Chapter 15

I saved Kieron's uncle.

And the boy with the broken femur.

The mother who went into labor too soon.

The king's man who was thrown from his horse as he rode through our little village collecting taxes, his head split open like a melon grown too ripe.

I never did understand why my patients didn't question my lack of credentials, why they didn't wonder at my training. I couldn't begin to reason that they'd allow a thirteen-year-old girl to treat them, taking my suggestions as if they were words from the Holy First herself.

They could have balked. They could have called me a witch. They could have sought treatment in other towns, far from our valley.

But they came.

And I healed them.

Merrick remained with me in those first weeks in Alletois, only disappearing for his own work late at night, while I slept. Occasionally I would wake to frantic raps on the door, called away to another sickbed, and I'd realize Merrick was gone, his usual seat beside the hearth emptied.

He always left a white clover blossom in his absence, as promise of a swift return.

Weeks turned into a month.

Kieron visited, first bringing a bushel of apples in payment for helping his uncle.

Then a cache of carrots.

Then an invitation to join his family during the Holy First's feast day.

His parents' smiles were warm but uneasy. It was the same look many of the villagers gave me, the strange girl who had arrived without family, blessed with talents far beyond her age. I could only smile back and hope my skills would be enough to silence doubts.

A month turned to two.

Word of my miraculous talents began to spread, and patients came from farther and farther away, bringing coins or provisions to pay me with.

After four months of living in Alletois, I had to have a chicken coop built to house all the birds I'd been given. My larder was always filled, and I ate well, fortified by my neighbors' bounties.

It pleased me that I was able to provide for myself, that I didn't need to rely upon Merrick's graces to stay clothed and fed.

As summer turned to autumn, my workload doubled. There were more colds and cases of sickness as the weather fluctuated between frosty nights and steaming afternoons. There were more injuries too—farmers grown careless with their scythes at harvest, ranchers kicked in the gut as they tried to slaughter their sheep for winter provisions.

I treated them all, always finding the right plant, the right poultice. My salves soothed what was needed, my teas banished what they should.

My routine slowed in winter. So many of the townspeople hunkered away in their homes and wouldn't venture out until spring. Without my own garden to tend, I spent the short daylight hours looking after my chickens and guinea fowl and wandering about my property with a pair of snowshoes given to me by an ailing fur trapper.

Kieron would sometimes visit, bringing a deck of cards or a jacquet set. It was nice to have someone my own age to talk with, and we became fast friends. One winter night, I even confessed to him who my godfather truly was. Kieron was aware I had one and that he was often called away for business, but knew little more than that. The second the truth slipped from me, I regretted my impulsive confidence. I worried he'd laugh, or think I was crazy. Part of me thought he'd run from the house, screaming all the way to the village. But Kieron surprised me and said he'd love to one day meethim.

As the months passed, Merrick left for greater stretches of time, sometimes for two or three days. Once an entire week went by before he returned, and though I missed his company, I found I didn't mind as much as I once had. I was growing up. I had made a friend.

The days began to grow longer, the air warmer, and the ground softer. My birthday was fast approaching, and a tiny burr of worry grew in my middle as the day ticked closer.

Birthdays had never been a time of joyful anticipation for me, and I fretted over what might happen this year. I liked my life in Alletois and hoped Merrick had no plans to surprise me with a new cottage somewhere else or show me an unexpected facet of my gift to strengthen. I wanted things to remain as they'd been that year.

"Please let everything stay the same," I'd whisper before bed each night as the burr grew larger, shifting into a prickle, a spur, a spike.

On the morning of my birthday, I went into the kitchen and spotted one of Merrick's elaborately tiered cakes. It was pink—again—a vivid raspberry, with curlicues of frosting swooping around the edge of each layer. Shards of dark chocolate had been stabbed into the top, like a jagged crown worn by a barbaric king.

"Merrick?" I called, surprised to not find him in his armchair. I tilted my head, listening to the sounds of the cottage.

It felt empty.

Then I heard laughter coming from outside. Only my godfather's laugh could reach so low a bass.

I slipped my feet into a pair of leather clogs—payment from Alletois's cobbler after I helped ease the arthritic pain from his gnarled joints—and went out.

He was in the side yard, his silhouette a stark contrast to the sea of green shoots and leaves beginning to sprout. There was another black form beside him, smaller and lower to the ground, and as I watched, I realized it was chasing him.

"Down! Down, you beast!" he cried, but I could tell how happy he was.

It was a puppy, and it raced after my godfather with pure merriment, tail swishing back and forth like a furred fan. A bubble of laughter burst from me before I could stop it, intruding on their moment, and causing Merrick to look up, startled.

"Oh, Hazel, did we wake you?" he asked with concern, already across the yard in three long strides.

"Not at all."

"Happy birthday, darling girl," he greeted me, giving me a short but warm hug and a kiss on the top of my braided hair. "Many, many happy returns."

"Thank you," I said, reaching on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. "Who is this?"

"A gift for you," he declared.

The puppy danced between us, as if begging to be introduced. Up close, he was far bigger than I'd realized, already coming up to my thighs. His paws were the size of teacups. He'd be a monster once fully grown.

"For me?" I squealed, and knelt down for a proper inspection. He was solid black save for a scattering of white freckles across his snout.

"They reminded me of yours," Merrick said, catching my observation.

"Does he have a name?" I asked, scratching behind the pup's floppy ears. He felt every bit as soft as my velvet quilt.

"I left that for you," he said, smiling. "He'll grow quite large—the perfect companion on a farmhouse so close to the forest." He nodded toward the tree line, and I was touched by his thoughtfulness. Through the winter, we'd heard the echoing cries of wolves, and there were many times, coming home late at night from visiting a sickbed, when I would catch sight of their green eyes as they stalkedme.

"They look like stars," I said, rubbing his nose. "I think I'll call him…" I paused, considering his happy face. "Cosmos," I finallydecided.

Above me, Merrick let out a sound of amusement.

"I'm so glad you returned today," I went on, allowing him to help me back to my feet. "The sweet irises are just about to open their petals. I hoped you wouldn't miss it."

Earlier in the spring, I'd filled my window boxes with medicinal flowers and herbs. Everything had begun to bloom, coloring the cottage with explosions of reds and purples, yellows and oranges, and so many shades of pink.

"I look forward to seeing them," Merrick said, but didn't followme.

"Merrick?" I asked, turning back. He'd paused, suddenly motionless as stone even as Cosmos pranced about. Something had changed within him. "Do you want cake first?"

Merrick's eyes were suddenly huge and luminous and sad. "We can, if you like. After…"

"After?" I echoed.

"I…" He swallowed and looked over his shoulder, as if hearing things I could not. "I'm afraid there's somewhere I must take youfirst."

I glanced down the lane, hoping he only meant a stroll. "Rightnow?"

Merrick cocked his head, still listening to the silence, his expression pained. "Oh, Hazel. I'm so terribly sorry for this." He took my hand in his and without further explanation, he raised his free fingers and snapped.