She laid now upon a sun-soaked, green hilltop covered in wildflowers and bees, and she recognized it at once. The hill behind her childhood home. She’d returned to Eirian, when she never thought she could. The sky was an impossible blue, wisps of clouds and a warm yellow sun to her right. She felt it on the side of her face and smiled. She spread her arms and was met with something shifting. She turned her head to look. It was thedoll, the one she’d imagined so long ago, and it nestled in the crook of her arm. An arm that was child sized. Alora lifted her fingers to the sky, marveling at them.
She’d returned to her childhood.
Carefully, she picked up the doll around its waist and held it above her too. The features were everything she’d wanted. Yellow hair and silver eyes. Red lips. The doll wore a blue dress and little brown shoes, and her hair was braided and tied with ribbon. Pride enveloped her. Pride and amazement and all of it in herself. She’d done something extraordinary. She had an ability greater than anything she could have thought possible. A giggle escaped her, and she hugged the doll to her chest until she thought she might burst. She’d keep the toy forever and use her enchantment freely. Anything anyone wanted, she’d give them. It would be simple and wonderful, and all would love her for it. A butterfly landed on her arm, and she smiled in utter contentment before her eyes closed.
Alora blinked open her eyes to water and twin orbs like the moon. The mermaid studied her still, but there was no drawing sensation as before. Instead, the creature lifted its arms. The mermaid gripped the mask on either side, pulling at it with such force, Alora thought for sure it’d give way. But it didn’t. It held, and one by one the mermaid’s fingers released until its arms hung, almost limply, at its side.
She knew what the creature wanted. Of course she did. And she could imagine it easily, the muzzle falling to the pool’s bottom. But even if she waited until Lennox was gone and herself safe at the pool’s edge, what would happen to the next person who stepped in?
An instant meal, she was sure.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t condemn someone innocent just to assuage the feeling coursing through her now. She shookher head at the mermaid, hoping her eyes conveyed what she yearned to say.
I’m sorry. Not yet.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The deluge threatened to begin. Alora pulled the hood of her Opulence cloak lower on her head, the invisibility coat draped over her arm, as she rushed for the gate. She couldn’t waste time on umbrellas.
Madam Feebledire had been shocked to see her still within the grounds, which Alora had smoothed by saying she’d been kept busy with more measurements. A horse and wagon would arrive at the carpenter’s tomorrow morning. That rule, at least, she’d followed.
She rang the bell, bouncing on her toes as she waited for the gate to swing in. When it did, she hurried out into an abrupt downpour without bothering to say goodbye to the ill-tempered guard, though she did glance at him, and noted his paint ran in rivulets down his face. It reminded her of Reginald, and sorrow filled her.
Thunder cracked and lightning zipped across the sky in an aggressive display that mimicked her feelings. She couldn’t seefar ahead due to the rain, and it left her with a sense of isolation she couldn’t shake. She didn’t know what to do.
Her thoughts tumbled over one another so relentlessly, she felt like she’d been tossed into the ocean, but near the shore. One with cliffs and very large rocks. She couldn’t escape them. Briefly, she contemplated setting the entire mansion on fire. But how many would be lost to the blaze? The mermaid for certain, and who knew how well all that stone would burn anyway. The frame would likely only end up scorched and be rebuilt, the arson traced to her.
She’d grown up hearing stories about the spectacular enchantments of Opulence Mansion; she could have never imagined it to be so corrupt. For its contracts to be akin to shackles, and its dealings built on a foundation of greed. And it had managed to leech into Enver. Beautiful Enver, which she loved so much. Kind Ellie Turkens and strong Ms. Merryweather. Eager Mr. Whitters and Hector Zanfold, her curmudgeonly neighbor. None of them deserved to live in the gilded, poisoned shadow which Merridon created. He needed to be stopped and held accountable. Him and every Urchin he employed.
But how?
How could one person topple such a scheme? Especially one anchored in gold?
Her cowl drooped, muddling her vision. She entered the cobbled streets of Enver and ripped it off, shoving the blasted thing in her satchel. She didn’t care if it wrinkled or mildewed. She was so upset, she could have stomped it into the puddled road, damn anyone who witnessed her.
Lennox had thought to make her day better, and Alora hoped, at least for her friend’s sake, that it had worked for her. But it had done the opposite for Alora. That childhood memory was one of the purest she had, when her heart was full of pride andpossibilities. It had ended tragically for her. For her and the blacksmith’s daughter, and even for the rabbit.
Her enchantment did not, in fact, make anyone love her.
Mugwort Alley was the shortest route home, and she took it. The dark sky and endless rain made the lane of gray and black buildings even more dreadful in appearance, but for once, she didn’t scoff at how the town could allow it. Instead, she thought of how it matched her mood. Maybe she should move here. Give up her flowers and terrace and become a witch who resided in the muck, growing mushrooms to sicken those who stared at her too long.
Lightning lit the sky, brighter than any she’d seen yet, and she halted at once in the middle of the street. The subsequent thunder rattled windows all around, but she didn’t pay it any attention. She’d become distracted. Unashamedly so. Relievedly so. It gave her…ideas.
Bash lowered a bag filled to the brim with who knew what onto the soaked porch of Potions and Peculiarities, a hand deep in his pocket. She’d not seen him since the evening she’d woken on his back stoop, when he’d offered her all sorts of unsolicited advice before, bafflingly, requesting to see her home. He hadn’t noticed her yet. Or maybe he had and pretended not to.
What brings him out into the storm?He must have been caught in the rain at least as long as her, considering his hair was curled and clinging to his forehead, and his shirt was soaked through and practically adhered to his skin. She could see every dip and swell of him. He rolled up his shirtsleeves upon swinging the door in, revealing quite nice forearms.
Goodness.
Bash bent to retrieve the bag he’d discarded. She was near enough to notice rain dripped from his nose and from his chin. She watched it run down his cheekbone and was jealous. It was all the push she needed. Alora started toward him.
“Excuse me, sir! I’d like to purchase a Dirededron. Do you have one lurking about?”
“Miss Pennigrim?” Bash straightened, the bag slung once more over his shoulder. “What are you doing out here?”
“Same as usual. Weathering another storm.” She’d meant to make her tone mysterious, or at least brave. But it came out as neither, and her voice broke at the end.
“What’s happened?”
