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“Er, not exactly. A friend of Oskar’s, let’s say.”

“Right, right,” said the young man. He pointed past Amelie’s shoulder. “The wee fella is indeed quite ill. Oskar’s place is down Cherry Lane, cottage with the green door.”

“Thank you.”

She gave them a wave and hurried to Oskar’s dwelling, which was easy to find, thanks to the young man’s directions. The chattering of several voices came from within the cottage. Amelie was relieved, because that meant they were home, and her visit could be quick.

After knocking, she stood back and waited. The village, although well-kept, had a definite gloom that no amount of bright flowers could overcome. It was a similar effect that the curse had over Castle Grange.

The door flew open, and a little girl with blonde braids peered up at Amelie.

“Aye,” said the girl. “And who are you?”

“Sigrid! Mind your manners.” Oskar appeared behind the girl, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Oh, Amelie, now this is a surprise. Apologies for Sigrid.”

“Not at all. My apologies for arriving unannounced.” Amelie smiled at the girl, who reminded her vividly of a young Colette. Sigrid beamed in return.

“I won’t bother you,” continued Amelie. “I’ve brought some tinctures that might help your boy.”

“Have you now?” asked Oskar, looking both touched and bemused. “Well, isn’t that lovely? Please, come in.”

He stood back while Amelie entered the cottage. The interior was cozy and smelled of mint leaves and fresh bread. Another girl, dark-haired and older than Sigrid, sat at the wooden table, peeling potatoes with a pocket knife.

To Amelie’s mortification, she felt the sudden urge to cry. The sights and sounds of Oskar’s home reminded her so much of her cottage. Her siblings may well have been preparing vegetables for dinner right at that very moment. Amelie took solace in that she would be back there soon. She swallowed, blinking away the tears.

“This is Julie,” said Oskar, gesturing to the girl at the table. “She has ten years. Sigrid has seven.”

“Hello, Julie.”

The girl smiled in reply, showing dimples. Sigrid joined her sister and picked up a knife, resuming her task of peeling potatoes. A pot of water bubbled on the stove.

“Hugo’s in the bedroom,” said Oskar. “I understand if you prefer to stay out here, in case you catch his illness.”

“It’s fine. I’ll come through, if that’s alright?” She patted her satchel. “I have the medicines in here.”

He nodded and led her to the bedroom. The boy was tucked into bed, his face pale and clammy, rasping when he breathed. His eyes were unfocused and a damp cloth rested on his forehead.

“He’s worse today,” said Oskar, wringing his hands. “I’ve sent my eldest boy to ask the healer from the next village if she’ll help us. Whether or not she comes is another thing.”

Amelie withdrew the bottles and containers from her bag, placing them on the nightstand and scanning the labels.

“This one first,” she said, picking up a glass vial of pink liquid. “A tulsi and batwing tincture. For his temperature.”

She held the vial to the boy’s lips and slowly tipped it forward. He winced as the liquid hit his tongue, but hastily swallowed it. Amelie selected a tiny jar containing a waxy amber balm.

“This is an ointment for clearing heaviness from the spirit,” she explained to Oskar. Amelie wasn’t sure how it worked exactly, but the ingredients on the label were potent in isolation. Combined, she trusted they created a tonic of great efficacy. “Davron’s mother made it. May I?”

“Oh, aye. Queen Petra, rest her soul, was a brilliant woman. I’d be honored if you used her remedy.”

Amelie applied a dab of the balm to each of Hugo’s cheeks, as instructed by the label.

“I’ve used only a small amount,” she said. “I’m reluctant to overuse, as he is a child. You can monitor him and if he needs more, use more.” She stood up, indicating the nightstand. “I will leave all of the medicines here. Use them as you will.”

Oskar’s brow furrowed. “You’ll not stay for a while? I’ve made tea.”

Amelie hesitated. The poor man obviously wanted her to stay until his son showed improvement. Of course, she could not deny him. She, too, had wondered whether she shouldn’t stay longer, to ensure the remedies worked.

“Are you married?” she asked as she and Oskar returned to the kitchen.