Chapter 13

I ran to the window and let out a noise of surprise. The orchard with Merrick's soaring, fantastical trees was gone. In its place were other trees, beech and alder, cypress and yew. After a year spent in the Between, their ordinariness was almost shocking.

I turned back to the cottage, surprised to find doorways leading to other rooms. This house was much larger than my old one, with high rafters and beams. I could already picture how they'd look at harvest time, with bunches of drying flowers and herbs hanging from them. Everything was airy and light. Beams of sunshine danced through the many open windows. Eyelet curtains wafted back and forth, caught in the breeze. I took in a deep breath. The air was redolent with the scent of freshly turned earth, bursting blossoms, and a heady mix of so many green growing things. There had not been scents like this in the Between; there'd not been any scents at all. My senses tingled, as though this wealth of input was overwhelming them, like fireworks blasting through my bloodstream.

"What do you think?" Merrick asked, clasping his fingers together. I could tell he was worried that he'd gotten it all wrong, that the cottage wasn't to my taste, that I hated everything in it and, by extension, him as well.

I wandered to the next room. One wall was lined with diamond-paned windows. Its opposite was all shelves, already full of books. My fingers trailed over their spines and I spotted many new titles among old friends. History and science, atlases and art, novels and poetry.

"Hazel?" he called again, wandering after me. I noticed he left a careful distance between us.

The kitchen came next. The cabinets were painted white and stenciled with tiny blue flowers. There were pots and pans of bright copper, a dark wooden ice chest, and a huge, hulking iron stove in the corner. There was a worktable and stools, a row of potted herbs lining the deep windowsill, and enough plates and cups to host a party of six.

I wandered through each open door, passing a mudroom and pantry, a cozy sitting room, and an indoor bathroom so beautiful I actually gasped, until I arrived at the bedroom.

It was so green.

Windows lined three walls, offering a dazzling view of the surrounding forest and fields of waving tall grasses.

He gave me trees.

I turned around. Merrick had hung back on the room's threshold, bending low to fit in the doorframe.

"You made this for me?" I whispered, overcome.

He nodded and I rushed to hug him, forgetting my earlier outburst. Somehow he had known everything that would delight me. He'd carefully filled the cottage, stocking it with luxurious practicalities. No detail was too small, no need overlooked.

I could feel every thought he'd put into this space, and my heart swelled, overwhelmed by it all.

This showed he cared for me, I reasoned. No one would go to such pains for a ward they only tolerated. He might have left me on my own for all that time, but he'd also done this. And if that wasn't proof of his affection, what was?

"And you'll stay here? With me?" I asked, pulling him back down the hall toward the kitchen, hope clattering painfully high in my chest. "There's more than one set of plates this time."

Merrick glanced toward the shelf, counting the plates and cups as though he doubted what I'd seen. "Yes. Often."

I could feel the rush of wind leave my sails. "But not always?"

He shook his great head, seemingly regretful.

"Your work," I guessed.

"And yours," he pointed out, evading my gentle prod. "Now that you've completed all your studies, you're ready for your nextgift."

"You've already given me so much."

Merrick smiled widely. "Yes, Hazel. But this is the most important gift of all."

And then, for the second time, Merrick told me my birthday story. And on this sunny afternoon, he told me every bit of it.

When Merrick had finished, I collapsed back into one of the overstuffed chairs in my new sitting room, gazing off into the forest out the windows as I mulled over everything he'd said.

"I'll be able to cure anything?" I asked, feeling as if I were repeating him once again but needing absolute clarification.

In the periphery of my vision, I saw him nod. "Anything that can be cured."

"Just by…" I raised my hand and mimed touching someone'sface.

Merrick nodded once more.

My head swam with dozens of questions demanding to be asked. "Why did you have me spend the last year reading all those books? I didn't need to learn any of it. Not with this…gift." It didn't feel like the right word, not exactly.

Merrick was still for a long moment, considering my words. "Do you remember our talk about magic and power?"

I thought back to that day in the orchard so many months before and nodded.

"The cure…your vision of it…is the magic. It's there, out in the world, waiting to be revealed. My gift to you, the seeing of it, is nothing but sleight of hand. It's pulling back a curtain, showing what was there all along. The power, the true power, comes from knowing how to use it. What good is knowing that someone needs stitches if you can't sew them? Knowing you need to set a fracture and being able to do it are two very different things. You can see the tonic needed, but if you don't know how to make it, your patient dies. You needed time to obtain your knowledge, to gather your powers. This gift is the confidence to know that what you're doing is right."

It made a degree of sense. I wanted to ask him more, but a great clatter of noise sounded from the front door. Someone was rapping frantically and calling for help. "Hello? Hello? Is the healer here?" The raps mellowed to thuds as the visitor switched to the palms of their hands, striking the door over and over. "Oh, please be home!"

"The healer?" I froze.

Merrick's eyes sparkled in amusement. "He means you."

"But how does he know I live here? We only just arrived."

"This has always been the cottage of Alletois's healer. When I came across its former resident"—he paused as if wishing to restructure the thought—"I knew that with a few changes here and there it would be the perfect place for you to begin practicing your new skills."

"You ‘came across the former resident,'?" I echoed, then blanched with realization. "They're dead?"

Merrick let out a sigh of annoyance. "It's not as though I left the body here." He gestured to the door. " Your first patient is waiting for you. Aren't you going to let them in?"

I stood, then looked back to my godfather, panic rising within me. "But what about you?"

"He won't see me," he promised quickly with a snap of his fingers. Merrick remained visible but there was a strange feeling to the cottage. The air flowed off me differently, as if I were the only onehere.

"I still see you," I hissed.

"But he won't."

He.

There was a he somewhere who needed me.

The concept made my stomach quiver with nerves.

"Go on," Merrick nudged, sensing the hesitation.

I bumped my hip against a side table as I hurried to the front door. I'd only just arrived in Alletois. I wasn't familiar with the layout of my own house but already was being asked to leave it to tend to someone I wasn't sure I knew how to treat.

"Now or never," I muttered to myself, and opened the door.

The boy on the other side had his fist raised, ready to knock once more, and nearly struck me as the swinging door surprised him. He was flushed and out of breath, his collar damp and gaping.

He was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen.

His skin was a rich chestnut and he had a head of thick, dark curls. His eyes were warm and brown and a faint scar traced across his cheek. I wanted to ask him how he'd gotten it. I wanted to ask him that and a dozen more questions.

After a year spent all alone in the Between, I was hungry for conversation. For companionship. For—

"Where's the healer?" he asked, between deep gulps of air.

"Here. Me. That is…I'm…I'm the healer," I stammered, feeling more incompetent with every syllable that fell from my lips.

"You are?" He peered at me dubiously.

I couldn't blame him. He looked about my age, and I couldn't imagine anyone allowing us to be trusted with anything of importance.

"I…I am," I said, deciding. I offered my hand, feigning confidence. "I'm Hazel."

"Kieron." He looked over my shoulder, as if searching for someone else.

"And you…you need help?" I looked him over. He didn't seem ill, but I wondered what I'd see if I cradled his face in my hands.

He shook his head. "Not me. My uncle. He's taken sick. You must know him. He lives just over the ridge, there," he said, pointing toward the tree line on the far side of the meadow.

"I…I am new to town."

"But you can help him?"

"I…" I faltered, unwilling to commit to something so unknown. "I'll need to gather some supplies first. Come inside and tell me what's ailing him."

"He's burning up with fever," Kieron said, stepping ahead of me to open the screen door with unconscious chivalry.

"Thank you," I murmured, ducking beneath his arm. Unreasonably, my cheeks flushed. He was so much taller than me, with the broad shoulders and lean muscles of a farmer's son. I idly wondered what things they grew, what crops they kept.

I wanted to know everything about him.

I opened my mouth, just about to ask about the scar, when clarity washed over me.

Now was not the time. Not with an uncle, sick and unwell. Not with that worry creasing the corners of his eyes.

I tossed aside my fanciful daydreams and headed into the workroom, certain I remembered seeing a leather valise and an arsenal of dried herbs and stoppered bottles. "Fever?"

"It started a few days ago," he said. "He says he's cold but sweats through any blanket I put on him. He's a widower—when we heard he was ill, my mother sent me to look after him."

"Body aches?" I guessed, finding the bag. Focus, Hazel, focus. I began checking the stock inside, listening to him as I worked.

"Terrible ones. I thought it was just a summer cold, but then…it's been getting worse. And today…" He swallowed, turning pale.

"Hazel," Merrick interrupted, suddenly filling the doorway. "I do believe you'll want to dispense with such niceties and get to this man. With haste."

I dared a glance back to Kieron, but he was only staring at me, watching me, completely unaware of the Dreaded End now peering down at him curiously.

Though I offered him my brightest smile, I could feel it quiver. "Take me to your uncle?"