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It felt like this had gone on for a while when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Saga?” It was Esteri.

“A few more minutes,” she pleaded. “Until he stops.”

The tulikettu’s voice was gentle. “I don’t think he knows you’re here anymore, nappula.”

“But I do.”

Esteri sat down next to Saga. “Do you know ‘Täällä pohjantähden alla’?”

Saga shook her head and she felt Esteri’s hand rub her back.

“It is a song in Finland they often sing for loved ones lost. ‘Here, Under the North Star I come, I go…’”

“Would you sing it?”

Esteri’s voice was the only sound for what felt like miles, embraced by the blanket of snow around them. It was soft but beautiful, and Saga allowed herself to simply weep, holding her father while her friend held her.

Saga didn’t understand the words, so she wasn’t certain, but part of her wondered if, just to give her more time, Esteri might have sung it twice.

The numbness she felt couldn’t have been from the cold, so Saga assumed it was exhaustion from her tears. She was quiet when they returned, wordlessly thanking the council for the opportunity.

Avery reached for her, but she held up a hand, stepping out into the hallway. “I just need a minute.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed. It rang once. If it was going to be answered at all, it always rang only once.

“I have been trying to reach you for weeks.”

“Hi, Mum. It’s really good to hear your voice.”

Chapter 44 Avery

The past weeks had been an unintentional study in spite. Horrendous acts committed in the name of revenge. Malice and other curious psychological maladies that enticed one to act even against their own character in order to commit violence.

She’d meditated on these concepts while reflecting on Saga’s choice to save the lives of the Winter Council, whose system had left a scar on her entire family. The thoughts had circled in her mind as she devoured the books she’d borrowed from the library and as she set down the last book—A History of London by Stephen Inwood—she realized it had been nineteen days since she’d checked them out. Her initial plan of turning in the books exactly one day later than she was meant to, which had admittedly been made in spite, lost its shine at this.

Especially when one considered the far superior thrill one might have in turning the books in early, thus not only delivering prior to the contract’s end, but even more importantly—proving smug Susan she had been entirely incorrect.

It was such a delicious thought, Avery allowed herself to daydream briefly on it.

“Bringing them back already?” She imagined Susan saying in a far more sinister tone than Susan had ever uttered. “I suppose then I was right.”

“Yes, Susan,” Avery would reply with false contrition. “I did not read all fifty in twenty-one days. I did it in nineteen!”

Gleefully, she imagined the librarian’s face souring in defeat. But the difficulty with a mind talented with picturing scenarios is that daydreams had a nasty habit of melting into something far more logical and likely to happen.

“Don’t have a lot of friends, do you dear?”

“Shut up, Susan,” Avery grumbled to her imagination and dug her phone out of her pocket.

Four numbers were listed in her contacts now. But each was important in its own right, and this time she did not attempt to substitute one for any of the others. She tapped Saga’s contact and listened to the ring, both through her receiver and to the quiet musical ringtone she could hear through her floorboards.

“You’re calling.” Saga’s voice was bright as she answered.

“I am.” Avery would dare say she was proud of herself for doing so, considering it had taken her over a month to accomplish it.

There was a pause. “Are you in danger?”

Avery frowned. “I am not.”