Page 21 of The Thirteenth Count

Every sound outside that made its way in caused her parents to freeze. A loud voice? Her father was on the edge of his seat. A cart clacking down the cobbles? Her mother’s eyes would go wider than an owl’s.

Enough is enough.

Fern slammed her palm onto the table, causing her parents to jump. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

“Some things…” her father began, his voice soft. “Some things are beyond our control now.”

“Yes, father. I got that from your sermon. Perhaps you could elaborate.”

Her mother stiffly got up to clean what was already spotless.

“Well,” he rubbed the back of his head, “High Blackwell will want to assess your… situation.”

The angrier Fern was, the more agitated Sprout became. He scratched at his post and puffed up his chest, hissing at the air.

“As he does with everyone who receives an elevation,” Fern seethed, but her anger died when her father’s face fell.

Her father was quiet, and he wouldn’t quite look her in the eye.

“Right,” he said, but his voice suggested it wasn’t right at all. “You’ll be safe. That’s what matters.”

The words cut the space between them, jagged with what neither dared voice. Then, as if summoned by their conversation, came the sound they’d all been dreading.

Three sharp, authoritative knocks at the door.

Her father’s shoulders slumped as he moved toward the door.

Fern stood, waiting in the sitting room. A dish her mother had been cleaning clattered in the basin, and she quickly moved to stand behind Fern, hands protectively on her shoulders.

When her father opened the door, a well-dressed Stemblood with slicked back brown hair and black, hawk-like eyes, held out his hand that wasn’t holding wax-sealed documents.

“I’m Keeper Corvus.” Her father hesitated before shaking the man’s hand. “And you are…?”

“My name is Sturgis.” Fern didn’t miss the man wiping his hand on his fine jacket. “I’m High Blackwell’s representative in all matters of elevated bloodlines. May I come in?”

Her father stepped aside and directed him toward the sitting room. Sturgis took her father’s chair while her parents took the loveseat. Fern chose to stand.

Sturgis cleared his throat. “It seems we have much to discuss and little time, so I’ll cut right to the chase.” He glanced at her before returning focus to her parents. “Ms. Grovekeeper is to come to Blackwell Keep immediately.”

“The Keep?” Her mother gasped. “But she’s to go to the second tier with the other Stembloods!”

“Mrs. Grovekeeper, surely you are not ignorant of your daughter’s circumstances, are you?”

Her father’s voice rose. “If she is sent to the Keep, we will never see her again!”

Never see them again? That’s why they’ve been so terrified—they knew this wasn’t just a typical elevation.

“Keeper Corvus,” Sturgis said quietly, “I suggest you watch your tone. This is for her protection—and education.”

“Don’t I get a say?” Fern asked. She didn’t sound nearly as confident as she wanted to.

Sturgis stared at her blankly. “No.”

Fern crossed her arms and glared at the man. Bastard.

“This is outrageous!” Her mother shrieked. “You cannot take her. I will not allow it!”

The look on Sturgis’ face turned deadly, sending a shiver down Fern’s spine. “Might I remind you what happens to families who defy the High’s directives? Imprisonment. Loss of position. Or worse. As a household of faith, you should be well aware of the consequences.” He turned to Fern. “Fifteen minutes, Ms. Grovekeeper. There is little time to waste.”