On a good day, Weston and I can make over a hundred deliveries of the elixir. I once thought weโd be better o๏ฌย making our rounds separately, because we could hit twice as many families, but Wes insists that one of us should always stand as lookoutโand honestly, the stoppered vials get so heavy that I doubt I could carry enough for one hundred homes by myself.
Some days it feels impossible.ย ๎ขousands are su๏ฌering. Possibly tens of thousands. We hardly make a dentโand sometimes weโre too late, or we canโt steal enough, or someone falls ill so quickly that the medicine refuses to work.
๎ขose are the worst, when someone goes from mild body aches to dead between one visit and the next.
Today, weโre able to get started on our rounds quickly, because we built up a good stash of crushed petals yesterday, so we donโt need to waste time thieving. I wonโt admit this to Wes, but Iโm still a little shaky over the few moments he was late. Heโd never let me hear the end of it. As it is, weโre walking through the woods while he whistles under his breath. He probably thinks I donโt know the melody, a bawdy tavern song about a sailor wooing a maiden, but my father used to sing them all the time when he was busy crushing roots and measuring medicines, just because they would make my mother blush and giggle.
๎ขoughts of my parents still have the power to make my throat tight, so I shove them away and kick at pebbles in the path.
โYou shouldnโt whistle that song,โ I say. โItโs vulgar.โ
He glances over and knocks the brim of my hat down a few inches. โLove is never vulgar, Tessa.โ
โOh, you think itโs a song about love, do you?โ
โWell, Iโm certain the maiden feelsย somethingย for the sailor. Why else would she be removing her underthings?โ
Now my cheeks are heated, and Iโm glad for the darkness and the mask. I donโt want to give him the satisfaction of hearing me giggle. โYouโre incorrigible.โ
โOn the contrary. I amย highlyย corrigible.โ Heย shes an apple from his pack and o๏ฌers it to me. โBreakfast?โ
I blink at him. We didnโt have time to go into the Royal Sector this morning. I donโt like the thought of Wes going without my knowledge. Some days I wonder what I would do if he simply . . . vanished.
I shouldnโt be so attached. I know I shouldnโt. But since my parents were executed, the only constant in my life has been Wes.ย ๎ขe thought of fate yanking him away, too . . . I almost canโt bear it.
He must be able to read my expression in the forest shadows, because he says, โI saved one from yesterday.โ
โOh.โ I hesitate. My stomach is still empty, but men who work in the forges donโt get a lot of opportunities to eat, and Iโm sure Wes is no di๏ฌerent. โNoโyou have it.โ
He doesnโt argue, and he bites into it, his crunching loud in the early morning air. โYou sure?โ he says, holding it out. โ๎ขe honeyโs gone cold, but itโs still sweet.โ
When I hesitate again, he picks up my hand and presses the fruit into it. โLord, Tessa. Just share the apple.โ
Hisย ngers are warm against mine, and I try not to think about the fact that his lips were just against this piece of fruit. I twist it to bite at a di๏ฌerent spot.
He starts whistling that stupid drinking song again. I roll my eyes and take a second bite.
Many of the sectors in Kandala have open borders, with the exception of three: the Royal Sector, where the king and his brother and all of the elites live, plus Moonlight Plains and Emberridge, where the Moonย ower grows.
๎ขose sectors are heavily guarded and walled o๏ฌ, and also boast the healthiestโand wealthiestโpopulations.ย ๎ขe Royal Sector sits in the center of Kandala, though, bordered byย ve others. Mosswell sits to the north, which is mostly livestock and produce. Artis is east, known for its massive
lumber trade because of the proximity to the Queenโs River.ย ๎ขe Sorrowlands is a vast sector to the west, composed mostly of desert.
South of the Royal Sector are Steel City, home to metalworkers and machinists thanks to its proximity to the iron mines, and Traderโs Landing, which has a bustling market that runs parallel to the Flaming River for miles. Itโs sometimes called Traitorโs Landing, ever since their chief consul killed the king and queen.
๎ขe lands immediately surrounding the Royal Sector are heavily wooded and di๏ฌcult to travel, dense with underbrush and brambles and thornsโthe best place for our workshop, especially since itโs far from the main gates, and our little woodย re never makes much smoke.
Beyond the woods are the lands where most of the sectors come together to surround the Royal Sector like spokes on a wheel.ย ๎ขe area is densely populated because of the closeness to the Royal Sectorโand itโs also dense with poverty, illness, and armed guards watching for smugglers and troublemakers. My father used to say that the royal elites would sneer and call these lands the Wilds, a slur against the people forced to live and work there. But the people claimed the name for their own, and now living in the Wilds is almost seen as a point of pride, where sector borders are blurred and the people all feel united by desperation.
We always start in the Steel City part of the Wilds, because itโs closest to our workshop, and I think Wes is less worried about getting caught by anyone he might know. We trade lookout at each house, because we canโt just leave the vials and vanish into the night. We wake each person, make sure they drink every drop, then take our vials and leave. Leave no evidence, Wes always says. No proof.
๎ขe streets are empty and quiet in the early morning darkness, but Wes isnโt whistling now. We slip from house to house in the shadows.
At theย ๎h house, I step up onto the porch just as a low moan sounds from inside. I hesitate with my hand an inch from the wood.
Weston is instantly at my side, appearing out of the darkness. โTessa.
Whatโs wrong?โ
๎ขe moan sounds again, and he freezes.
Mistress Kendall lives here with her son, Gillis. Kendallโs husband died two years ago, but she and Gillis havenโt shown any sign of the fever since, and they were two people Iโve felt we were helping. Gillis is thirteen, and he
works as a runner for the forge closest to here. Heโs a hard worker, and he o๎en whispers that he wants to join me and Wes once heโs old enough. We havenโt seen him in a week because his mother said heโs been making early morning runs for suppliesโbut it means heโs been missing the doses we bring.
Wes taps at the door lightly, and for a moment, we hear only silence.ย ๎ขen a fractured sob from inside.
Wesโs eyes meet mine. I swallow.
He closes hisย ngers around the latch and eases the door open. Kendall is kneeling on theย oor in the dark, a body wrapped up in blankets by her knees. She snaps her head up with a gasp.
Gillis. I suck in a breath, too. Wes puts aย nger to his lips and shakes his head, and Iโm not sure if itโs at me or her. Probably both.
โTessa,โ Mistress Kendall cries out anyway, half yelp, half sob. โWes. Heโs dying.โ
Dying.
Not dead. Yet.
I stride forward and drop to a knee beside her. Gillisโs eyes are closed, and his dark hair is matted with sweat.ย ๎ขatโs usually a good sign, meaning the fever has broken, but I think it has more to do with the blankets sheโs got wrapped around him. Iโm surprised we didnโt hear his breathing from the door.ย ๎ขe death rattle in his chest is clear.
My own chest tightens. โCan you sit him up?โ I whisper. โWe brought medicine.โ
But weโll be too late. I can see weโll be too late. Heโs not even conscious.
๎ขereโs no way he can drink a doseโand little chance itโll do any good at this point.
Kendall nods hurriedly, and Wes meets my eyes. His expression is resigned, but he gets an arm under the boyโs shoulders to help. Gillisโs small bodyย ops lifelessly, his head lolling against Wesโs shoulder. Iย sh one of the vials out of my pack and pull the cork free. Myย ngers are trembling.
โGillis,โ says Wes, and his voice is very low, very so๎. โGillis, open your eyes.โ
We all hold our breath. Hoping. Praying. Waiting.
In the beginning, when the fever began to steal lives, many people believed that it spread through close contact, especially since it seemed to
a๏ฌect those in the Wilds before striking the elites in the Royal Sector.ย ๎ขe gates to the Royal Sector were kept locked for weeks. But my father kept records of those who grew ill, and as cases began to appear at random, even among those who closed themselves away, it quickly became apparent that the fevers had nothing to do with close contact. Iโve kept up my fatherโs books, and thereโs no pattern to it.ย ๎ขe illness might take one lifeโor a dozen.
It might leave an entire family unscathedโor it might leave a half-dozen bodies waiting for the next funeral pyre.
A sob breaks free from Mistress Kendallโs chest again. Just when Iโve begun to give up hope, Gillis coughs hard, then blinks. โMa?โ he croaks.
Kendall gasps. โGillis! Oh, Gillis!โ She presses her hands to his cheeks. He blinks again slowly.
โShh,โ says Wes. โ๎ขe night patrol will hear. Tessa?โ
I take a deep breath for theย rst time since we came through the doorway. โHere.โ I hold out the vial. โGillis, you have to drink.โ
He coughs wetly. โYes, Miss Tessa.โ
While Wes helps him drink, I dig through my pack hurriedly, pushing the vials of elixir aside, looking for my bottle of morningwood oil. A few drops will help rouse a drunk or someone with a head injury, but Iโve learned that it will also help the Moonย ower elixir work more quickly.
Mistress Kendall is kissing his forehead, his cheek, her breath shaking, her handsย uttering. โOh, Gillis,โ she whispers against his temple.
His hand li๎s weakly to touch her cheek, but I pull the dropper of morningwood free. โ๎ขis too,โ I whisper.
His dry lips part, and I tap three droplets into his mouth. His throat works as he swallows.
โ๎ขere,โ says Wes. Heย nds Gillisโs hand and gives it a squeeze. โYouโll be slipping through the shadows with us in no time.โ
Gillis blinks, but then a slow smileย nds his mouth. โPromise.โ โI promise.โ
Mistress Kendall presses a kiss to his cheek again, murmuring nonsense, but the love in her tone is pure and clear. I put a hand on her shoulder. She looks at me, tears gathering in her eyes.
Gillis coughs, hard, then tries to inhale, but the muscles of his neck stand out as heย ghts for air. Hisย ngers dig into Wesโs arm.
โSlow,โ Wes says, but I can hear the concern underlying his tone. โSlow, Gillis. Breathe.โ
๎ขe boyโs jaw clenches tight, and his back arches, hisย ngers grasping at nothing.
๎ขen heย ops back against Wesโs shoulder, his entire body limp. Kendall is frozen. Iโm frozen.
Wes is the one who moves, laying the boyย at, pulling the blankets free. He presses twoย ngers to Gillisโs throat, then drops to put an ear against his chest.
Gillis doesnโt move.
Wes looks up. His eyes are blue pools of sadness.
โNo!โ Kendallโs voice is a sudden shriek, full of rage and pain and fear that echoes in my own chest. โNo!โ
Somewhere in the distance a dog starts barking.
She keeps screaming. โ๎ขis is their fault!ย ๎ขat horrible king or his horrible brother or any of those other horrible people who live on the other side of that wall. I hate them! I hate them! I hateโโ
Weston grabs her arm and slaps a hand over her mouth. His voice is a low rush of words. โKendall. Get a hold of yourself.โ
โWes,โ I whisper.
โItโs treason,โ he snaps at me. โIf the night patrol hears, theyโll kill her, too.โ
โI donโt care,โ she moans. Sheโs sagging against him. โLet them kill me. Let them see what theyโve done to my boy.โ
I take a long, shuddering breath. โKendallโIโm so sorry.โ
โHe was just a boy.โ She inhales, then seems to steel herself, and she runs a hand against her sonโs face. โItโs their fault, you know.โ Rageย lls her voice again. โ๎ขey sit in there healthy, and they leave the rest of us to live or die.โ
Weโve heard this a hundred times. Weโll hear it a hundred more. Itโs why we do this. Because sheโs right.
Wes pulls a vial from his bag and holds it out. โYou need to take yours, Kendall.โ
She takes the vial in her shaking hand, and I think sheโs going to pull the stopper and drink it, but instead she moves to hurl it into the darkness. I gasp.
Always quick, Wes snatches it out of the air before it goes far. โDonโt let your grief make you stupid.โ
His voice isnโt unkind, but sheย inches and all but crumples onto her sonโs body. โGive it to someone who wants to live. I donโt.โ
I hesitate, then put a hand over hers. โKendall,โ I whisper. โKendall, Iโm so sorry.โ
She turns her hand to clasp mine within hers. โYou know what itโs like,โ she says. โYou lost someone, too.โ
โYes,โ I say. My father. My mother. Iโll never be able to erase the moment of their death from my memory. Unbidden, tears form in my own eyes.
โSomeone needs to stop them,โ says Kendall, her breath shaking. โSomeone needs to stop them, Tessa.โ
โI know,โ I say. โFor now, we do what we can.โ
She nods, then li๎s my hand and kisses my knuckles.
โYou should drink your medicine,โ Wes says gently. โGillis would want you to.โ
โGillis canโt care anymore.โ She draws a shuddering breath. โGo. Both of you. Donโt waste your potions on me.โ
I inhale to refuse, and her face contorts with fury. โGo!โ she shouts. โGo!
You remind me of him.ย Go!โ I jerk back.
โTessa,โ says Wes. He catches my elbow.
I donโt want to leave. We shouldnโt leave her like this, a broken husk of a woman sobbing over the body of her son.
But Wes is right.
โWeโll tell Jared Sexton,โ I say to her quietly, referring to a woodworker a few houses away. Heโs big and burlyโand usually the one who drags bodies to the pyre for burning. โIโll check on you tomorrow.โ
She doesnโt answer. Sheโs sobbing into her hands now.
We slip away into the shadows, our feet practiced at making no sound on the pathways. Weston must see or hear something, though, because he quickly jerks me into the pit of darkness by the corner of the next house. My back is against the building, and heโs all but pressed against me, his head ducked, partially blocking mine.
โWhatโโ I begin, but his eyes jerk to mine, and his head shakes almost invisibly.
I peer past him.ย ๎ขereโs little light, but now I can hear the booted footsteps of the night patrol. Wes was rightโthey likely heard Kendallโs screams, and now theyโre here to check it out. Itโs too dark for me to see her. Maybe they wonโt see anything, and theyโll pass by.
But no. Kendall comesย ying through her door. โYou killed him!โ she screams. She has a rock in each hand. Oneย ies, and a man cries out. โYou tell that pig of a king and his evil brother that theyโll burn for theirโโ
A crossbowย res.ย ๎ขe arrow hits with a sickening sound. Her voice goes silent, and her body drops.
I whimper. Against me, Wes goes rigid. One of the patrolmen kicks her body.
โLeave it,โ says one of the others. โ๎ขeyโllย nd her.โ
Another one spits at the ground. Maybe at her. โ๎ขeyโll never learn.โ โTessa.โ Westonโs voice is a bare hiss in my ear. โMind your mettle, girl.
๎ขeyโll kill you, too.โ
His weight is against me, pressing me into the wall, his hand over my mouth. I donโt realize Iโm struggling against him until I stop. My eyes meet his, and when I blink, he goes blurry.
โI know,โ he whispers.
My breathing shudders. I clench my eyes closed. His hand comes o๏ฌย my mouth.
I press my face into his shoulder, shaking with tears like a child.
A๎er a moment, his hand presses to my cheek below the mask, his thumb brushing away the tears that slip down my face. โI know,โ he says again. โI know.โ
At some point, my tears slow, and I realize that Wes is nearly holding me, and I want to stand right here in this circle of his comfort, because the idea of anything else is too terrible.ย ๎ขe thought feels immeasurably selย sh in the face of what happened to Kendall and Gillis, but I canโt help it. Wes is warmth and safety and . . . friendship.
He draws back at exactly that moment, his hand falling to his side. Heโs looking into the distance, his eyes searching for trouble. โWe should head west now.ย ๎ขe night patrol is already keyed up. I donโt want to take a chance. If we have time, we can double back and do the rest.โ
I swallow and try to force my thoughts into some kind of coherent pattern. โYes. Sure.โ I sni๏ฌย back the last of my tears and swipe at my face. Iโm
full of sorrow now, but I know from experience that later itโs going to rearrange itself into rage. โShould weโshould we do something about her body?โ
โNo,โ he says. He reaches out to straighten my hat. โ๎ขeyโre right.
Someone willย nd the body.โ โWeston!โ
โShh.โ He puts aย nger to his mouth, and he shakes his head. โIโm not being callous. We canโt help her anymore, Tessa.โ He adjusts his pack, the vials clinking. โWe do have rounds.โ
โRight.โ I swallow. โRounds.โ
We head into the darkness again, shi๎ing silently through the night. Westonโs usual lighthearted banter is gone. His whistling is silent.ย ๎ขe air is heavy, as if we carry the weight of what happened along with us.
โI hate the king,โ I whisper. โI hate the prince. I hate what theyโve done. I hate what Kandala has become.โ
My voice is so so๎ย that I wonder if he can even hear me, but a๎er a moment, Wes reaches out to take my hand. He gives it a squeeze, for just a second longer than necessaryโthe only sign that this a๏ฌected him as profoundly as it did me.
โMe too,โ he says.
๎ขen he lets go and nods at the horizon, any hint of vulnerability gone. โMorning is coming. Weโll have to step quick.โ
