I tried going to sleep early. I was unsuccessful.

  Our dinner had been tasty, though devoid of any kind of meat. According to the innkeeper, game was very scarce this close to the mountains, especially as the weather grew colder. I had then mentioned the bizarre scene we’d stumbled upon in the woods, and asked if he thought there could be something wrong with the vegetation outside of town. His response had been a mixture of confusion and concern, but he’d assured us that he got his crops from what could be grown on meager farmland just outside of town and that his food had yet to make anyone ill.

  Teela, Renner and I had eaten in restrained companionship. I’d quickly managed to sniffle away any remaining tears- I was safe, at least for the moment, and in a genuinely lovely place with good food and some good company and music and delicious ciderwine and I was going to enjoy myself, dammit- and had made easy conversation with Teela about her life in Respite as we ate.

  Apparently the parents of Fae-touched individuals, rare though they were, used to be treated very kindly in her home city. Her mother had come into a large inheritance shortly before she was with child- Teela didn’t go into the specifics of any of this, and I didn’t pry- and had been able to purchase a small cottage in one of the city’s wealthier districts. Teela’s childhood had been a kind one, and when she came of age to pursue a trade- or marriage, though she mumbled with pink cheeks and downcast eyes that courtship was very likely ‘not in the cards’ for her, to which Renner had once again muttered that ‘people were morons’- she found work in the primary temple to Virtue.

  She told us that Respite had quite a few temples. But the biggest of all, the one formed of cascading waterfalls and stained glass and tiered crystal fountains, was dedicated solely to the young goddess who had poured herself out as blessed water. Teela described the temple grounds in exquisite detail, her hands and expressions growing more animated as she went. It all sounded very beautiful indeed, and I wondered if I would ever see something so lovely.

  That had turned my thoughts maudlin again, as I considered the last truly beautiful place I had seen; his house. With its alabaster stairs and silver lights and dangling jewels and all its cold, impassive grace.

  I bet the Respite temple is more wonderful than a thousand of his diamonds and carpets and ivory doors. I bet it’s warm and happy and full of life and safe.

  I stared up at the ceiling as I thought this. It was just after dusk, and after enjoying the food and drinks and music- Teela had actually started dancing with a tawny-haired young man, her eyes bright and merry- I had bid my companions a goodnight. I’d changed and crept into bed, growing steadily numb with dread but resigned to my fate.

  He hasn’t hurt me yet. And he… surely he won’t do anything too terrible until he has what he wants. And Teela will wake me up as soon as the sun rises. It’s going to be alright.

  Whatever my mind said, my body was in full disagreement. Any calming thoughts were overpowered by a racing pulse and muscles that just wouldn’t stop tensing with fear.

  I lay there for quite a while and then, after resigning myself to the fact that I simply wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep and face what night would bring, I opted to go back to the common room and get more ciderwine. Two cups had left my head with a pleasantly fuzzy, warm feeling. Perhaps another one would be enough to lull my racing heart.

  Upon reaching the landing I saw that only Master Lewen and a few older townsfolk remained. The cheerful, lively atmosphere of evening had been replaced by quiet chatter and the gentle clink of mugs against tabletops. I approached the innkeeper with a smile, which he returned warmly.

  “Everything alright, Miss? I know those rooms can get a bit drafty; I can send one of the lads to fetch an extra quilt if you like.”

  “My room is very nice, thank you. I suppose I’m just not tired enough to fall asleep yet.”

  “Ah.” He winked at me. “Well in that case, I’ve got a nice strong malt on tap. Old Jensa and her sons get mighty creative around this time of year.”

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  “Jensa?”

  “She owns the bakery up the road. Likes to try her hand at brewing now and again. Her latest batch has been popular and, if I may say, would put a bull to rest.”

  I grinned but shook my head. “I think it sounds a bit too strong for me. But I’d love some more of your Harvesttide drink, if you have any.”

  “Of course, Miss.”

  Once I had a full mug I settled into a small table not far from the fireplace. I’d brought my runebook down and, having been quite lax lately about studying the symbols within, I opened it and began to stare.

  The page after Veth was a criss-cross pattern of swirls with the word Luridel written underneath. Looking at this one had always made my head swim. I had tried to use it, once, on impulse while tending to one of Marion’s wilting tomato plants- and then promptly vomited onto the poor thing. I hadn’t tried it again.

  But… looking at it now, my head wasn’t pounding. There were no spots dancing behind my eyes, only a feeling of nervous excitement.

  I promised Renner I wouldn’t do any magic in Snowmelt. So I won’t try it. But… maybe soon. I wonder what it does. My fingertips trembled against the page.

  The sound of someone sniffling made me glance up towards the fireplace. The stablemaster was sitting alone, gnarled hands wrapped around a mug. He was staring into its contents.

  I wonder if he’s alright. He was certainly very rude earlier, but… I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for his livestock to be gone. Especially if renting horses out is how he makes his living.

  I watched as the man lifted his mug with his good hand and took a long drink. A slosh of dark brown liquid dribbled down into his beard and he wiped at it. Then he coughed and sniffled again. I frowned. Was that the shine of moisture beside his eyes? It almost looked like he’d been weeping.

  My brows knotted together and I glanced towards the innkeeper, but he seemed engrossed in cleaning a table at the far end of the room and was paying no attention to this particular patron. My gaze drifted back towards the stablemaster just as he swiped his mangled hand at his eyes.

  My heart sank. Hadn’t I made exactly the same gesture earlier, when trying to hide my own distress? I dropped my gaze, uncertain of what to do.

  He probably doesn’t want a stranger to come up and ask if he’s alright. He didn’t seem like the type to want to confide in someone he doesn’t know.

  All the same, I felt as though I had to do something. Another glance up showed that he was staring back down at the table, brows furrowed and thin lips twisted into a grimace. He seemed to be lost in thought.

  I sat quietly, sipping at my fragrant drink until the last drop was gone, then approached the man’s table. He seemed so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t look up.

  “Excuse me.”

  He jolted back as though I’d struck him, head snapping up and blue eyes widening. I drew back a bit, jarred by the expression on his weathered face; he looked almost afraid.

  The expression was gone in an instant, replaced by mottled anger. His good hand clenched around the mug. “What?”

  I took another step back, regretting my decision to approach. Probably should have left him alone. But now I’ll look even more strange if I just walk away without saying anything, so…

  I cleared my throat and offered a meek smile. “I-I’m sorry to bother you. I didn’t mean to… that is, I just… I thought you looked… unhappy.”

  He stared up, baleful eyes watering. “What?”

  I hugged the book to my chest and shrugged, feeling blood rush into my face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry for interrupting. Can I pay for your drink?”

  Some of the hostility drained from his demeanor and he swallowed heavily. “No,” he ground out, not meeting my eyes, “No, you can’t pay for my… no.”

  “Oh.” I edged backwards, feeling entirely foolish. “A-alright, then, have a good…”

  He hunched over his mug sullenly and the words died in my throat. Behind him, wavering in the dwindling firelight, his shadow remained sitting upright.

  I took another step back, breath catching in my throat. No. No. What in the realms… what is this?! What is wrong with me?

  I stared in horrified silence, waiting for the shape to correct itself, like Agnes’ had, but nothing happened. The stablemaster grunted and slashed his mangled hand through the air in my direction, clearly wanting me to leave, but I stood transfixed.

  And behind him on the wall, the arm remained still.

  I somehow managed to make my feet move. I clutched my book, white knuckles gripping the spine like a shield, and hurried towards the staircase. I nearly tripped twice on the way up, but managed to get to the top landing.

  There’s something wrong with me. There has to be. Or… or there’s something wrong with him. And Agnes. Salt, what do I do?

  Ice snaked its way through my belly as another possibility came to mind.

  Or… or it’s not me. And it’s not him or her or anything human; there’s something else here.

  The thought crawled like a pit opening beneath my feet; bleak and dark and threatening to swallow me whole. I shrank against the wall, shivering, and suddenly quite certain that this place was anything but safe.