Page 26 of The House of Quiet

Chapter Twenty

A River Rejected

River wakes after sunrise, head aching and stomach twisted. It’s the first time since she got here that she’s slept through the night.

And she doesn’t remember any of her dreams. Not even the ones with Minnow.

River’s had feelings for other girls before, but never like this.

Never so intense and persistent. If it weren’t for that terrifying red circle, River would actually love sleeping just for the opportunities to spend time with Minnow when Minnow at last has her guard down.

Not that River isn’t trying to get that guard down during the day, too.

She’s been a relentless flirt. Minnow doesn’t seem to mind, but she never fully reciprocates.

Minnow’s waiting for something, River’s sure of it.

She always seems alert. She pays too much attention to the others in the house, while paying very little attention to the types of things Birdie does.

For example, Rabbit’s constant inebriation doesn’t bother Minnow at all.

She never complains that Rabbit isn’t doing her share of the work.

Minnow helps keep the house running, but she doesn’t care about the work the way Birdie so obviously, desperately does.

Then again, Minnow isn’t fixated on the House Wife and her locked door the way Birdie pretends not to be. It could simply be that Birdie’s got more ambition than Minnow, but River knows that’s not it. Minnow isn’t lazy like a dog lying in the sun. She’s ready , like a cat perched on a ledge.

But sleeping through the night means River missed their midnight kitchen time. She hurries to her door, expecting it to be locked for once and is disappointed to find it open.

Did they leave her out? It stings. Not just because she doesn’t like imagining Birdie and Forest getting smiles from Minnow when those smiles are River’s to win, but because no one else seems to understand that this house and at least two people in it want them dead.

How can she keep them safe if they don’t include her?

She’s tried to check on Sky’s dreams again to see if he’s still happily stalking and slaughtering them, but she can’t find him.

It’s like he’s gone quiet. Which she supposes is the point of the house, but why would it take away his dreams?

She hasn’t tried too hard, though. She always finds her way to Minnow, sooner rather than later, and stays there as long as she can.

Minnow, unfortunately, is still on her list of people in the house who might be deadly. But who is she to judge a little light murder?

River stumbles into the hall and nearly runs into Birdie. Who, judging by her sleep-red eyes and dazed expression, is also just getting up for the day. Something is wrong.

“You slept in, too?” River asks.

Birdie nods, clearly troubled. Minnow bursts out of the stairwell behind her, frantically tying back her still-wet hair. “Why didn’t anyone wake me up?” she demands.

“We all slept,” River says. Curious.

“Come on,” Birdie says. “We’re behind schedule.” She snags Minnow, and River retreats to the kitchen, surly and alone.

There’s something else off, too, but she can’t put her finger on it. It nags at her all morning as she prepares breakfast. Minnow comes in to help, but she’s distracted and no fun at all.

Minnow looks up in a start as a burst of flour explodes against her apron.

River goes back to kneading the bread dough. “ Someone hasn’t heard a word I’ve said for the last ten minutes.”

“Something’s strange,” Minnow says.

River smiles, because she’s figured it out. But she wants to tease Minnow for a little longer. “I know what it is.”

“Oh, really?” Minnow leans close, and then she frowns.

“How does sleeping all night leave you more exhausted than barely sleeping at all?” She traces a thumb around the crescent of the shadows beneath River’s eyes.

River freezes, holding her breath, afraid to break this moment.

Remembering everything they’ve done in Minnow’s dreams.

Minnow must remember it, too, because she looks down at River’s lips and keeps her thumb on River’s cheek.

“The stove,” River breathes.

“Yes, it’s nice and warm.”

“And it smells like…” River prods with a smile, her own eyes drifting to Minnow’s lips. She knows what those lips feel like in their dreams. She wants to taste them while they’re both awake.

“Like woodsmoke. Not peat,” Minnow says.

But rather than congratulating River on figuring out what is different, or leaning in and rewarding River’s cleverness with a longed-for kiss, Minnow looks like she swallowed a rock.

She takes a step back and stares at the stove, unmoving, unblinking.

Then she turns and walks into the pantry with all the grace of a wooden puppet.

River scowls. She expected Minnow to be more curious, to puzzle over this mystery with her.

Because River knows for a fact that last night there was no wood left.

Dawn wanted to roast nuts, and Minnow teased her that without wood to burn, the nuts would end up tasting like dried peat.

Then she offered to go out into the bog and get Dawn some fresh peat to nibble.

Dawn pretended to be horrified but was actually delighted by the attention, which meant everyone in the kitchen was delighted, too.

It was a good evening. Even Cook came out and took over supper.

Birdie comes into the kitchen with Forest. He’s River’s baking assistant, when he’s not skulking in the greenhouse waiting for Birdie to meet him. They think no one knows, but they’re not that good at being sneaky.

Forest is gentle and kind and spews poison in his dreams. River has no doubt he’s capable of terrible things and has maybe already done them. He’s on her list, too.

“Did you sleep last night?” River asks, keeping one eye on the pantry.

He nods. They both look rough. Birdie’s hand keeps drifting to her forehead like it’s aching, and Forest slouches his broad-shouldered self at the table instead of getting to work helping River.

None of the other residents have come in yet.

They’re almost always on time for meals, which are the most entertaining thing in the house.

River frowns, puzzling it out. Last night, Cook didn’t let River prepare the meal or the aromatic tea she gave everyone as a treat afterward.

It was the first meal in days that River hadn’t been in charge of.

Is it possible Cook did something to them to make sure everyone would sleep through the night?

Why drug them now? They’ve been sneaking around every single night. Surely if Cook knew, she would have reprimanded the maids.

The wood. It’s new. Someone brought in supplies last night.

Did Cook think they might try to leave on the carriage?

They’ve all been sent here by their families; they have nowhere else to go.

And it’s not as though seeing supplies being delivered would disturb them.

If anything, it would have been the highlight of the week.

Which makes River suspect that whoever came in the dead of night was bringing something else. Something none of them were meant to see. But what?

River scans the kitchen, trying to take stock of what else has changed.

There! A sprig of flowers in a teacup by the window.

River knows every flower that grows within safe walking distance of the house, because she’s picked them all to tuck into Minnow’s hair while Minnow grumbled but let her do it.

Those flowers were brought from somewhere else, for Cook.

If the driver is sweet on Cook, that’s interesting gossip. River hurries into the pantry. Minnow is staring at a container of flour like she’s seen a ghost in it. Or maybe she’s still dazed from being drugged.

“I’ve figured something else out,” River says.

Minnow turns to her, a dull look of resignation in her eyes. This isn’t the aftereffects of the tea. This is something else. Somehow, between coming into the kitchen and walking into the pantry, Minnow’s become a different person. There’s a distance between them, a cold flat sheen to Minnow’s gaze.

“What changed?” River asks. She tries to demand, but her voice comes out tight and afraid.

“The smoke. You said so yourself.” Minnow tries to move past her, but River throws out an arm to block her.

“No, something else happened. What happened, Minnow?”

Minnow lifts a hand and presses it softly against River’s cheek. River leans her head against it, the weight of Minnow’s eyes roving her face nearly physical. At last, Minnow smiles. It’s a gallows smile, though. A smile of endings.

“It isn’t you,” Minnow says. “It was never you.”

And then Minnow steps around her and leaves as River’s heartshatters.