Her eyes widened in shock and satisfaction flooded me, but when her mouth curved into a sneer, I’d had enough. Pan still in hand, I went to the door and stepped out into the swirling white.
Shit. A sharp wind whipped through the night, carrying eddies of snow that had already stuck to the ground and lined the path to the village. It was freezing, and I didn’t have a cloak. There was no going back. I’d just have to sprint and hope the cold didn’t find me.
Taking the right path, letting my long legs work for me, I ran hard and didn’t look back.
Elain had won. I’d failed to play her game. The elders wouldn’t believe me, but that didn’t mean I had to go quietly. I’d been silent for too long. Enough. My father’s wishes no longer mattered. I’d kept the peace for him. Always for him. That lingering respect died in my veins the instant Gus had touched me. I couldn’t honor Father’s memory when I couldn’t forgive him. Not just for bringing them into our lives, but for not seeing that the cabin hadn’t been a home in years. The only home I recognized was the one I ran to.
Chapter 3
Changeling
I ran until my leg muscles screamed and my heart felt fit to explode. The starry tapestry and the pale face of the moon were the only lights guiding my way. With sweat slipping down my back and staining my dress, and my body shaking, I staggered to a halt and dry-heaved on the side of the path. Thankfully, there wasn’t anything in my stomach, so the retching soon ended. Checking that no one had followed me, I threw the pan into the forest and set off again, redoubling my efforts and arriving at the village like a whirlwind gone mad.
Nearly there. Heart in mouth, I continued along the mud-clotted path until I spotted candlelight in their window, the only sign that Viola might still be up. John would be in bed—the life of a baker demanded early nights.
Not wanting to terrify her, I allowed myself a few seconds to nurse the stitch in my side and compose myself. I doubled over, sucked deep breaths into shuddering lungs, and used my sleeve to wipe the sweat from my face.
One last stumbling run and I was knocking at their door. I tucked my hands under my armpits, trying to manage the shivering. I knew it wasn’t the cold causing my body to react that way, not after sprinting for fifteen minutes straight. The door opened, Viola took one look at me and I burst into tears.
After Viola calmed me down enough to hear what had happened, she went upstairs to wake John. Once they’d joined me in the kitchen, all of us nursing steaming mugs of hot chocolate, John was all for going straight to Baird. He looked ready to fling his coat on and drag me there.
I disagreed. “I don’t think the elders would appreciate us banging on their doors in the middle of the night. Let’s at least wait until morning.”
Viola looked distant, but John nodded. “I’ll take you at first light.”
“I’ll go get sheets for the couch,” Viola said quietly before exiting the room.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I met John’s knowing stare. “She feels like she’s failed you. That’s why she’s …” He slumped back in his chair, unable to finish his sentence.
“She hasn’t,” I said hoarsely. “She couldn’t.”
My voice sounded hollow, even to me. I tried to summon the fierceness I’d felt earlier in the night, but the creature that had slipped its leash now slept. The sharp edge of my panic had dimmed, leaving behind a black pit of nothingness eating away my insides.
Something of this must’ve shown on my face, because a quaver entered John’s voice when he said, “Serena—can I do anything?”
Not wanting to cause him more worry than was necessary, I scraped back the chair and stood. “I’ll be fine. I just need sleep.”
Not stopping to check whether he’d bought my flimsy lie, I padded over to the couch and sat in front of a dying fire.
Now standing, his heavy eyelids drooping, John asked, “Do you need anything before I go up?”
“No, thank you. Sorry about waking you.”
He made a disbelieving noise and mumbled, “Don’t be silly. We’re always here for you, Serena.”
Words failed me.
John stayed, suspended in the doorway to the bakery until Viola came bustling back in and said, “John, you go on up to bed now. I’m staying here with Serena.”
“There’s no need.” A feeble protest on my part.
Viola silenced me with a look, and John simply nodded as if he’d expected nothing less. Swooping down, he kissed his wife on the cheek. “G’night.”
When the door shut behind him, Viola placed a pillow and several thick woolen blankets next to me in a pile. She straightened, only for her brows to knit together as her eyes met mine. “I think given everything that’s happened tonight, you should wear this.”
She stepped toward the mantelpiece, opened the silver box, and plucked out my mother’s necklace. Twisting back around, she extended her arm, offering it to me. When I didn’t take it, her arm lowered. “Serena, you can’t let bullies dictate your life. This is your birthright. Take it.” Pushing her hand out again, she said, “If not for yourself, then do it for me. I’ll sleep better knowing you have its protection.”
My tongue felt heavy as I formed the words. “How could it protect me?”
“Because it was your mother’s.”
Annoyed at this noncommittal answer, I took it anyway and fastened it around my neck, hiding it under the fabric of my rough homespun dress. The gem encasing the droplet of water felt surprisingly heavy and warm against my chest.
“I’ll be right here,” Viola said, slumping back into her favorite chair by the fire. Laying a blanket over her lap and picking up her knitting, she continued. “I’m not going anywhere, so try to sleep, okay?”
I mumbled my thanks and grabbed the pillow and a blanket. Curling up on the couch, dreading the nightmares to come, I watched Viola’s hands dance and listened to the soft clacking of her needles. The night passed in stretches of fractured sleep as thoughts and nightmares blurred together. Certain images and feelings kept resurfacing, forcing me to taste bile at the back of my throat as I recalled the violent lust in Gus’s movements and the triumph on Elain’s face.
Hovering on the edge of sleep again, a knocking noise made me vault off the couch. My whole body quivered, readying to fight or flee.
Through the foggy glass-paned door I saw only the faintest hint of pink in the sky. Dawn hadn’t yet arrived. The only light in the room came from the dying fire and the odd stubby candle. It wasn’t enough to make out the figure knocking to come in.
Viola was at my side instantly, steadying me. “It’s all right, you’re safe with us,” she cooed. “I want you to go get John for me.”
“No need.” John appeared at the side door, already dressed in a flour-covered apron. “I was just putting the first loaves in.”
“John? Viola?” a voice sounded from outside. “Are you there? It’s Timothy.”
My heart slammed up against my chest. “They’ve already gotten to them.”
“We can’t be sure if this is about last night,” John said quietly.
A breathy note entered Viola’s voice as she said, “Oh, I think we can—that’s Baird’s grandson knocking on our door.” Her face taut, she turned to me. “Serena, if you want to run, if you think you won’t get a fair hearing, then we’ll hide you and send Timothy away.”
I shook my head. “You can’t shelter me forever.”
John, who’d been silent during Viola’s rushed speech, stepped forward with stiff shoulders and a straight back. “No, but we can smuggle you out, and I can get you money—enough to start over in a new village.”
My mouth popped open. “The elders would ruin you—”
“Serena, don’t think for one second we wouldn’t risk that and more for you,” Viola said, her eyes darting to the door as another knock echoed through the house.