Lilith snorted behind me.
“They have the best hot toddy.” Cecily grinned, rubbing her gloved hands together.
“Come with us.” Myra smiled. “It’s really nice.”
I blinked.
“Yes!” Cecily agreed, too sharp, earning a disapproving neigh from the horses. “You’ve to see Thornborough. And try the hot toddy,” she pressed.
I glanced back at Lilith. She was watching me with the same calm stare I started to think she always wore.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” I said slowly. “I don’t even know how to gallop.”
“You don’t need to.” Myra’s smile was warm, as usual. “It’s a short ride.”
“Moonlight and mysterious strangers, if we’re lucky.” Cecily giggled.
“Cecily,” Myra warned, though she was smiling as well.
I bit down on my bottom lip, considering my answer. Truthfully, I wanted to join them, but my mum’s words kept creeping in. A night ride with two girls I barely knew hardly ranked as a wise decision. But as I glanced at Lilith, I realised my mind was already made up. My mum had her own adventures, her own secrets. So now, I shall have some of my own.
“Alright.” I blew out a shaky breath instead of refusing. The word felt like rebellion on its own.
Cecily sucked in a sharp breath. “Really?” Her grin widened, and I nodded, still slightly unsure of my decision. “It’s going to be so romantic!” she squeaked excitedly, making me flinch and Ghost neigh in what I suspected was disapproval.
But I wouldn’t back out. Not now.
Thornborough satat the foot of Thornhill, crooked and weather-worn, the kind of place that never quite made it into modern times. The houses leaned into each other like old gossipers, the windows clouded as the chimneys coughed the last of their smoke into the dark sky. Ivy strangled most of the brickwork, and signs swung with moaning hinges from the wind.
We led the horses on reins through the cobbled roads, where moss pushed through the cracks like the land was trying to reclaim its own skin.
I couldn’t help but wonder if my mum ever stepped foot here. If she ever looked at these old houses and wondered about their pasts, about who lived in them now. Then I felt silly because of course she did. She once lived not more than ten minutes from here.
We halted on a narrow street, wrapped almost in complete silence, if not for the pub at the far end. Its windows gilded with light, revealing the wooden sign that hung above, swinging lazily.The Grey Maiden, it read with faded, barely readable letters.
Cecily pushed the paint-ridden door open, and Myra and I followed her in.
The heat hit first, thick and dry, laced with the scent of cinnamon, ginger, and firewood. The ceiling hung low over our heads, its beams crooked, while the walls were cluttered with old photographs and curling maps.
To a village this size, the pub was filled with both men and women. They glanced at us, then returned to their drinks, paying us no mind. Cecily led us to the counter, and the sound of a violin grew, almost muting the crackling of the fire entirely. I was expecting to step into a place similar to the Drunken Lion Pub, but the atmosphere was utterly different here.
“Cosy, isn’t it?” Myra asked, right as the bartender—a woman with greying hair—looked up at us.
“What can I get ya’ girls?” she asked, wiping her hands onto her apron.
“Three hot toddies,” Cecily grinned, pulling a small, silky bag from her coat. I reached into my pocket searching for any stray pennies, when Myra stopped me.
“Cecily will get it,” she smiled. “We invited you.”
My throat dried. “Oh. Thanks,” I said as the woman waved us to sit while she prepared our orders.
The twins chose a table in the back, but even there, the seats were all taken.
“Another one of my sheep disappeared,” someone said, and I glanced from the corner of my eye to see two women sitting at a desk behind us. “I tell ya’, it’s the Great Monster. It’s back.”
My brows rose. I glared at the twins but they were giggling about something, paying no attention to what the woman was saying.
“That’s just an ol’ tale, Edith, to scare children,” the other whispered.
