Page 25

The Hollow devours the complacent.

Soaked through and nearly frozen, I wrenched open the back gate and ran to the cottage. Bursting in, I opened my mouth to explain.

A room of people greeted me.

Ruven and three of his copper-haired brothers were gathered around the table, a map unrolled across it.

Lottie, sporting an eye patch, sat at the table with a knife pointing at the map.

Leaning in the doorway, with deep lines creasing her forehead, was my mother.

Since she’d joined the guard, she’d only removed her uniform to sleep.

Now, in my father’s green night coat, she looked older than ever.

The sofa, the last spot I’d seen Lysander, was empty. Was I too late?

Was he gone?

“Where’s Lys?” My voice cracked.

Mother shook away her surprise and uttered, “Bedroom.” Throughout the den, brows cocked and arms crossed as the tone shifted from relief…to suspicion.

Pointing the blade at me, Lottie said, “Catch another rabbit?”

“No.” I raised my hands, as if I were protecting myself from another pack of wolves. “I can explain.”

In an escalating tone, my mother said, “Liliwen Alouette Valet.”

Punishments had always fallen under my mother’s jurisdiction, and an old fear rocked my belly. “I…” Scrutinized by so many witnesses, my tongue was suddenly dry. “Well, I—”

“Speak quickly!” Mother demanded, sending a tremor through me. “Everyone here was prepared to die to find you. You better have a sound excuse—”

“I went to kill the Hound!”

Everyone in the room gasped. Except for Lottie, who’s good eye looked at me like I was the dumbest creature in all the Hollow.

Honestly, she might be right.

“There were wolves!” The words spilled out. “A man saved me, but he was injured.” The mention of a man perked Ruven’s shoulders, and his eyes narrowed. “I stayed with him to see he was healed before I left.”

My mother tilted her head.

Lottie twirled the knife, the tip of which dug into my grandfather’s table.

“Yes, it was careless!” I cried. “But I thought if I brought back the Hound’s heart, we could use the money, or the attention of the queen’s physician to help Lysander!”

With the same tone one might use to address a toddler, Lottie sneered, “Why would you go alone ?”

“Because I can’t lose anyone else!” I screamed.

Ruven rubbed his neck as his brothers shifted uncomfortably around him.

They exchanged a word. His brothers removed their assortment of weapons—rusty and worn, the weapons of farmers—and excused themselves.

Lysander appeared in the hall, no doubt awakened by my shouting.

He was a ghost, but he managed a weak smile.

To Lysander, my mother said, “Back to bed. She’s home.” Mother gave me a warning glare, and ushered Lysander to his room.

That left Ruven, Lottie, and me. Lottie looked at Ruven, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me since I’d entered. She gagged as if she meant to be sick, and said, “I’m going to shoot something.” She left, knocking me roughly with her shoulder on her way out.

Ruven sheathed his sword, which was much newer and sharper than the tools his brothers had come with.

Crossing the room, Ruven took my hands. “Liliwen, I… When you didn’t meet me…

” He cleared his throat and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He embraced me, letting his chin rest in my hair.

“I—I thought we’d be bringing back your body, or”—he choked—“what was left of it.” Water dripped down my face, and I realized Ruven was crying.

“Hey, it’s okay.” I pulled away so I could see him.

Ruven leaned down and kissed me.

With two hands, I shoved him. “What are you doing?!” I wiped my cheek, removing his tears from my face.

Ruven sputtered, “I’m sorry!” as horror consumed his tear-stained face. “I shouldn’t—I wasn’t thinking!” He inched closer. “I was just so relieved to have you back!”

The back door opened, and Lottie entered. She grabbed something from the mantle, and said, “Forgot my grips.” Catching sight of my hunched shoulders, and Ruven’s cherry-red face, Lottie squinted. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Ruven stuttered. “Just making sure Lili is okay, that’s all.”

After a good look at me, Lottie crossed her arms. “You’ve checked on her. Now go.”

“Lottie,” I said, “it’s okay.” Lottie scowled at us both and shut the door. Out of the corner of my eye, her head appeared in the rear window.

“Ruven, I can’t do this.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “My family needs me.”

“If not now, when?” Ruven snapped. “How long will you keep me in your pocket?”

My mouth fell open. The words stung; they shocked any response from my mind. “Ruven—”

Knock-knock-knock , came the rapping of knuckles on glass. Lottie glared through the panes. She pointed at Ruven, then the front door. Her lips formed a very clear message, ‘Get out!’

It was no secret that Ruven never liked Lottie.

I mean, no one did. Not really . Ruven had always tolerated her with a smile, but now, his nostrils flared into a sneer, so unlike anything I’d ever seen on his bright, happy face.

In a blink, the rage was hidden. Ruven offered a tight-lipped smile and, without saying goodbye, left.

Lottie shook her head and disappeared from the window.

I stared at the door Ruven had vanished through.

Over the last few days, my intuition had kept me alive.

The goosebumps, the little voice, everything homed in on danger, on things that might hurt me.

When Ruven glared at Lottie, his fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword, and his knuckles turned whiter than bleached bone.

I couldn’t help but wonder, what was Ruven doing to my sister in his mind?

In that brief exchange, I felt as unsafe as if I were in the Hollow.

Shaken in more ways than one, I joined Lottie out back. Sitting amongst the wisteria, I watched arrow after arrow pierce the target set against the short stone wall. When Lottie paused to collect arrows, I asked, “How is Lysander, really?”

“Bad,” Lottie sniped. “Worse off from all the worrying you’ve caused us.” I knew better than to rise to Lottie’s attacks. When I said nothing, Lottie scoffed and resumed shooting. Crunching footfalls alerted us, and we both tensed.

Marek peered around the cottage. He cried, “Liliwen!” and joined us.

“The Leroux boys told me you’d returned; I wanted to be sure of it myself!

” I stood and Marek embraced me. Lottie shot me a curious glance; I returned it with equal confusion.

Marek pulled away, but his hand remained on my arm.

“You know, I’ve always felt the need to protect you.

Ever since your father died, you’ve felt like a daughter to me.

” I smiled, though something inside me drew away, as if I’d nearly stepped on a snake coiled in the underbrush.

I stepped away. “Glad to be back.”

Marek stroked his silvery beard. “Ruven mentioned someone helped you.”

With slight hesitation, I replied, “Yes.”

Marek made an encouraging gesture, requesting more information.

“Who?” Though appearing relaxed, there was an eagerness in the way Marek watched me.

Perhaps the Hollow had skewed my intuition, the unfortunate result of knowing there were monsters around every corner, and that if I didn’t keep my wits about me, I’d be eaten.

That suspicion was bleeding into my safe spaces—analyzing everyone’s tone and motive.

First the exchange with Ruven, and now Marek. Not everyone was out to harm us.

Still, Marek’s questions left me…wary.

“Just…someone in the woods.”

“A wild man, living in the Hollow, helped you?” Marek scoffed.

“Yes.”

Marek laughed and glanced at Lottie, as if to say, ‘Can you believe this?’ Smirking, Marek asked, “And what did this wild man look like? Did he have large feet and hair covering his body?” He chuckled. “Or was he, perhaps, invisible?”

Lottie threw down her bow. “Why are you questioning my sister?”

Marek, unused to questions, balked.

Crossing her arms, Lottie snapped, “Say what you mean to say or leave!” Marek, looking like he’d just received a slap, straightened. Lottie was resolute in her stare down, and Marek reassessed the situation.

In a strange turn of events, it was Marek who raised his palms in apology. “I’m sorry. I’m simply trying to locate anyone who might have more information on the Hound. You must admit, the notion that anyone might call the Hollow home is…unlikely.”

“What does it matter?” Lottie said, possessing all the arrogance of her age. “We almost had him last time.”

“Well…” Marek crossed his arms and stroked his beard. “You nearly died.”

“What?” I rounded on Lottie.

Excited mania entered Lottie’s un-eyepatched eye. “The Hound took a swing at me.” She raised her hand, where a finger was missing.

“Lottie!” I clutched her hand and examined the nub.

Lottie wormed away and wiggled her remaining fingers. “Didn’t get the good ones though.” She snatched her bow and shot an arrow. It struck the red-ringed centre of the target, for emphasis.

Staring at the arrow, I murmured, “He nearly killed you.”

What if I’d come home, only to find Lottie and Lysander dead?

Sickness swelled in my throat, at the thought of their mangled bodies, at the thought of burying them and knowing I’d have to return to a house that was, once again, emptier than when I’d left it.

I braced myself on the cottage for support.

“Don’t worry,” Lottie said and smiled wickedly. She pointed her bow at me, stabbing the air. “I slit him good.”