Not fear—pure joy that tears through the garden like a battle cry.
She scrambles to her feet, the sketchbook tumbling to the grass, and starts running toward me. I take the stone steps two at a time, my legs shaking, my vision blurring.
We crash together at the bottom.
I squeeze her so tight I might break her, spinning her around until we both stumble. She’s taller than when I left, but still so small in my arms.
You’re alive. You’re alive.
You’re not safe at home in Atrea, but you’re alive.
Here, with me.
“Robin, Robin, Robin,” she gasps against my shoulder, her voice so unmistakably hers that tears spring into my eyes.
My knees give out. We sink to the grass together, and I can’t let go, can’t stop touching her face, her hair, making sure she’s real.
“How—” My voice breaks. “How are you here?”
“Well, I set fire to a bed,” she says brightly, as if that explains it.
I haven’t kissed her since she was a child, but I kiss her then, on the top of her head.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I tuck her wild, unkempt hair behind her ear. “How have you been?Wherehave you been?”
She glances away from me. “I stayed under the floorboards. I really did, I promise. But they… they set fire to it, Robin.”
“Set fire to what?”
“Our… our home. All of it. Everything.”
My stomach drops. Our little house with the crooked windowsill where she used to perch and draw. The kitchen where I taught her to make bread. Gone.
Esme recounts the whole sorry tale, explaining that she had to choose between burning to death or coming out from her hiding place. When she eventually stumbled out of our smoke-filled hut, she was immediately put in chains. Her voice stays steady, matter-of-fact, but I see the tremor in her hands.
I cup her face, looking deeply into her eyes. “Has anyone harmed you? In any way?”
The question scrapes my throat raw, but I have to know. Because if they have, I’ll kill them. Even if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.
She shakes her head quickly. “No, Robin. I’m okay.”
The exhale that leaves me drains all the air from my lungs, relief flooding through me so hard I nearly collapse.
“I’ve been living with this complete bitch called Madeleine. Me and a bunch of other girls. Most of them younger than me. She rents us out for jobs. I’ve never done so much cleaning!”
I laugh despite everything, thinking about the state our small home would fall into. Neither of us were particularly great at keeping it tidy.
“I pissed her off tons of times, but the old woman knew if she hurt me too badly, I wouldn’t be able to work.”
“So… shedidhurt you?”
Esme shrugs. “Pushed me down the stairs once.”
“Esme!”
“I spat in her food that evening.”
A small noise from behind us—it’s Maria, at the top of the staircase.
