Iย shouldnโt be daydreaming about Weston. Itโs the least productive way to spend my time. I should be focusing on measuring thimbleweed for Mistress Solomonโs ointments, or thinking about how many houses we missed this morning since Wes said it wasnโt safe to sneak into the Royal Sector. I should be thinking about how many coins I have in my purse, and whether it would be too indulgent to buy some sweets from the baker.
I should be mourning Mistress Kendall and Gillis. But thoughts of their deathsย ll me with more rage than sorrow, and my hands begin to shake, until itโs all I can do to avoidย inging rocks at the patrolmen myself.
๎ขoughts of Wes are safe, and nearly as indulgent as the sweets would be. He was pressed so tightly against me yesterday morning, his palm against my cheek, his voice so so๎ย in my ear.
When we were in danger, my brain whispers at me. It was not a romantic moment.
I donโt care.
Karri, the other assistant, is grinning at me over her own scale. Weโre the same age, but instead of the freckled tan skin and brown hair that I have, Karriโs skin is a rich, deep brown, with shiny black hair she wears twisted in a rope that reaches her waist. โWhat are you blushing about?โ she says.
I bite the inside of my lip. โNothing.โ
She leans in against the table and drops her voice, because Mistress Solomon doesnโt like it when we gossip. โTessa. Do you have a sweetheart?โ
I try not to blush. Instead, my traitorous cheeks burn hotter. โOf course not.โ
I would never hear the end of it if Weston knew I was blushing over the idea of him being my sweetheart. Never.
โWhatโs his name?โ she says.
I blink at her innocently. โWhose name?โ โTessa!โ
I add some thimbleweed to my bowl and begin to smash it with the pestle, grinding it against the stone. โItโs nothing.ย ๎ขereโs nothing.โ
She pouts, but her brown eyes are twinkling. โTell me about his hands.โ Unbidden, my thoughts summon the image of the apple held between his
ngers.
I sigh. I canโt help it.
She bursts out laughing. โYou have a sweetheart.โ I glance at the front of the shop. โShh.โ
โIf you wonโt tell me his name, will you tell me what he looks like?โ
Words come to mind so quickly that itโs a miracle they donโt fall out of my mouth.ย He looks like revolution. He looks like compassion. Blue eyes and gentle hands and quick feet and a core of strength and steel.
I grind hard with my pestle, and Karri laughs again. I wonder how dark my cheeks have gotten.
โI canโt wait to meet him,โ she says.
๎ขat will never happen. I sigh for an entirely di๏ฌerent reason now. โIs he from Artis?โ she asks.
I have to give her something, or sheโll never stop rooting for information. โSteel City,โ I say.
โSteel City! A metalworker, then.โ
โHmm.โ I add more thistleroot to my bowl.
โSteel City?โ says Mistress Solomon. Sheโs caught wind of our conversation, and she leaves the front of the shop to come peer at what weโre doing. โAre you talking about the smugglers?โ
โWhat smugglers?โ says Karri.
โ๎ขere was an announcement from the Royal Sector at midday.ย ๎ขey caught a pack of smugglers from Steel City. Ten of them, all from the same forge.โ
My blood goes cold.
Mistress Solomon tsks under her breath. โWeโre lucky the night patrol looks out for the people, you know.ย ๎ขose criminals deserve everything they get. We all get our allotment of medicine. No one needs to be greedy.โ
I bite my tongue. Not everyone gets an allotment of the Moonย ower petals, and she well knows it. Only those who can pay for it.ย ๎ขatโs how she
makes such a market from her ointments and potionsโitโs cheaper to buy from her. Itโs cheaper because it doesnโt really work, but I canโt say that if I want to keep my job. Back when the healing e๏ฌects of the Moonย ower was
rst discovered, there were hundreds of charlatans who tried to pass o๏ฌย other leaves and petals as the Moonย owerโbut when the king put as strict a penalty on fraud as he did on smuggling, the fake petals quickly went away. Itโs easier to just steal it than to grow and nurture something that simply looks the same.
๎ขere are plenty of shop owners like Mistress Solomon, though. People who canโt cure the fevers, but who claim to โhelpโ with symptoms. I wouldnโt work for a true swindler, but Mistress Solomon seems to mean well. Most of the potions we create are for frivolous things like clear skin or shiny hair or trouble with sleep. Sometimes her mixtures wonโt work, but I know what will, and I adjust my measurements accordingly.
I keep notes in my fatherโs notebooks of what cures the feversโthe Moonย owerโand what doesnโt: everything else.
My ears are still ringing with what Mistress Solomon said: ten smugglers were captured. All from the same forge.
Weston. He doesnโt work with anyone else. I know he doesnโt.
But Weston isnโt even his real name. And if thatโs not real . . . maybe I donโt really know anything for sure. Maybe the ten of them are people like Wes, who pretend to be working solo with friends in other sectors who donโt know the truth.
I have no way toย nd him. No way to ask. I swallow. โDid they read o๏ฌย names?โ
โNo. Six men, four women. Two of the men died in the capture.โ
I feel dizzy. โWhenโโ I have to clear my throat. โWhen were they captured?โ
โ๎ขey didnโt say. Yesterday, today, does it matter?โ She sni๏ฌs haughtily. โYouโre overgrinding that thistleroot, Tessa.โ
โOh. Iโm sorry.โ Sheโs wrong, but she wonโt like me saying so. She doesnโt like the idea of an impertinent young woman telling her how to run her businessโwhich is how the last girl was let go. I need this job. No one thinks an eighteen-year-old girl from the Wilds could be a real apothecary. My father would have found these tinctures and remedies ridiculous, and he would have told Mistress Solomon to her faceโbut my father isnโt here to
pay my rent, so I obediently drop the pestle on the worktable and scrape out the powder.
When she moves away, Karri is eyeing me. Her voice drops very low. โIs your sweetheart a smuggler?โ
โWhat? No!โ Iโm sure my face is redder thanย re now.
She goes back to her herbs, tossing a small handful into her bowl. โMother says a lot of them are just trying to feed their own families. Sheโs heard stories of men who promise the moon, getting women to help them, and really itโs all for a half-dozen mouths to feed at home.โ
I scowl into my bowl. My stomach is churning, tying itself into knots. I donโt know whatโs worse: Wes dead at the hand of the Kingโs Justice, or Wes having a family at home.
What a thought. Dead is worse. Of course.
I always thought he was close to my age, but maybe heโs older. I only ever see him in the dark, with kohl-smudged eyes hidden behind a mask. He could easily be twice my age, I suppose.
โBe careful, Tessa,โ says Karri.
I glance up. โIโm always careful,โ I say. And then I perfectly measure my medicines to prove it.
 |
Once the dinner bells begin ringing through the streets, Karri and I are free to go. She lives at home with her family, while Iโve lived alone in a rented room in a boarding house since my parents died. She watched me all a๎ernoon and invited me to dinner, probably thinking my โsweetheartโ must have been one of the captured men. I canโt take her pitying glances for one more moment, so I turn her down and head home.
I stop in at the confectionerโs anyway, deciding it isnโt too much of an indulgence if I can hear any more gossip. As I hand my coins across, I say, โCan you believe they caught so many smugglers?โ
๎ขe clerk nods sadly and says, โ๎ขeyโll all be put to death tomorrow, I reason.โ
๎ขat icy grip on my spine refuses to loosen, especially when she adds, โI understand theyโll be doing it at the gates. You know that will draw a crowd.โ
I wish I had a way toย nd out if Wes is part of it. He canโt be.
But . . . Steel City. A forge.ย ๎ขatโs too close.
I try to bide the time in my room, but the air is too stiย ing and my nerves are too jangled. Iโll never sleep. I head for our workshop hours before weโre supposed to be there and light theย re. I thought this would be better, to sit somewhere and wait, but itโs worse. Every inch of this space is wrapped up in two yearsโ worth of memories of Wes.ย ๎ปatโs where he sits while I measure.
๎ปatโs the spot where he burned hisย nger on the woodstove.ย ๎ปatโs the window that broke during the winter storms, the one Wes boarded over while the snow swirled in.
I fall asleep in the chair, sitting up, tears on my face. When I sleep, I dream. I dream of my parents, the night they were caught by the night patrol. I remember how I was ready to burst from my hiding place, ready to tackle the patrolmen myself. Wes caught me and kept me out of sight that nightโbut in my dream, heโs caught, too, his body jerking as arrows pierce hisย esh. I dream of Wesโs body hung from the gates or his head on a stake. I see him broken and burning in a pile of bodies, while onlookers yell, though some cheer. I dream of him screaming for me, shouting warnings while they beat him with clubs, smashing his bones.
โTessa.ย Tessa.โ
I open my eyes and there he is. For a moment, I think this is a new dream, that Iโve been so worried that my imagination has conjured him into this space, and Iโll wake up for real and the workshop will still be empty.
But heโs not. Heโs real and solid and his blue eyes are bright as ever behind the mask. My eyes well with relief, and I donโt even bother to stop the tears from running over.
โYouโre crying?โ he says, and he sounds so startled about the fact that Iโmย cryingย over him that I want to punch him right in the face.
Instead I lurch forward and throw my arms around his neck. โTessa,โ he says. โ๎ขis is so sudden.โ
โShut up, Wes. I hate you.โ โAh yes. Quite obviously.โ
I giggle through my tears against his shoulder. I should let him go. I donโt.
He doesnโt either.
I want to ask if he knows about the people who were arrested, but instead, all that comes out of my mouth is, โDo you have a wife and a house full of
children to feed?โ โNo. Do you?โ
I sni๏ฌย and draw back to stare at him. For all his teasing, his eyes are serious, searching mine.
โYou were right,โ he says. โAbout the children?โ
He grins. โNo. No children.โ He shakes his head at me like Iโm addled. โNo, you were right that I should see you without your mask.โ
I gasp and slap my hands to my bare cheeks.
Westonโs grin turns wolย sh. โI regret not taking you up on the o๏ฌer earlier.โ
I sink back into the chair and press my hands over my eyes, but of course itโs too late nowโand truly, he was the one who never wanted to see me. โI was . . . upset. I wasnโt thinking. I was so worried.โ My voice breaks on the last word.
He drops into the opposite chair. โTell me all your fears.โ
โI thought you were one of the smugglers who got captured.โ
His face goes still, and his eyes seem to shutter. โIโm not a smuggler, Tessa.โ
โI know. I know youโre not.ย Weโreย not.โ I have to swipe at my eyes. โI justโ they were from Steel City, so I thought maybeโโ
โYou see every single petal I take from the Royal Sector.โ His eyes have gone cold. โIโve never sold anything that weโve taken. What we doโโ
โWes! I know.โ
โWhat we do,โ he repeats, his tone as sharp as Iโve ever heard it, โis not the same as what the smugglers do. Iโm not in this to line my pockets.โ
โI know,โ I cry. โWes, I know.โ I sni๏ฌ. โMe too. But itโs all the same to the king and his brother.โ
He draws a long breath, then runs a hand down his face. When he looks back at me, his eyes are no longer so hard. โYouโre right. Forgive me.โ
I press myย ngers into my eyes. โAnd I know you always tell me not to grow attached, but youโre the only true friend I have, especially sinceโsince
โโ My voice breaks again. โSince my parentsโโ Wes takes hold of my wrists, so gently. โTessa.โ
When he pulls me against him, I donโt resist, and he holds me for the longest time. We hold each other.ย ๎ขis is so di๏ฌerent from the other day,
when we were pressed into the shadows beside a house, hiding from the night patrol. Now itโs just me and Wes, in the warmth of the workshop, our workshop, holding on as if we can keep out all the evils of the world.
โ๎ขeyโll be executed.โ His voice is so quiet. โAt midday.โ
I nod against him. โI heard.โ I draw back and look up. โDo you think they deserve it?โ
He hesitates, and his eyes are shuttered again.ย ๎ขis isnโt something we ever talk about. Our conversations revolve around how to avoid detection. How e๏ฌective the medicines are, and whether a little browning on the petals makes a di๏ฌerence. How frivolous and wasteful the elites are. We discuss the people we lose to the fever, and the people who live.
We donโt discuss what could happen, because Iโm right.ย ๎ขe king wouldnโt care that weโre stealing to help people. If weโre caught, weโll be executed right next to the smugglers.
โI think . . . ,โ he begins, and then he shakes his head. โI think weโre wasting time. Do you have your mask?ย ๎ขe patrols have doubled because of
โโ
โWes.โ I swallow and catch his arm. His voice was so harsh when he said,ย Iโm not a smuggler, Tessa. โDo you think they deserve it?โ
โI think that very few people truly deserve what they get, Tessa.โ He pauses, and for the briefest moment, sadnessย ickers through his eyes. โFor good or for bad.โ
I think of my parents, executed in the street for doing the very thing Wes and I do. I think of Gillis, dying for lack of medicine, and Kendall, killed to leave an example. I think of the executions to come, and what that will mean for the people le๎ย behind.
I think of Weston risking his life to save mine, once upon a time, stopping me from falling to the same fate as my parents. I think of how he risks his life every night to bring medicine to people who need it.
โYou only deserve good things,โ I whisper.
He gives a small laugh without any humor to it and looks away. โDo you think so?โ
I catch his face in my palm and turn his gaze back to mine. As usual, his jaw is a little rough and a little warm, the fabric of the mask so๎ย under my
ngertips.
โI do,โ I say.
I wait for him to pull away, but he doesnโt. Maybe weโre both shaken. Maybe what happened to Kendall and Gillis has le๎ย us both reeling.ย ๎ขe air between us seems to shi๎, and his eyesย ick to my mouth. He inhales, his lips parting slightly. โLord, Tessa . . .โ
My thumb slips under the edge of his mask, shi๎ing it higher.
Weston hisses a breath, and his hand shoots out to capture my wrist. I give a small yip of surprise at the suddenness of it.
His eyes clench closed. He lets me go. Takes a step back.
โIโm sorry,โ I whisper. Iโm such a fool. Heโs always been so clear about where we stand. About whereย heย stands.
โPut your mask on,โ he says roughly. โWeโll lose the darkness.โ
I swallow and turn away, digging between the books in my apothecary pack until Iย nd it. I tie it into place over my hair with shakingย ngers. When I reach for my hat where it hangs on a hook by the window, Wes catches my arm and turns me around.
I suck in a breath, but he puts his hands on my cheeks to lean in close, and I all but melt into a puddle on theย oor. My back hits the wall of the workshop, and my head spins.
๎ขen Wesโs mouth hovers above mine, and I lose all rational thought. His thumb traces my lower lip.
โNot never, Tessa,โ he says, and his voice is so rich and deep that he could be speaking straight to my heart. โBut not like this.โ
I stare into his eyes, wide and guileless and pleading. And ever the fool, I nod.
He pulls me forward and kisses me on the forehead. I sigh. โI really do hate you.โ
โAlways for the best.โ He takes a step back, puts my hat on my headย rmly, thenย icks the brim of his own up an inch. โEight people will die at midday. Letโs see if we can get enough medicine to spare twice as many this morning.โ
