The Poison Season(41)

Leelo didn’t know what to say. Having the entire island shun her the way it had Isola was unthinkable. If they had almost exiled her for helping an incantu, then Leelo was in even more danger than she’d thought.

“They only let me stay because I already know—” Isola cut herself off. “It doesn’t matter. Just leave this alone, Leelo. Tate isn’t coming back.” She blinked. “Unless you’re thinking of leaving yourself.”

Leelo shook her head vehemently. “No. No, of course not. There are just so many secrets on this island. Before, when it didn’t affect me, it was easy to ignore them. But losing Tate has made me question so many things.”

Isola rose and turned to face Leelo. “You’re right. This place has many secrets. And some of them are not so pleasant. But we keep them for a reason. Forget the boat. Forget the cottage. Forget about Tate, if you can.”

“I can’t,” Leelo whispered.

Isola had started to walk away, but she spun around a second later, fixing Leelo with a look that could rival Ketty’s. “Endla may be the safest place for us, Leelo, but never forget. The Wandering Forest cares about one thing and one thing only. Survival. And if pushed far enough, this island will eat its own.”



Chapter Twenty-Five


Jaren was startled awake by the strangled screech of a door opening. For a moment, he sat blinking in the pitch darkness, trying to remember where he was. And then it all came back to him in a rush: he was on Endla, wrapped in a musty blanket in a shack, waiting for a girl who might want to kill him.

The rasp of a match striking, followed by the hiss of a flaring flame, brought him fully awake.

Leelo was crouched just a few feet from him, her pale eyes bright in the candlelight. One of her hands was at her waist, where she kept her knife.

He attempted to smooth his mussed hair and sat up. He noticed with a growing sense of dread that his left leg was completely numb. A rainstorm had started in the night, and the air in the cottage was surprisingly cold. “Is everything all right?”

She shook her head and sat down fully with her back against the door, but he noticed that her hand remained on the hilt of her blade. Her hair and clothing were soaked through, clinging to her skin. She reached into a satchel near her feet and handed him something small wrapped in parchment. “I brought you food. There’s water in here, too. Plus a sweater. It can get cold at night.”

She passed him the satchel and he pulled out the waterskin and the sweater, woven in forest green wool. It was finer than any clothing he’d ever owned, and his eyes darted up to hers, questioning.

“It was my father’s,” she said. “It won’t be missed.”

From the way she said it, Jaren assumed he was either dead or estranged. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” He was about to set the sweater on the floor next to him, taking care not to undo the neat folds, when he noticed that she was shivering.

“Maybe you should put it on,” he said, holding it out.

She shook her head, still trembling. “I’m fine.”

He wasn’t going to push her. He knew from experience with his sisters that if a woman was being stubborn, there was little he could do about it. “I don’t suppose there’s another boat available?”

“There’s only one as far as I know. I don’t even know where the boat you crossed over in went, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to find it. And once I do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to fix it. Even if I can, I don’t know how we’re going to get you out of here without anyone seeing.”

“You’re thinking of turning me in, aren’t you?” He tried to keep his eyes on hers, but they darted involuntarily to her blade. He didn’t ask if she was thinking of killing him, too. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

She was silent for a moment, and when she did speak, her tone was grave. “I just want you to understand the reality of your situation. There’s a good possibility that you’ll have to stay here on Endla. At least until the lake freezes over, and that won’t be for a good six or seven months.”

Jaren swore under his breath. His family would have long since given up on him by then. They might not even stay in Bricklebury. “I can’t wait that long. I have to get back.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes until Leelo said, “I can bring you food and water. You won’t go hungry out here.”

“My leg...” He trailed off. There wasn’t anything to say, really.

“That I can help with.” Leelo produced a bottle of some kind of liquor, fresh bandages, and a jar. “If you’ll let me.”

Jaren studied her for a moment. There was none of the flirting he experienced with Lupin, and none of the teasing he was used to from his sisters. This girl was quiet and serious, her eyes wary even when her posture was relaxed. She didn’t trust him—why would she?—but he sensed that deep down, she didn’t want to hurt him. “I would be forever in your debt, if you would help me, Leelo.”

She glanced up at him, their eyes meeting for a moment.

“I am, however, going to have to insist you take the blanket.”

“I’m fine—”

“Please,” he said. “Your hands are shaking like leaves. And I’d really like to keep my leg, if possible.”