The Poison Season(97)

It was strange, to be a stranger. To feel the eyes of every villager following her when she went into town. No one was ever cruel to her, and over time they began to speak to her—and eventually accept her, when they knew she wasn’t going to lure away their children with one of her wicked songs or seduce their partners in the night. She was just a girl, they would come to realize. A girl wanting to be accepted, a girl who had never wanted to harm anything.

But there was Jaren, and his very existence helped on even the hardest days. His sisters had warmed to her, especially Sofia, who followed Leelo around like she was some kind of mythical creature.

You still have magic, even if you don’t sing, Jaren had said to Leelo one time as she lay in his arms, winding his fingers through her hair gently. It reminded her of what Sage had told her, and she reached into her pocket to touch the crude swan carving her cousin had made.

She still missed Sage sometimes, and even, every now and then, Aunt Ketty. Leelo couldn’t help feeling that if she’d known the truth all along, things could have been different. Ketty had killed Uncle Hugo, but she’d done it to protect her sister, and that altered Leelo’s perspective of everything. It was such a Ketty thing to do, to defend one thing at the complete expense of another. To be so afraid of what the truth could do that she would literally bury it. Sage had been fed a different poison than Fiona, but it was no less bitter, no less destructive.

Mostly, though, she missed her mother. Knowing that she was so close yet so far away kept her up at night. Tate still cried for Fiona in his sleep, and while Leelo did her best to comfort him, she often wished there was someone there to comfort her.

One November night, she, Tate, Jaren, and Nigel were sitting on the porch of Leelo’s cottage, wrapped in blankets and scarves against the cold.

“The lake will be frozen soon,” Nigel said. “Two more months, at most.”

As badly as Leelo wanted to get her mother, a part of her was afraid of what they would find when they went. What if Mama didn’t want to come with them? Worse still, what if she hadn’t survived? At least from here Leelo could convince herself that things on Endla were as they’d always been.

Leelo had told Nigel about Ketty poisoning her mother, but she’d kept that and many other things from Tate. She knew one day she’d have to tell him everything, but she didn’t want to add to his heartache. Hers was profound enough for both of them.

“Yes,” Leelo said. “We’ll go as soon as it’s safe to cross.”

Nigel smiled and Sir Percival sighed, tucking his long nose under the edge of Nigel’s blanket.

“What about Story’s friends?” Tate offered. “The other incantu. I bet they miss their families, too.”

Nigel and Leelo shared a glance. Tate was right. If anyone had an interest in uncovering the truth, it was the exiled children of Endla, the ones who had lost everything because of the Wandering Forest.

“I bet Story would be happy to pay Grimm a visit,” Jaren said, and their laughter echoed in the dying light.

They waited two months before they made the journey back to Endla. January was the coldest month, when they could be sure the ice was as solid as possible. Leelo believed the others would be safe from any singing, now that the Forest was gone, but they wore wool in their ears, just in case.

Grimm, the leader of the incantu, had managed to gather up more than twenty to join them. They were children who had been forcibly taken from their parents and thrust into the world alone. As Tate had guessed, they wanted a chance to reunite with their families. And many of them wanted answers.

It had taken a lot of convincing to keep Tate at home with Lupin and Jaren’s sisters, where he would be safe. But Oskar, Stepan, and several other villagers had agreed to come. Leelo stood among them now, gripping Jaren’s hand and praying that whatever they found, Mama was safe.

They crossed the ice silently. Leelo was half-sure the ice would give way beneath them, but they were spread out, and it was a particularly ferocious winter, like the year Nigel had accidentally gone to Endla. The ice held.

As they drew closer, Leelo couldn’t help but notice how desolate the island looked. There were a few remaining trees, some bushes and shrubs, but what stood out starkly against the snow were the cottages. Miraculously, they hadn’t all burned. She could see candles glowing in several windows, and the familiar scent of woodsmoke pluming from the chimneys gave her hope.

But though she was relieved to see that at least some Endlans had survived the fire, this place that she had once loved no longer felt like home. It felt sinister and dead, not like the living, thriving Forest she’d once known. There were no animals rustling in the brush, no leaves whispering overhead. It was winter, and the Forest was always quiet at this time of year. But it was a different kind of silence that lay over the island like a blanket, and, for a moment, Leelo was hit by a wave of fear, that perhaps no one had survived, that it was ghosts who lit those candles and sat by those fires.

As they approached the pine grove, a shape materialized just feet in front of them. Leelo gasped. Wildcat eyes and fiery hair blazed out of the white and black of the winter landscape.

“Sage,” Leelo breathed. Despite everything, despite the hurt and betrayal, Leelo still cared about her. She wasn’t sure if she could call it love. But loyalty was a difficult thing to quell, and Leelo wanted to believe that Sage would have made different choices in another world.