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Witch.

I always wondered if you felt like our ancestor Nera then, as she was led to the pyre. She was only trying to help that count’s son, until the count tried to force her into his bed. How easily the tide can turn against our kind. We failed to heal Otac when we were together. Who am I to think I can heal Ana all on my own?

Helping Nikola is too risky. I should have told him no right then. But I was entranced by the money and, to be honest, moved by the desperation in his voice. Didn’t you teach me that it is our duty as healers to always help others? Doesn’t God want us to do good whenever we can? But then again, the Klarins are resourceful and powerful. They will find another way.

I will find Nikola later and tell him no.

Forgive me, Majko, but I could not do it.

Let me explain.

I had every intention of finding Nikola and turning down his request to help his mother. I had decided to do it after church. To be honest, I hadn’t gone in several weeks. It’s gotten worse since you passed, the others always whispering, glaring over their shoulders. But I wasn’t sure how else to find Nikola; I couldn’t very well walk up to Lavender House in case Marko was there. And so I thought I might catch him alone afterward. I wasn’t eager about the whole situation. What if he got upset at my answer? But now I’m glad I went.

I saw Ana before mass. Marko was speaking with the priest, as he always does, with his chest puffed out like a strutting rooster. As if he too shared in the secret confidence of God. Off to the side stood Nikola and Ana. He looked much better than the night before, dressed in his usual fine clothing, his hair neatly combed. Dobrila was speaking with them, wearing some silly hairpiece on her head. Whatever she was saying must not have been very interesting, because Nikola kept glancing toward the pews, as if he couldn’t wait to get away. I was too busy rolling my eyes to notice anything off about Ana at first, but, Majko, how she’s changed.

Gone was the rosy glow in her cheeks, her graceful posture—she always made me think of a swan with her long neck. But no more. Her frame was withered, her cheeks sallow, and pieces of her hair hung out of place like lank straw. More ghost than woman. Frankly, it frightened me. How a beautiful person could waste away so quickly, become a shell of their former self. I felt ashamed for not noticing before. But I suppose I do my best to stay out of Marko’s way.

The sight of her alone was almost enough to change my mind. She needed help, desperately. She could hardly walk; Nikola guided her the whole way, helping her into a pew. Marko, of course, kept chatting happily with the priest, oblivious to his wife’s hardship. The oaf. I wanted to slap him right then and there, but I banished the urge swiftly, remembering where I was. Church was certainly not the place for such thoughts.

Afterward, I lingered outside, waiting to see if I could catch Nikola. The people stared, of course. I must’ve stood out like a sore thumb all on my own beneath the olive tree, while they swarmed in their tight clusters, talking about all kinds of inconsequential things.

As I was waiting, I spotted Stipanka. She was chatting with several other middle-aged women. I had been so preoccupied with Nikola’s request that I had forgotten all about her ailing son. I searched for him, and sure enough, he was only a few meters away, laughing raucously as he chased after a small ball with some other children. As spry as a rabbit in a spring field. It gave me some pride to see my remedy had worked.

He kicked the ball and it rolled toward me. So I picked it up and held it out to him.

He was shy at first, but with a gentle smile, he edged closer and took the ball. He thanked me—the boy has better manners than his mother, apparently.

“I’m happy to see you are doing better,” I told him in reply. His little brow furrowed—I could see he was about to ask me a question, how I knew he’d been sick. But then the shadow of Stipanka loomed over him.

“Come,” she said sternly. She pulled him away, quickly, as if I were a snake about to strike. As if this wasn’t insult enough, I heard some tittering nearby. Like an annoying little bird. Dobrila had seen the encounter.

“Be careful, Ivo,” she called out. “Don’t you know she eats little children?” The other women around her laughed, delighting in my embarrassment. When Ivo looked back up at me, terror marred his innocent face.

Anger rose in me then, hot and quick as fire. If I had sharp teeth, it would not be children I hunted. No, it would be people like Dobrila, who spread lies, scorned me for no good reason. I clenched my fists, for in that moment my hands felt more like claws, yearning to strike, to tear flesh rather than mend it. But I thought of the words you once told me: Do not let the Devil in your heart. We are healers. We must always do good.

People were watching our exchange, many of whom I had helped in the past. Petar with his persistent cough. Zora and her joint pain. Miroslava with her indigestion. Fevers, colds, melancholy. Women who wanted help making children and preventing them. So many people we had healed, and yet none came to my defense. I wanted to scream. Reveal all their little secrets. Proclaim before God their hypocrisy.

But I did none of those things. Don’t stir trouble. As I stood there, the rest of my life unfurled before me, as clear as day: I would grow old and bitter. The home would fall into more and more ruin. I would waste away and be forgotten, like a withering flame, and nobody, nobody, would care. Because even though I held the power to heal them, the power of reputation mattered more.

My pitying thoughts were distracted by a person standing at the edge of the courtyard, away from the crowd. Nikola. In my anger, I had forgotten about him entirely. He stood as if he was waiting for someone—for me. My heart thumped hard at the realization. So, I was not entirely forgotten.

As our gazes locked, a jolt passed through me. I knew instantly that he had seen what happened with Stipanka and Dobrila. Shame curdled in my stomach, and yet his expression wasn’t one of scorn or even pity. It is hard to describe even now, though I see it clearly in my memory. His eyes . . . burned. As if the sea was on fire. As if he saw my pain and it burned within him too. It may have been only my imagination, but it made my skin hot all over, flushed like a fever.

It all became clear to me then, what I must do. It’s funny how such a simple, infuriating encounter could shift my perspective. Or perhaps this decision has been slowly building in me ever since your death, waiting for the right opportunity. Either way, I could see that I finally had a chance to raise my status, to change the way people saw me—and I was going to take it.

He strode alone into the church. A minute later, I followed.

I found him kneeling in a pew, praying. I knelt one row behind him.

“I will help Ana,” I whispered. “Though I cannot promise you anything.”

From behind, I could see the tension in his shoulders suddenly dissipate. “Come tomorrow night,” he said. “After the sun goes down.” Even though Marko would be away on business, I supposed Nikola was worried about gossip giving our plan away. This annoyed me slightly, but it’s probably for the best, in case word somehow reached his father.

“But if I am successful,” I told him, “then you must tell everyone who saved your mother.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes firm as they met mine. “Alright.”

Before I left, I said a prayer for myself, for I am sure I will need it. Whether it be fortune or folly, tomorrow evening I will go to Lavender House.