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“You demon-children!” Mama shouted, but she was laughing. She took a book from Papa’s cart and threw it at us.

“Not the books!” Papa said, snatching for it, but it was already out of his reach. I easily caught the tome—a history of the Oryon religion—and placed it back on the cart.

Mama grabbed me, wrapping me in a hug. “Nedra,” she whispered. “My Nedra.” She squeezed me tightly. “But what are you doing back now?”

Joy slipped from my face. “The plague—” I started.

Mama smoothed my hair and pulled me back into her hug.

“We worried about that,” Papa said. “Here and in the city, if reports from Hart are to be believed.”

“They are,” I said.

Mama squeezed tighter. “And to think,” she said, pulling back. “I was worried I wouldn’t recognize you when you came back from the city.”

“Technically, you didn’t,” I pointed out.

“Inside!” Mama announced. “Food!”

After we helped Papa put Jojo into her stable, we gathered in the kitchen and Mama started cracking eggs into a hot pan. Ernesta had drilled me yesterday about the city, and I had to repeat almost all of it, describing everything from the food to the clothing to the people.

“And I met the governor,” I said.

“You didn’t!” Mama gasped.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Ernesta grumbled.

“She’sreallynice,” I said. “She came to the hospital to visit the sick.”

“She’s not bothered coming north,” Papa muttered.

In the flurry of catching up and eating breakfast, we’d not noticed how little Papa had spoken.

“Papa?” Ernesta asked.

He held his head up with one hand, and he tilted his face toward her without really looking up. “Sorry, little flower,” he said. “I’m just tired. Long day on the road to get here by morning.” He leaned back in his chair. “And it was worth it for the surprise when I got home,” he said, beaming at me.

I grinned at Papa. His eyes were red-rimmed, and the alchemist in me started analyzing him. Sallow skin, hunched shoulders, slightly glazed eyes.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.

“I pushed Jojo too hard,” Papa said. “Two more villages were closed,” he added, looking up at Mama.

Ernesta and I exchanged a worried look.

Papa pushed his chair from the table. “Sorry, loves,” he said. “I think I need to take a nap.”

He leaned down to hug me in my chair, but all I could think about was how hot his skin was against mine.

THIRTY-NINE

Nedra

“You’re being paranoid,”Ernesta said as we walked into town together.

“He took a nap,” I pointed out. “Papanevernaps.”

Ernesta paused to peer into the window of the general store. “He was tired. He’d just come back from a long trip.” She turned to me. “He’s doing that more. Going farther and farther out to sell books. Past Hart, even.”