Page 9

9

Criminal

Anya

T he village lockup was located on the southern end of town. Aside from the occasional drunkard needing to cool off, the small jail was rarely used, and therefore was quite dusty when Hammond deposited me there.

“What’s going to happen to me?” I’d asked as he locked the barred door, my face snotty and tear slicked.

“You’ll be sent to the capital to appeal your case,” he’d said, softly adding, “I’m so sorry, Anya,” before leaving me to my misery.

That had been a few hours ago.

Weak morning light now spilled through the narrow window on the back wall of my cell. The tiny building butted right up against the Wend, and through the slit, the river sighed the scent of decay on an icy breath, making me shiver. Its relentless trickle had been my lullaby throughout girlhood, a tune to frolic to as a teen, and in adulthood, its voice had become that of an old friend.

But now, it taunted me.

My body ached from a night spent on the cold stone floor. My head ached with the horrifying visions I’d seen in the Mirror of Death, replayed on a constant, disbelieving loop.

The capital. A trial. I’d heard of would-be criminals caravanned to the city to appeal to the Lord of Fenrir, but never in my wildest nightmares had I ever expected to take such a journey myself. The last time someone from Waldron had been implicated in a Mirror crime was before I was born. I’d only seen a criminal caravan once, at the juncture of the High Road and the path into Waldron. It’d been a grim sight: barred wagons filled to the brim with grimy bodies and frightened faces.

I was sure I fit the picture, now, filthy and terrified as I was.

How many of those prisoners had been innocent? At the time, I’d assumed they were all guilty, the Mirrors proving their nefarious future deeds. Now, I wondered how many of their Fates had, indeed, been malleable enough to change course. And of those who had followed through with the Mirrors’ predictions, had they always known their capacity for wrongdoing? Or had they imagined themselves incapable of their own crimes, only to find a deeper darkness in themselves later on?

Even considering the betrayal I felt when I saw the woman and child in Remy’s Mirror of Fortune, the mere thought of harming him made me feel sick to my stomach. I would never. Could never. There was not enough heartbreak in the world to make me violent .

But then there was the matter of my own Mirror of Death.

My new Fated end was now eerily similar to my Fortune. I’d always thought of the river as a natural friend, but it seemed the Wend was destined to become my grave, instead.

And Idris…why in the Fates would he find reason to drown me? An act of justice for Remy, perhaps? Idris hadn’t seemed like a Knight of the Order of the Lawful—they usually made their charge quite obvious—but if not that, then what?

I couldn’t reconcile his deed with the man I’d lightly flirted with last night. He’d seemed quiet, sure, but not nefarious. Perhaps I wasn’t as good a judge of character as I imagined myself, though. When he’d walked out the door of the Possum, I’d assumed it was for good—but now, his visit seemed more calculated.

Given my potential crime, maybe I deserved a watery end.

After all, Remy’s Fate was supposedly fixed. Was the malleability of my own future enough to change his, too? I squeezed my eyes shut. It was all too frightening to consider. Now more than ever, I needed to muster up my courage. Believe in myself. Prove my innocence.

I was still on the floor, clutching my knees to my chest, when hinges shrieked, announcing the arrival of a visitor.

When Hattie saw me, she sunk to her knees in the narrow hall outside my cell, gripping the iron bars with her delicate hands. She was still wearing her party dress, just like me, but hers was clean, whereas mine was wrecked with mud.

“Fates above, Anya, what have they done to you?” Hattie cried.

“Mercifully, nothing, except the discomfort of a night spent in a cell.” I exhaled a little laugh. “Suddenly I feel sorry for sending drunkards here on occasion. Though I can see how an excess of ale would make a night’s stay here far less uncomfortable.”

“How do you manage humor at a time like this?” Hattie asked, her blue eyes searching mine. “It’s criminal for them to lock you up when you’ve done nothing wrong!”

“The Mirrors don’t lie, Hattie,” I whispered, voice quavering as I spoke my fear aloud. “My Fate isn’t fixed, but the Mirrors still revealed the most likely path forward.” And somehow, my most likely future was murder—as both perpetrator and victim.

Perhaps Idris would be the hero in this story.

“Don’t talk like that. You aren’t thirty yet. You still have time to change your Fate,” Hattie insisted.

I clutched the labradorite necklace she’d given me, holding it against my chest. I couldn’t bring myself to point out that Remy was thirty-two, his Fate already fixed.

“I spoke to Hammond this morning,” Hattie continued. “He said he’d write down some suggestions for your trial.”

“That’s kind of him,” I said, crawling forward until I knelt across from her. “What of the rest of town? What do they think of me?”

“They’re concerned, of course! Nobody believes you’d actually—” she broke off, unwilling to say the words. “Hardly anyone even knows Remy, aside from in passing; not that we wish death upon him, but we’re all on your side, Anya, truly. His Fate might be fixed, but yours isn’t. We know you wouldn’t do such a thing unless provoked.”

“He wouldn’t provoke that ,” I said with certainty. Remy was mercurial, but never unkind or threatening.

Hattie nodded. “Hugh has been organizing character statements from everyone in town, for you to take with you. He’ll deliver them later.”

The thought of the town rallying behind me shook loose my resolve, and tears quickly filled my eyes.

“Oh, love,” Hattie said, grasping my hands through the bars. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you. I remember when I escaped Poe-on-Wend, how frightened I felt. I’m not sure this helps, but I found it steadying to simply focus on the next step, one at a time. Your next step is making it to the capital. Then your trial. Then, once you’re home, we can worry about preventing what you saw.”

“That’s a lot of steps.”

“You have two months before your birthday,” Hattie said encouragingly. “That’s plenty of time to sort this all out.”

I’d never heard her sound so decisive; normally, I was the self-assured one. The older sister. The reversal of our roles had the opposite effect Hattie intended. I sobbed even harder, her strength allowing me to be weak.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Hattie cooed, drawing me into an awkward hug, cold iron between us. “It’ll be all right.”

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, pulling back. “I’m determined to rectify this, Hattie, don’t you worry. It’s just… scary .” I laughed again, wiping at my eyes. “What an understatement.”

Her lips pursed.

“What?” I prompted.

“It’s just…” Her eyes lifted to the ceiling. “I don’t mean to upset you, but I’ve been thinking about it all night, and I’ll regret it if I don’t say something, so I’m just going to say it: did you notice anything… strange about Remy’s vision?”

My lip wobbled as I remembered his fortune. “You mean his child?”

Hattie shook her head. “In the vision with…you in it,” she said delicately. “Did you notice his hands?”

I had, vaguely. His fingernails had been long and grimy. But the clearest part in my memory was my own snarling face, streaked with dirt and blood as if we’d been rolling around on the forest floor.

“His hands were dirty,” I told Hattie. “So was I. Like we’d been…struggling.”

“Not just dirty,” Hattie said. “His nails were elongated and black. Like claws.”

“Hattie…” I began doubtfully.

“I’m telling you, Anya, they were grotesque. Almost…inhuman.”

I frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know, really,” she said. “There was something disturbing about them. They reminded me of Idris’s wound.”

“Don’t invent stories for my sake, Hattie.”

“I’m not,” she insisted. “I saw Idris’s hand up close. He’d made it sound like an old wound that’d festered, but there was no evidence of scabbing or rot. The puncture was new ; the infection had spread rapidly. And it was black , Anya. You saw it yourself, spiderwebbing up his wrist.”

“So?”

“He asked for Hylder ,” Hattie said, as if I should know what that meant.

I stared at her blankly.

“Hylder is a powerful botanical for healing, but also protection,” she elaborated. She glanced over her shoulder, then dropped her voice to a whisper, even though no one else was here. “Ancient apothecaries used to use it for purification from evil .”

Goosebumps rose on my arms. “I’m not sure I’m following, Hattie,” I said slowly.

“What if Remy becomes afflicted with the same ailment that plagued Idris? What if it makes him aggressive? There are plenty of diseases that change one’s personality.”

“I’m not interested in finding out,” I stated firmly. “I’ll go to the capital, get myself absolved of this hypothetical crime, and stay far away from Remy—and Idris.” I straightened my back, telling her what I needed to hear. “It’ll all be fine. I’ll fix it before my Fate is set, and everything will go back to normal.”

Hattie nodded, eyes welling. Then she reached for the rucksack she’d brought with her, which I hadn’t really noticed when she came in. Now, I realized it was the same pack she’d traveled with to Waldron-on-Wend eight years ago.

When she spoke again, her voice was breathy. “I brought you some provisions,” she said, wedging the bag and its weighty contents through the bars of my cell, the clatter of glass bottles plinking against the iron. “Extra clothes, a bit of food, and some medicinal items in case you get into trouble.”

I took the bag, hugging it to my chest.

“I’ll look after Wicker and the Possum,” she said. “Just…have faith in yourself and remember, your Fate is not yet fixed.”