Page 20 of The House of Quiet

Chapter Fifteen

A Bird Conflicted

Nimbus isn’t breathing as fast as he was, but he’s still wide-eyed, fingers clenched so tightly Birdie’s worried he’ll hurt himself.

“I’m here; it’s okay.” Birdie hums softly, sitting shoulder to shoulder next to him on the bed. She wants to hold him like a child, but he never liked hugs before, and she doesn’t know if he wants to be touched now. She can’t know.

Was this what Magpie was like? Did anyone try to comforther?

There’s a soft knock on the half-open door. Birdie stands quickly, not wanting to get in trouble for being too familiar with a resident. “Yes? What do you need?”

Forest leans inside. He shakes his head. She’s not sure if he means he doesn’t need anything, or just communicating that she shouldn’t worry. There’s a gentle reassurance in his expression, though. He’s not asking her for anything. He’s here to help.

He steps inside, trailed by Dawn. Forest points to the girl, then points to Nimbus.

Of course! Birdie would never dare ask anything of someone of Dawn’s station, but Forest did.

Or, at least, he brought Dawn here so that Birdie could explain things.

She nods gratefully at him. Relief softens the sharp line of his shoulders.

He offers a small smile of such genuine hope and happiness it almost hurts her to see.

What has his life been like, that being able to do a little good is this important to him?

A deep confusion settles over her. She turns her attention to Dawn, the source of the feeling.

“Oh, Dawn.” Birdie rushes to her and puts an arm around her shoulders. Dawn, she’s noticed, very much likes physical contact. Her attempt at a braid is even worse today. Birdie swiftly undoes it and plaits it in a neat trail down Dawn’s back.

Dawn runs her fingers down it, beaming. “Thank you,” she says, the words a little rusty and shy like they haven’t been used often.

“You’re welcome. I’ll teach you how to do it yourself, if you’dlike.”

Dawn nods eagerly, and Birdie keeps talking. “I’m so glad you’re here. You’re exactly who we need.”

“Really?” Dawn asks.

Birdie suspects she’s never been “needed” in her entire life.

According to River’s chatter earlier, Dawn’s the sixth daughter in a wealthy family.

The very definition of superfluous. She’s probably been made to feel like a burdensome afterthought her whole life.

Worse than a burden, after she was infected with an ability.

But now there’s a growing sense of excitement in the room. Happiness, even.

“Nimbus needs help,” Birdie says.

Silent tears stream down Nimbus’s face, his breath coming in panicked, shallow gasps.

Like his body is doing it without any conscious thought.

It reminds Birdie of an injured mouse they found once.

Magpie sat and cried for hours. But Nimbus isn’t dying, and this time there’s something they can do to help.

“What’s wrong with him?” Dawn’s mood begins to shift away from happiness and into fear. She’s barely thirteen. Still a child. Birdie doesn’t blame her for being scared.

“He can’t tell us. But you can still help. Can you think of things that make you happy? So you can share those feelings with Nimbus?”

Dawn looks uncertain. She glances back at Forest. He nods encouragingly. She tips her chin up with firm determination. “Yes. I can do that. Oh! I know! Have you ever eaten bread pudding?”

Birdie laughs. “I haven’t.”

Dawn sits on the bed next to Nimbus. She hesitates, then takes his hand and starts talking, detailing the exact perfect temperature and texture for a bread pudding.

The mood in the room lifts once more. Within moments, Nimbus’s breathing calms. The tears stop.

He might not be with them mentally, but his body is reacting physically to Dawn’s mood.

Dawn notices the change, which makes her even happier, which makes everyone else feel even happier. “My second-favorite thing,” she says, ducking her head bashfully, “is telling stories.”

“What kind of stories?” Birdie prompts.

“They’re all about the daring adventures of Princess Solstice.

She’s smart and kind and good, but she’s trapped in a castle with five wicked witches who don’t want anyone to notice her.

” She launches into an extensive description of Princess Solstice, who sounds suspiciously like Dawn herself, but with florid details and, inexplicably, an extra set of eyes on the back of her head, which she uses to do magic.

Once she’s finished describing the exact cut and style of the princess’s dress, Dawn lets out a happy sigh. “I’ve got ever so many stories about Princess Solstice. I’ve been dying for someone to share them with. Do you think—do you think Nimbus would like me to tell him my stories?”

Birdie nods. “Nimbus loved—” She catches herself talking about him in the past tense. He’s still here. He’s going to get his treatment and get better. “He loves stories. He used to sneak books into his room every night and get candle wax on the pages, trying to read after dark.”

As Dawn waves away Birdie’s offer to stay and says that she’s going to take care of Nimbus on her own, it strikes Birdie that this was perhaps even more of a kindness to Dawn than to Nimbus.

Dawn needs a friend. She needs to feel wanted and useful.

And this way, Birdie can worry a little less about Nimbus.

She shouldn’t be worrying about any of them. She should only be looking for ways to get into the House Wife’s records.

Frustrated with herself but unable to regret this small success for two lost children, Birdie steps into the hallway. She means to thank Forest for his help, but Lake is there, standing in Forest’s way. Her hands are on her hips, a fierce scowl on her cherubicface.

“When you scream,” she says, “it makes my ears bleed. Also, tell your father to stop shouting. He’s very unpleasant.

” She turns her head, tracking something’s progress down the hall toward the entrance.

Then she looks at Forest again, closing one eye.

“How are you there and here?” She stomps a foot, furious.

“Everyone should only be in one place. I hate this. Here.” She holds out a sheet of paper toward Birdie, then stomps away as soon as Birdie takes it.

There’s a bold red circle with what might be a girl in the center of it. Birdie stares after her, puzzled.

“Any idea what that was about?” She looks up at Forest, but his smile is gone, replaced by an expression of genuine fear. Before she can ask what’s wrong, he strides away, long legs taking him around the corner in a few short steps.

Birdie’s more disappointed than she likes. After their stolen moment on the bench and then his help here, she thought—

Well. She thought nothing useful or appropriate or helpful. She needs to put the barriers between herself and all of them back up, for her own safety.

The rest of the day passes in a tedium of work.

The windows in the greenhouse are in desperate need of cleaning, so she sets to it.

Part of her can’t help but hope Forest comes in again.

Whenever her thoughts stray, they land on him.

What got him sent here? Why doesn’t he talk? What was he like before?

“Focus,” she mutters to herself. She can’t afford to care about any of this. Only Magpie matters. How to get through that door and access the House Wife’s records is the only question she should have.

It’s hard to gauge the time of day with the sun so muffled by fog and clouds, but Birdie’s stomach lets her know when suppertime is near. She missed lunch entirely. With a longing glance toward the House Wife’s still-closed door, Birdie hurries into the kitchen to help set the table.

She’s going to tell Cook about Rabbit’s drinking. Birdie hates herself for it. But she has to be the one to help the House Wife. Otherwise this has all been for nothing.

Cook isn’t in the kitchen, though. Everything is in disarray—piles of dishes on the counter, an abandoned pot of something congealing on the table, the remains of lunch shoved to the side.

Birdie knocks on Cook’s bedroom door.

“Go away,” Cook slurs.

Cook isn’t coming out again today. Birdie’s on her own. But she’s only ever trained to clean a kitchen, not use one. What can she possibly throw together for everyone?

Minnow emerges from the pantry with her arms full. “Oh, there you are. I saw you were busy with the greenhouse, so I cleaned the bathrooms.”

“With help!” chirps a voice behind her as River appears, arms equally full.

Minnow barely suppresses an eye roll. “Yes, with help.”

What is Minnow up to? And why is she so close with River? Cook specifically warned them about River, since no one knows what River’s ability is.

If Minnow isn’t really a maid, what if River is also more than she’s letting on?

Dr.Bramble has been trying to sneak someone into the House of Quiet for years.

It makes sense that he wants to understand the treatments, since he helps run the procedure.

He probably feels guilty for the ones it hurts.

But maybe he isn’t the only one trying to learn how it all works.

Rumors of northern spies have circulated in Sootcity for years.

What if they’ve decided to infiltrate the House of Quiet as well?

But which one would it be: the maid who doesn’t know how to be a maid, or the chatty, overly friendly rich girl who claims to know everyone but won’t say what got her sent here?

Maybe Birdie’s paranoid after six months spent skulking and spying at the minister of finance’s country estate. But one of the letters she stole was about the minister of defense and several northern spies who escaped from detention there. No one knows where the spies went.