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“Who is she?”

“She has the cold-sickness. Take her to the doctor.”

“No.” Fern’s voice was barely more than a croak when she spoke.

Her throat hurt, and every part of her body was pounding with the hammering of a loud, insistent pain.She pushed away the hands that sought to prop her up, shaking her head.Don’t touch me.I’m fine. Get away. She tried to speak, but words failed her.

Voices rang out around her.

“Where has she come from?”

“Somebody threw her to the sea.”

“She comes from the storm.”

“Is she a selkie, Aunt Addie?”

“Hush, you stupid child.”

The old lady leaned over Fern, taking her face in one hand. Her bony fingers dug into Fern’s clammy skin as she forced Fern to look at her. Recognition was a weak spark deep within Fern’s consciousness.

Addie spoke, low and sharp. “Welcome back, girl. Seems the gods have handed you a boon, so listen to me. No doctor will venture to the place you’ve come from. Now I suggest you be quiet and let our good Dr Moad see to you before you follow in the footsteps of the unfortunate souls who precede you.”

Fern nodded. Another body had washed up before hers, had it not? The dim sparks of her thoughts flared in her mind, failing to kindle into a flame. Arms slid around her, and she was suddenly lifted. Her skin was numb with cold, her brain was a vast blank.

The voices continued around her as she was carried from the seastrand and down wooden jetties. She could smell brine and woodsmoke and fresh bread. For a confusing moment, she wondered if she was back in New Copenhagen. She tried to call for Oscar, but no noise emerged from her lips except a hoarse whimper.

But she opened her eyes, and instead of bright facades and gilded signs, the buildings surrounding her weredark and salt-encrusted. She was carried down a narrow alleyway and through a door, and finally laid down upon the brown leather cushions of an examination couch.

Fern blinked. It was warm in this room, but the cold from the ocean seemed to live inside her bones now. She shook violently, her teeth chattering.

She tried to speak, but her throat was too constricted.

A woman stood in front of her. Her black hair was gathered back, and she wore a white coat buttoned at the neck and shoulder. A smattering of dark beauty spots constellated her brown skin, and her thick eyebrows were drawn into a frown.

“Where on earth did she come from?” she was asking.

Addie’s voice responded. “Carthane, somehow.”

“Are you sure?” the doctor asked, glancing over her shoulder at the old lady. “Nobody ever comes back from there.”

“I’m sure,” said Addie. And, “God must favour this one—she’s made it out.”

“Hm.” The doctor sounded tense. “Well, first things first. We need to get her out of those clothes. Addie, do you have anything we might put her in?”

“I’ll fetch some of Erik’s old clothes.”

Addie left, and silence reigned in the room. Fern could hear the crackling of a nearby fire and the faint hiss of gas lamps. She blinked her eyes open to find the doctor sitting on a stool nearby, scribbling notes. She glanced up, meeting Fern’s gaze.

“Hello.”

“Hello,” Fern said.

Her voice sounded as though she hadn’t used it in years. She tried to sit up, but the doctor stood to press a hand to her shoulder.

“Don’t move. I’m Dr Moad. Can you answer some questions?”

Fern nodded.