the heavens, napping on your perfect little cloud, and then, out of nowhere, that falling star hit you and sent you tumbling down, down, down until you landed here.”

Falling star. Something about that tugs at the back of my mind.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jadon says. “That sounds—”

I hold up my hand to stop him. “Why do you say a falling star?”

“Because,” Olivia says, “I saw this bright light streaking down from the sky, and I ran into the woods to see what it was, and I found you.”

Jadon gapes at his sister. “You’re not serious. People don’t fall from the sky.”

I hold up my hand again. “Did I fall far? Was there fire or smoke? How long between when you saw that bright light streaking down and when you found me?”

Olivia shrugs. “I don’t know. Not long?”

“If Olivia really saw something,” Jadon says, “it really could have been a falling star, like she said.”

I say, “Hmm,” unable to say no outright.

Because there’s something to this story. I feel it. Like a burr on my sock. Like a fly buzzing in my ear. The more I think about it, the quicker my heart beats. Are there mountains around here? Geysers? Anything that I would have fallen from? A giant eagle? A tornado possibly? Falling. Hitting my head from the force.

A gust of wind could’ve carried me from wherever I was and lost some of its power and dropped me in the woods. There were clouds and rain in a town that hadn’t seen wet weather in a long time. “Was there wind?” I ask. “From which direction did I fall? Straight or slanted?”

“I don’t know.” Olivia throws her hands up with a frustrated huff. “All I know is, I saw a burst of light and found you sprawled out there, beneath the trees. You weren’t moving, you weren’t breathing, but you had on that fierce leather vest and that absolutely ferocious cloak, and it was like…like…someone pushed you off the fancy-nancy cart and left you there to die. Then I saw that necklace!”

Olivia pulls the pendant and chain out of her pocket and strokes the black stone in the moth’s thorax.

My fingers itch to yank it from her thieving hands, but my yanking could result in some private time with Narder. So I hold—for now.

“All these jewels caught the light, and Jadon—” She spins to her brother, who’s staring at my amulet with his brow furrowed. “We’re really not in a position to just leave treasure sitting there on the ground!”

“It wasn’t sitting on the ground,” I retort. “It was dangling from my neck .”

“And I thought you were dead!” She massages her temples as though she has a right to have a headache. “I thought that I could sell all of it for food, for iron, for something, anything .” When Jadon says nothing, she adds, sheepishly, “I would have come back to bury you.”

“We can solve this right now,” I snap. “Give me my stuff back and I’ll leave.”

Jadon heaves a resigned sigh. “I apologize. I’m sorry you’re in this position but…”

“But what ?” I prompt, impatient.

“We can’t.” His eyes soften. “You heard Johny. He threatened all of us.” And he thinks: “And that’s bullshit, too. I hate every second of this conversation.”

“And why are you in a rush anyway?” he asks aloud. “If you don’t know who you are, how do you know where you’re supposed to go?”

“Maybe having my possessions will open something up in my mind?” I say, pressing my forehead to staunch the ache emerging behind my eyes. “Like how certain smells make you remember things? The aroma of cakes baking reminding you of childhood? Or how hearing a certain song makes you cry? I don’t know. Just let me hold them so that I can see if that works.”

“We can’t,” he says. “I wish I could. And I wish I knew how you could’ve fallen from the sky, but I’ll help you figure it out as much as I can, which may not be much.” Jadon offers a miserable smile, then studies his sister. “You didn’t have to do this. We wouldn’t be here—she wouldn’t be here—if you’d just…”

“So what’s changed?” Olivia asks, truly perplexed. “You’ve never asked me before where I’ve found things. You’re just happy to have the money.”

“Oh, I worry about the way you acquire coin,” Jadon corrects, “but I also know convincing you to stop would take more breath than I can draw.”

I roll my eyes. “Young people these days.”

He folds his arms. “I blame the parents. Back in my day, we kept our hands to ourselves.”

“Very true,” I say.

“What?” Olivia spits. “Neither of you are that much older than me.”

I cock an eyebrow. “You don’t know how old I am. I don’t know how old I am.” But after the day I’m having, feels like I’ve been alive since the beginning of time.

We’re saved from any more discussion when a dog with a mottled black coat and icy-blue eyes scampers into the barn.

“Milo!” Olivia stuffs the amulet back in her pocket, scoops up the dog, and waggles his paw at me. “Forest Girl, meet—”

The toothless dog growls, barks, and lunges at me.

I hop back. “You know what, Milo? You need to relax.”

“Milo!” Olivia says. “Bad dog!”

The dog whines, then nestles his face in the crook of Olivia’s arm.

My eyes narrow. “Don’t worry about feeding me. I’ll just eat him .”

Olivia chokes. “Huh?”

The dog whimpers.

I wave my hand dismissively. “Changed my mind. He’s probably full of worms anyway. Last thing I need right now is some weird disease that makes me grow a tail.” I look over my shoulder at my bottom. “Don’t wanna mess up perfection, know what I mean?”

Olivia looks at her own rear and snickers. “Not at all.”

“Let me take him back to Gery next door,” Jadon says, sneaking a peek at my perfection. Don’t even have to hear his thoughts to know he agrees. Perfection, indeed. For a hot second, he meets my gaze, and my pulse goes boom .

This time, I do throw him a grin. Caught you looking. I’m this close to turning completely around so that he can fully appreciate me—because I’m that helpful.

Before I can perform this charitable act, however, Jadon plucks the dog from his sister’s arms. Milo licks his face and then snarls at me one last time.

“Fine,” I say to him, “you don’t have worms.”

Milo barks, then wags his tail.

I scratch the top of his head. “Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

Once I have my clothes, I will leave this death village, and I might just invite Milo to travel with me. And maybe I’ll ask Jadon to join me, too, at least some of the way.

Olivia pulls her short hair into a messy bun and taps my shoulder. “Are you hungry?” She ambles out of the barn and toward the nicer dwelling, the one with the curtains the color of the daystar. “You’re in for a treat,” she says. “I made potato-and-leek soup.”

On cue, my stomach growls. “I’ll eat anything.”