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“Stop,” Sahlma begged. “Please stop.”
Tears were running down my face as Kestrel’s story flew past my eyes. “Stars. Oh, merciful Empyrea. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” I closed my eyes. “You buried him in the forest,” I said shakily. “You planted a sapling on the spot. And then you went back to the man who took your little boy from you and you hit him on the back of the head with a rock while he was sleeping. You were about to hit him again when you saw the patch of bloodleaf under the bridge . . . and then you dragged him to it, dumped him on it, and then you slit his throat and pushed his body into the river below. Then you went back with the petals . . . you dug up the tree . . . you tried . . .” I looked up at her through bleary eyes, unable to finish.
Sahlma pressed both hands to her face and sobbed.
Kestrel waited calmly while I collected myself. “Your son . . . he wants you to know that he doesn’t blame you, even though you blame yourself. He loves you. He doesn’t want you to be sad anymore.”
The boy nodded and withdrew his hand. My arm fell to my side. I couldn’t move it. I clutched it with my other hand and staggered to my feet.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll go.”
“Wait,” she said. “I did collect bloodleaf petals that day. Two of them. One I used . . . you saw how. The second, I sold to buy my education as a healer. I wanted to help people like me . . . but time and circumstance has a way of beating the idealism out of a person.” She wiped at her puffy face with the back of her age-spotted hand. “I’ll help you, if I can. Show me the way.”
* * *
It was dark when Sahlma and I rushed across the cottage threshold. We could hear Kate’s wrenching cries before we even reached the walk. We found her kneeling at the side of her bed, bent over in excruciating pain.
Sahlma got right to work, rolling up her sleeves. “Water. Now.”
I hastily filled a basin and rushed in with it, water slopping over the sides as I set it next to the bed. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” Kate asked.
“You’re going to be fine,” I said reassuringly before shooting a worried look at Sahlma, who said nothing.
Kate was racked with another hard contraction, tendons standing out against her skin as she struggled through it. The bloodstain on the gauze pressed against the cut on her neck began to spread further across the white plane. The wound still had not clotted.
“It won’t be long now,” Sahlma said, furrows deepening above her brows.
Kate labored through the waning hours of the night, growing ever weaker.
Near morning Kate gave one final, shuddering push, and the child was born. A little girl.
“Look, Kate!” I said. “You were right. A girl.”
“She’s alive,” Sahlma said, looking wan and sad. “But she’s small, and not breathing well.”
Tears shone in Kate’s eyes. “Can I hold her?”
Sahlma wrapped the baby up and passed her to me. I paused to pull the fabric away from her face. It was round and perfect, with sweet, tawny cheeks and a little bit of dark, curly hair crowning her head. Her eyelids flickered open and she began mewling weakly. Her eyes, I could tell, would be deep brown. Just like her father’s.
Kate took her in shaking arms. “We did it, my girl. We did it.”
I stumbled, numb, into the kitchen, while Sahlma did her best to stanch Kate’s bleeding. I made myself as busy as possible, straightening what was already straightened, cleaning what was already clean. Kate’s half-finished work was everywhere: a pie, ready to be baked. A bundle of fresh firewood in the hearth, ready to be set alight. A basket full of half-made baby clothes next to the chair. I lifted the first dress and stared at it, dazed, wishing I could finish it for her but knowing I’d never do it justice. When I went to lay it back in the basket, I felt a sharp sting on the tip of my forefinger.
Bleeding stars, I thought. I’d pricked myself.
It wasn’t much, just a tiny drop of blood, no bigger than the head of the pin that caused it. But it was the last straw. The numbness with which I’d been holding myself together was gone. Kneeling over Kate’s sewing basket, I cracked.
Zan, Nathaniel, I cried out in my thoughts as the blood drop fell, come back. Kate needs you. I need you. Come back.
* * *
Sahlma’s efforts had been in vain, I could see that. Kate was still bleeding. If the Empyrea had been merciful, Kate would have been allowed the kindness of unconsciousness—?but her eyes were clear and full of sharp anguish as she lay holding her child’s tiny, failing body under her chin. She was stroking the back of her baby’s delicate hand, singing a broken lullaby.
“Kate.” My tears were flowing freely now.
She turned her sorrowful face to me and said, “How can I bear it? How?”
“I don’t know.” And I backed out of the room, letting her be alone with her little girl for whatever time they had left together.
