“Ah, Shae, there you are.” Hugo’s voice comes from the entrance of the stockroom. There is an edge in his voice. “You had us worried.”
“Sir…” I glance to Fiona, hoping she’ll help me out, like always. Her gaze is fixed on the floor.
“We need to discuss our arrangement,” Hugo says, joining his daughter behind the counter, his tone unfaltering. “While I’m grateful for your assistance these past few weeks, we think the time has come for you to find new accommodations.”
“We?” I repeat quietly. For a second, I forget why I rushed into the store to begin with. “Fiona?” Please look at me. “Fiona, I know we had a disagreement, but…”
“It’s nothing personal, you understand,” Hugo cuts me off. “But my family’s well-being must come first.”
“I would never do anything to hurt your family,” I shoot back, watching Fiona dip behind the counter.
“Then you understand why we must ask you to leave.” Hugo nods as Fiona reappears. She sets my old rucksack of possessions in front of her, carefully avoiding my eyes.
Complete silence has fallen on the store. I let out a shaky breath, realizing acutely how much I took Fiona sticking up for me for granted.
“Fiona, please, you have to believe me…” I begin, but she moves away.
I take a deep breath. Maybe her father will listen. “Hugo. Sir. I have concerns about the safety of Aster. There’s been a cover-up, a mur—”
“I will tolerate no such words in my establishment!” Hugo’s face is red and his fist shakes at his side. “Shae, it would be wise of you to leave immediately, before I am forced to report your behavior.”
Stunned, I take the rucksack. The last thing I see as I back out of the store is Fiona’s face, terror brimming in her eyes. Fear hammers through my chest.
No one wants to listen. The truth is too great a risk to take over stability.
The sun is high in the sky, and people go about their day, busy and purposeful. It’s almost impossible to believe that only a few short hours ago the street was dark and deserted. The noise from the bustle of town makes it difficult to think through the haze of hurt that’s settled uncomfortably on my shoulders.
I need to get to Mads. Part of me would rather disappear into a hole in the ground for the rest of my natural life than face him, but he’s the only other person left who I can trust. Surely he’ll understand if I explain.
The closer I get to Mads’s home, the tighter the knot in my stomach becomes. My ears begin to ring from nervousness.
The mill stands beside the dried-up riverbed and looks like a large house with no walls. The creaking of the apparatus that moves the enormous shafts of wood through the saw reaches my ears long before I see it. I make out Mads’s father up on the platform, so Mads must be out back, manually turning the mill. Without the flow of water to work the wheel, they have to do it by hand. When he’s not needed at the mill, Mads and his elder brother go hunting to provide for the family.
A different choice last night would have made this my new home. I swallow the thought, which turns heavy in my throat.
I pick my way down the side of the riverbed. Mads is at the bottom, rotating the large wheel by pulling the slats that would normally be caught in the current of water. A ring of sweat around his neck darkens the collar of his linen shirt.
I stay rooted in place, mutely grappling with saying hello or running away. I don’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. Images of last night flash through my mind—the look of hopeful uncertainty on his face. His eagerness as he knelt before me. The way his shoulders seemed to crush down on him in the darkness after I took that hope away.
I don’t know which of us was more disappointed in the end. I had believed he went to the Bards to expose the truth about my mother’s death, to bring justice to my family. He had wanted to help me, but not in the right away. I ache to think this means he never understood me—not the way I needed him to.
Mads shifts his position at the wheel and spots me. He hesitates, using a hand to shield his brow from the sunlight. He must see the state I’m in, because he calls up to his father, “Taking a quick break, Pa!”
“Five minutes,” his father grumbles.
Mads straightens his collar before facing me. The hurt is plain as daybreak on his face. I bite my lip, trying to keep from running away as fast as possible. He’s my last hope.
“What do you need, Shae?” He swipes sweaty hair out of his eyes. His voice is blunt. Direct.
Shae. Not Freckles. I wonder if that part of our lives—our friendship—is gone forever, along with his nickname for me.
I take a deep breath. “I need your help. I’m sorry, it’s just … I don’t know where else to go.”
His eyebrow twitches, but the rest of his face remains impassive. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I am. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
A rueful laugh escapes him. The sound he makes when he doesn’t quite believe what he’s hearing.
“No, are you serious?” he repeats, his blue eyes narrowed at me, flashing with cold light. “You remember last night, right? Why in the world would you…” He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He mutters to himself, “Should have known better.”
“I have no right to ask anything of you, I know that,” I say, “but something terrible is happening to the town, and Fiona doesn’t believe me, and Constable Dunne refuses to hear reason, and I think it could mean that he—”
“Look. I understand that you’re hurting, Shae. I really, really do. Believe me. I just wish…”
He thought I was here to reconsider his proposal, I realize with a sharp pang. He has loved me a long time. This hurt is not fresh.
“Mads—”
“No, let me finish. Chasing answers and not liking what you find doesn’t mean you can uproot my life,” he says.
I blink, taken aback. “There’s more to it than that. A lot more. Constable Dunne—”
“Shae. Stop. I understand your search for meaning in life is all-consuming, but I have work to do.” He scoffs, a wounded animal lashing out. An excruciating silence stretches between us before it dawns on me: He might believe Constable Dunne. He might think I’m crazy. Or making this up. That her death was a tragic accident—terrible, yes, but not a crime.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I care about you,” I say, trying hard to keep my voice from trembling. “You’re important to me. You’re still my friend.” He flinches at the word like I poked an open wound. “You have to understand. This isn’t something I can ignore. I can’t settle down with this hanging over me.”
“There are factors you don’t understand, Shae. I have other obligations. And I think we could both use some space right now.”
Other obligations. His family. His farm. Until two weeks ago, these were my first loyalties as well. I can’t fault him—or Fiona. I never saw before how loyalty can do this—keep people living in a fog of lies, separated from the truth, from what’s right.
A tear hits my cheek. All I can do is watch silently as he turns away from me and goes back to work.