The Girl Who Drank the Moon(83)

People smiled hopefully, despite the mess. The Council of Elders languished in prison, and new council members were elected by popular vote. The name Gherland became a common insult. Wyn ran and maintained the library in the Tower, which welcomed all visitors. And finally, the Road opened, allowing citizens of the Protectorate, for the first time in their lives, to venture forth. Though not many did. Not at first.

In the center of these changes stood Ethyne—all reason and possibility, and a hot cup of tea, with a baby strapped to her chest. Antain held his small family close. I shall never leave you again, he murmured, mostly to himself. Never, never, never.



Both Xan and the Sorrow Eater had been moved to the hospital wing of the Tower. Once people understood what Sister Ignatia had done, there were calls for her imprisonment, but with every moment, the life that had been so extended in both women dwindled, bit by bit.

Any day now, Xan thought. Any moment. She had no fear of death. Only curiosity. She had no idea what the Sorrow Eater thought.



Ethyne and Antain moved Luna and her mother into the baby’s room, assuring them that Luken didn’t need his own room, and anyway they couldn’t bear to be parted from him even for a moment.

Ethyne transformed the room into a place of healing for both mother and daughter. Soft surfaces. Thick curtains for when the day became unbearable. Pretty flowers in jars. And paper. So much paper (though there always seemed to be more, and more and more). The madwoman took to drawing. Sometimes Luna helped. Ethyne prescribed soup and healing herbs. And rest. And endless love. She was fully prepared to provide all of it.

Meanwhile, Luna set herself to discovering her mother’s name. She went door to door, asking anyone who would talk to her—which wasn’t many at first. People in the Protectorate didn’t love her implicitly as people in the Free Cities did. Which was a bit of a shock, to be honest.

This will take some getting used to, Luna thought.

After days of asking, and days of searching, she returned to her mother at suppertime, kneeling at her feet.

“Adara,” she said. She pulled out her journal and showed her mother the pictures she had drawn, back before they had ever met. A woman on the ceiling. A baby in her arms. A tower with a hand extended from the windows. A child in a circle of trees. “Your name is Adara. It’s all right if you don’t remember it. I’ll keep saying it until you do. And just as your mind went skittering in every direction trying to find me, so did my heart go wandering trying to find you. Look here. I even drew a map. ‘She is here, she is here, she is here.’ ” Luna closed the journal and looked into Adara’s face. “You are here, you are here, you are here. And so am I.”

Adara said nothing. She let her hand drift onto Luna’s hand. She curled her fingers against the girl’s palm.



Luna, Ethyne, and Adara went to visit the former Grand Elder in prison. Adara’s hair had begun to grow. It curled around her face in big, black hooks, framing her large, black eyes.

Gherland frowned as they walked in. “I should have drowned you in the river,” he said to Luna with a scowl. “Don’t think I don’t recognize you. I do. Each one of you insufferable children has haunted my dreams. I would see you grow and grow even when I knew you had died.”

“But we didn’t die,” Luna said. “None of us did. Perhaps that was what your dreams were telling you. Perhaps you should learn to listen.”

“I’m not listening to you,” he said.

Adara knelt down next to the old man. She laid her hand on his knee. “The new council has said that you can be pardoned as soon as you are willing to apologize.”

“Then I shall rot in here,” the former Grand Elder huffed. “Apologize? The very idea!”

“Whether you apologize or not is irrelevant,” Ethyne said kindly. “I forgive you, Uncle. With my whole heart. As does my husband. When you apologize, however, you may begin healing yourself. It is not for us. It is for you. I recommend it.”

“I would like to see my nephew,” Gherland said, a tiny crack in his imperious voice. “Please. Tell him to come and see me. I long to see his dear face.”

“Are you going to apologize?” Ethyne asked.

“Never,” Gherland spat.

“That is a pity,” Ethyne said. “Good-bye, Uncle.”

And they left without another word.

The Grand Elder maintained his position. He remained in prison for the rest of his days. Eventually, people stopped visiting, and they stopped mentioning him—even in jest. And in time, they forgot about him altogether.



Fyrian continued to grow. Each day he flew across the forest and reported back what he had seen.“The lake is gone, filled with ash. And the workshop is gone. And Xan’s house. And the swamp. The Free Cities are still there, though. They were unharmed.”

Riding on Fyrian’s back, Luna visited each one of the Free Cities in turn. While the residents were happy to see Luna, they were shocked not to see Xan, and, at the news of her ill health, the Free Cities grieved as one. They weren’t so sure about the dragon, but when they saw how gentle he was with the children, they relaxed a bit.

Luna told them the story of a town that was under the control of a terrible Witch, who held them prisoner under a cloud of sorrow. She told them about the children. About the terrible Day of Sacrifice. About the other Witch, who found the children in the forest and brought them to safety, not knowing what horrors had delivered them into this predicament in the first place.