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“Not used to…” I swallow. Because I know exactly who I’m not used to. Children. I’m not used to children, and that fact makes me want to scream. Instead, I steel myself and cough out a “Never mind.”
“Did you have a funeral for your baby?”
Shame washes over me. “No. No, I didn’t know—I thought. Well, it was a stupid thing to think, but I didn’t know until—”
My teeth sinking into Clarissa’s flesh. Me compelling her to fear me.
Amity says nothing. She just hops up and scampers away, leaving me alone with my miserable thoughts.
Amity returns not long after, balancing a stone under each armpit. She pauses when she reaches me, her little arms shaking under the weight.
“Here,” she says finally, laying the stones down in the grass beside me.
In the moonlight, I catch sight of them up close, and my throat closes up.
The rocks are smooth on the surface and almost identical, like Amity’s spent the past half an hour scavenging around for the perfect pair. On each surface are scratched, in huge print with what was probably Amity’s hunting knife, the names Rose and Theo.
“I thought maybe we could give your baby a funeral.” For the first time since I met Amity, she sounds unsure of herself.
I nod, my lips unable to form words.
“And maybe Marcus could do it? I don’t think he’s ever done a funeral before, but I think he’d be really good at it.”
I shake my head, swallowing hard. Panic rises in me at the thought of the others seeing me like this. Of them offering me their pity, their condolences, all for me to turn around and betray them.
I fumble for a reason to give Amity, a reason why I can’t stand to let them bear any of my grief, but she simply says, “Or we could make it a more intimate gathering.”
Relief swells in my chest, and I even let out a small smile at her tendency to use words that seem so odd coming out of a child’s mouth.
“That would be perfect,” I whisper. “Actually, I was thinking I would pick you to say a few words.”
In the end, we lay the spirit of my child to rest in the soft earth, while the breeze sings my baby the lullaby I was never allowed. Amity says words I don’t hear in the moment, but somehow will never forget, then sprinkles rose petals over an empty grave.
CHAPTER 25
PIPER
“You want me to enchant your son back into loving you?” I ask, trying and failing to keep my tone calm.
Abra and I have just crossed into Dwellen, but we’ve been skirting the border for days now. At first, I thought maybe Abra was trying to evade the King of Dwellen’s forces.
But then we arrived at the warehouse.
It’s a dingy but massive building. One that looks like it would house illegal goods, what with the way the windows are boarded up and the way it looms over the hillside.
It is the type of building that houses illegal goods, by the way.
At least, I assume the bubbling vats of shining liquid scattered across the place are illegal.
I’m not sure what we’re here for exactly, but I definitely glimpsed Abra slip a vial into one of the vats and cork it before tucking it back into her robe.
I can’t get a read on her. One moment she’s intent on getting back to her son as quickly as possible, the next she’s taking detours that end up delaying us for days.
It’s almost as if Abra’s not the only one making decisions.
My hands are still bound, but I’ve been working on this rope for days now. I actually think I’m getting close to being able to slip my wrists through the widened gap I’ve wriggled.
I momentarily paused my escape attempt, though, when Abra casually dropped that, once we arrived in Mystral, I’d be enchanting her son to love her again.
