Give the Dark My Love(64)

“Yes, but—”

“So take a break. Just for a little while, give yourself some time to breathe. And if you’re not going to tell me more about Grey, then I’m going to tell you about Kyln.” Ernesta strode down the street, not looking back to see if I was following.

“Kyln?” I asked. “The fisherman’s boy?”

A group of children raced past us, shouting to each other.

“The fisherman’s man,” Ernesta said. “Pulling up nets all day does wonderful things to biceps.”

I laughed at her enthusiasm. Kyln was only the flavor of the month; Ernesta was as easily distracted by beautiful men and women alike. But I was glad to see she was over Kava, the shoemaker’s apprentice who’d died of the plague soon after I left for Yūgen.

I wondered what Nessie would do if she ever met Grey, with his narrow chin and broad chest and that perfect spot on his shoulder that seemed as if it were made for me to place my head. And his eyes, brown with gold flecks. Whenever he looked at me, it felt as if I were the center of the universe.

I didn’t notice that Ernesta had stopped until I almost bumped into her. Her eyes were wide, staring at the heavy black curtains being strung up over the windows of the house four doors away from our own.

“The Longshires,” I said, thinking of the family who lived inside. When I left for Yūgen, Sarai Longshire was pregnant with her first child, and Benn Longshire was ecstatically telling everyone he knew.

The group of children who’d rushed past us threw rocks at the little house.

“Have some respect!” Ernesta said, rushing forward and snatching a stone from the closest boy’s hand.

“Elder Gryff said we could,” the boy said in a snotty voice.

“You’re Levin, aren’t you?” I asked.

He glared up at me. “You’re the girl who went to live down south.” He picked up another stone and threw it at the window. It plinked on the glass.

“Let them throw rocks,” I told Ernesta as I pretended to walk away. “When they break a window, they’ll be the first to be infected by the plague.”

I smiled as a half dozen stones clattered to the ground. “Really?” Levin asked.

“What’s the point of sealing someone who’s sick in their house if you break a window and let the sickness escape?” I said.

Levin considered me for a moment, then turned to the other children. “Come on,” he said, and they ran off.

Ernesta bowed her head and turned toward home. I grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Is a healer coming?” I asked. “For the Longshires?”

“I don’t know,” Ernesta said. “None came last time.”

My stomach twisted. “Last time?” I gasped.

“Mama didn’t want me to tell you,” she said, looking away. “But there’ve been two other families infected this month. The Xandies and the Redavs.”

“The Redavs?”

“They all . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. There were seventeen members of the Redav family, all living in the big farmhouse half a mile outside of the main village. All of them . . . gone.

“I didn’t know,” I said. “There’s no black bunting on our gates.”

Ernesta laughed, but the sound wasn’t joyous. “They don’t do that when there are only a few cases,” she said. “Kava was one of the first.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

“But she lived farther out. Not really in town, you know.” Ernesta kept talking as if I’d not spoken. “And just two—three families in town. It’s not so bad.” She saw my face. “It’s not,” she insisted.

She started back toward the road home, but I didn’t. I stared at the Longshires’ door for several more moments, and then I turned on my heel, racing down the hill toward my house, rushing past Ernesta, still carrying the meat for dinner. I burst through the front door, bounded down the hall to the room I shared with my twin, and rooted around in my bag until I had my golden crucible in my hand. Then I dashed back out the house and toward the Longshires’. Ernesta called something to me as I raced past her, but I didn’t catch it.

I couldn’t cure them. I knew that. But I could help ease their pain. I had to do something.

I pushed open the Longshires’ yard gate and marched toward the front door.

“Nedra Brysstain!” a voice bellowed so loudly that I jumped in surprise.

Elder Gryff strode toward me, his old face turned down in a deep frown. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“I’m going to help,” I said. “I’ve been working at the hospital in Northface Harbor; I’ve treated dozens—hundreds of plague patients. I can help.”

“There is no cure.”

“No,” I confessed, “but I could alleviate their pain until a surgeon arrives.” I turned back to the door, but Elder Gryff grabbed my wrist and dragged me forcefully back through the yard gate and onto the street.

“Let me go!” I shouted, trying to pull away.

“I’ve heard what you do in the hospitals, Nedra,” Elder Gryff said, and there was some emotion in his voice . . . was it sympathy? “But we cannot allow that here. When someone falls sick, their home is closed. That’s the way.”