A pause. The offer hung thick in the air, and I felt a fork in the road. Two choices, two paths, and two very different fates awaited me. Neither choice felt good, and other than a vague sense of wrongness that dogged me when I thought about running, it felt like a stab in the dark. Is this what it was to be an adult then? Gods, it sucked.
I vacillated, twisting my hands together. “You’re the only family I’ve got left.” A flimsy, inarticulate way of describing how much they meant to me.
John moved to Viola’s side and wrapped an arm around her waist in support. “That won’t change, whatever you do.”
Viola winced as another knock sounded. ‘Darling, it’s all right. Go into the bakery,’ she whispered, gesturing to her right.
I sighed. “No, you were right last night.” I met her confused expression, and continued. “I’ve let bullies run my life for too long. Please, open the door—Timothy must be freezing.”
Viola and John exchanged furtive looks.
“Are you sure, Serena?” he asked.
I gave a nod. John stared at me, his mouth a hard line. Respect glimmered true and bright in his eyes. My heart swelled.
John patted Viola once on the shoulder and walked to the door to throw it open.
I glimpsed seventeen-year-old Timothy hopping from foot to foot, rubbing his hands together for warmth. He was already taller than John, with messy brown hair and tanned skin from working the fields. “John!” He sounded relieved. “Sorry for disturbing you, but my grandfather asked me to come to see if Serena was here.”
“What do you want with her?”
That brutal command for information made Timothy mumble, “Is she here?”
John stepped aside. Timothy’s eyes found mine. “Serena.” A tone of surprise. “I—I didn’t think,” he stuttered. “My grandfather, well, I mean to say—the elders sent me to bring you to the Village Hall.”
“Is this about Gus and Elain?” I questioned, preparing myself for the worst.
He nodded sheepishly. “They’ve accused you of something …”
“Of what?” Viola barked, stepping in front of me as if she could protect me from the answer.
My instincts told me that whatever was making Timothy avert Viola’s glower like that—it was worse than I could’ve imagined.
“They say you’re a changeling. Elain’s convinced that you’re the reason the children are disappearing.”
Sharp, cold shock ran through me.
The myths and tales surrounding changelings were infamous. The songs and stories we heard from cradle to grave all spoke of human women being tricked or forced into conceiving fae progenies. Their full-blooded sires never claimed them, and so the demi-fae lived as outcasts. These children of two worlds, abandoned by fae society, had no choice but to grow up among humans, hiding their identities. This isolation and rejection drove the changelings mad. Turning them wicked, bloodthirsty, and endlessly hungry. And if humans discovered there was one living among them, the punishment was often death.
My heart raced.
Viola stumbled back a step as if the words had assaulted her. “That’s madness,” she gasped, a hand over her chest.
Timothy squirmed. “There’s support for the idea. Some villagers seem convinced.”
“What? Why?” John asked, his face now roughly the color of sour milk.
Timothy’s tongue flicked over his lower lip. “The thing is, Serena’s always been a little, well, she’s always looked …” he trailed off.
Pathetic.
A raging tempest swelled and swept me along in its wake. My voice shook, but not with fear. “I know I’m odd, Timothy. You can say it.”
“Rats and flies,” John ejected, using his favorite curse. “You’re not odd, Serena, and even if you were, that doesn’t make you a changeling.”
Timothy towered over John, and yet he still lowered his head when subjected to his glare. He mumbled, “It’s just, everyone knows changelings eat a lot.”
My gut twisted.
“And Elain pointed out … well, you’re always here at the bakery. The girls in the village say it’s unnatural for someone to eat so much and to never gain weight.”
“Of course,” Viola blurted out, crossing her arms. “Why wouldn’t the elders listen to the testimony of a bunch of silly, jealous girls? That makes perfect sense!”
John murmured something pacifying, but I barely noticed. Again, this proved another masterful move by Elain. I was the perfect scapegoat for a frightened, grieving village. And with my father gone, there was no one with enough influence to protect me. I was easy prey.
A flash of searing heat flared at my throat, and my hand flew to the gem.
“Serena?” Timothy shot me a little pleading look. “They want to keep you in the holding room in the Hall until …”
“Until the trial?” I finished, glaring at him.
At least he had the decency to look embarrassed.
“Over my dead body,” Viola snarled. A tiger in disguise.
Timothy gaped at her while John looked to me. I saw the offer behind his gaze. He would follow my lead: my decision. There was only one path to take. I had to protect them even if it meant facing the wolves to do it.
“I’ll go,” I said to Timothy who sighed, relieved.
“No.” Viola spun to stare at me, ashen-faced. “This isn’t right. You don’t deserve this.”
I managed a small shrug. “Maybe not, but if people got what they deserved, Father would still be alive and Gus and Elain would the ones in the ground.”
Timothy’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. I ignored him and spoke to John and Viola. “I promise you both, I’m not going down easily. I’ll tell the elders what happened. They won’t believe me, but the story will stick. Enough to make life difficult for them. And when more children go missing after … whatever they do with me, people might finally see Elain and Gus for the monsters they are.”
My adoptive family stood staring at each other. It was John who broke the silence. “We would’ve been proud to call you our daughter, Serena Smith.”
I forced out thickly, “I hoped I would’ve deserved parents like you.”
I went to walk past Viola, but her arm shot out to stop me. Pulling me into a rough hug, she whispered in my ear, “We’ll be at the trial. You won’t be alone.”
She broke away and turned with me to look at Timothy. “Tell your grandfather we’ll see him in the Village Hall at noon.”
He quailed under her stare, dipping his head. In a breathy voice, he said, “Yes, Ma’am.”
I stalked straight past John and Timothy with my head held high. My eyes stung when they met with the chill dawn air, and I tried not to think about hours spent locked away in the Village Hall. Timothy moved to my side and after a sneaky sidelong glance, as if worried I might bolt, he set off, leading the way. I didn’t hear the door close behind me; I knew John and Viola would watch until I disappeared.
Chapter 4
The Trial
The Hall was centered in the heart of the village, standing as a bedrock of law and order and a witness to the rituals that made up the lifeblood of its citizens: everything from weddings and funerals, to indoor markets.
Inside, it held a large rectangular room that led to a warren of smaller ones in the back. Composed of wood, its structure was supported by pillars marked with hundreds of ancient carvings. Rows of polished oak benches split the room in two, providing an aisle, and ended in an altar or high table, depending on the occasion. Of course, today they’d have to drag out the high table to seat the members of the council.