When I finally crest the hill and my house comes into view, a low gray shape in the darkness, a mix of emotions rushes up into my chest, sickness and dread coating the usual feelings of safety and home. And piercing through it all, a pang that hurts the most—I miss my ma. I miss her so much, I am afraid the feeling will tear itself through the walls of my rib cage and burst out into the night like a feral beast.
A loud rustling sounds behind me, and I gasp, fearing I’ve somehow conjured a feral beast at the thought. I spin on my heel.
“Is someone there?” I call out, prepared to scream as I picture Ma’s murderer leaping out at me from the darkness.
For some stupid reason, I step away from the edge of the road, toward the woods.
Another crunch of branches.
I stand on guard, my entire body rigid. If someone is here to finish the job, I at least want to see their face before I die. To know.
“Damn … Damn it!” Mads stumbles through the branches. Twigs and leaves adorn his hair, and his cheek is scratched.
My anger and fear swiftly become relief. Mads dusts himself off. The tips of his ears are bright red.
“Freckles.” He grimaces sheepishly. “Sorry I was away so long, I—”
I rush forward and wrap my arms around his waist like my life depends on it. His surprise soon melts away, and he draws me closer, gently kissing the top of my head.
“You’re back,” I say, disbelieving. I study his face, trying to see if he has changed in some way, if he has found news from the Bards that will help me. The thought reignites the hope in my chest. “Your pa told me where you’d gone, but I wasn’t sure I could believe it. Did you find them? Did you go all the way to High House? What happened? And what are you doing out here in the middle of the night?”
“One question at a time,” he says, a soft laugh escaping him. He clears his throat. “Yes, I went to the Bards—they were still stationed a few towns away.”
He looks strange in the darkness—a combination of the Mads I know but with a layer of secrecy in his eyes. He seems nervous, his eyes darting around us, as if someone could be watching from the trees. And yet, he seems excited too. His smile keeps trying to quirk up at the corner of his mouth.
“And? What did you learn? Do they know the truth? Do they know who the killer is?”
“The … killer?” he stammers, looking genuinely confused.
“Of course! Who else? They must have been able to help, right? They know everything. Surely they had a record of what happened? Do you know who murdered my mother?”
It’s the second time I’ve uttered the forbidden word—murder—in one night, and Mads looks like I’ve slapped him. I step back, hoping the space will encourage him.
“I’m sorry, Mads. I’m rushing over you. Please, take your time. I want to know everything.”
“Well,” he begins. And suddenly, panic reverberates through me. Maybe he didn’t find out the truth and doesn’t want to disappoint me. Or maybe he knows but fears the truth will break me. But I must know.
Before I can interrupt, he fishes for something in his pocket and takes a step closer. “I went to the Bards. To ask for their blessing.”
“Blessing?” I’m confused. They already granted our village a Telling.
For the millionth time tonight, his expression changes, and I wonder if he’s going to laugh or cry or kiss me. “Their permission, really. Which they granted.”
I watch, stunned, as Mads gets down on one knee in front of me.
He holds out a small box. Inside is a simple engagement brooch, in the traditional shape of a raven. It shines in the moonlight.
My fingertips graze along its polished edges, catching on the outstretched wings. There is a fable of the raven that flew over the lands of Montane and brought news to the Bards, of the plague that ravaged our lands. It’s a symbol of new beginnings.
The meaning of Mads’s choice is clear before he says it.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me, Shae. I want to make it up to you. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side. As your husband. And I promise … I will shield you from everyone who might hurl stones or curses. Anyone who might speak ill of you. Anyone who looks at you the wrong way. I’ll fight for you until I die.” Crickets screech in the silence. “Will you have me?”
An uncomfortable minute passes as I stand there, wordlessly. One minute turns to two.
You’re standing too long without saying anything! Answer him! But I can’t move. I can’t find words in the maelstrom of feelings that has overtaken all rational thought.
Mads, on bended knee, is waiting expectantly for my answer. His soft blue eyes are full of warmth and hope. His smile makes the moonlight look even brighter, somehow.
I had not dared to consider this outcome. There was always a reason not to. We’re too young. My family’s curse. Taking care of Ma. Me being the girl in his life for the moment, but never forever.
And yet, he is proposing. This is what I had hoped for.
Isn’t it?
This is my chance to put everything behind me. I could marry Mads and live in the town with him, no longer shunned as an outsider. It would be hard, but we could work together and build a future. We could have children. We could be a family. In time, I’m sure I will fall in love with him properly, like he deserves.
But I’m not in love with him.
And that’s only part of the problem.
Hazy images of Ma, Pa, and Kieran drift in front of me. Pa falling to his knees in the pasture, gasping for air as his heart failed him. The dark blue veins on Kieran’s neck. The ornate golden dagger jutting out of Ma’s chest. The home I lived in, soaked in sickness, blood, and death.
Can I simply turn my back on all the unanswered questions and pretend nothing is wrong?
“I can’t.” My voice comes out a whisper. Disappointment cascades through me. He didn’t go to the Bards for answers. He thinks he is helping me, but he isn’t. He can’t. He doesn’t understand. Just like Fiona.
Mads’s eyes widen for a split second, but his gaze doesn’t waver from me. His smile slips from his face, and I so desperately wish I could transfer his hurt and place it on my own shoulders. The more I try to summon the words to help, the more I come up short. In the end, it is Mads who pays the price.
“I’m sorry, Mads,” I say. “But there’s so much I haven’t figured out yet. I must find out what happened to Ma. I need answers.”
He lets my words sink in before slowly replacing the box in his pocket and getting to his feet.
“Answers. Right,” he whispers. “Forget I said anything. I was only trying to help. Pretty stupid of me, wasn’t it?”
“Mads, please. Please stop.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes.
He looks shaken. Destroyed.
“I’m sorry, Mads.”
He turns his gaze away, toward the ground. His breath is coming heavy, as if he’s been running. “Don’t be. I—I understand.”
Except he doesn’t. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, as if desperate to escape me. To Mads, problems like mine can be shoved away, kept at a far enough distance that they can’t hurt anyone. But they are still there. I can’t simply act like Ma’s murderer doesn’t exist. That my life wasn’t touched by the Blot. That my embroidery doesn’t haunt me and play tricks on my eyes. But I know how Mads thinks: Why fix anything when the problem can be ignored or fended off with brute strength?