Page 45 of Those Fatal Flowers

And it’s quiet. This is the first time I’ve seen the streets completely empty. Margery’s footprints entering the kitchen and Thomas’s footprints leaving it, both already half filled once more with fresh powder, are the only indication that anyone’s managed to rouse themselves from bed. It’s as if the entire colony collectively decided that today is a day for rest. Its beauty erases Margery’s worry from my mind until the frigid air forces me to close the door to the sparkling world.

“We have no record of it getting this cold, of it eversnowing like this here.” Margery’s voice is grave as she adds more wood to a pile of coals in the hearth.

“It’s going to be all right, Margery.” I draw closer to her, holding my hands before the budding flames to warm them. “I’m going to meet with the Council today to plan our departure—”

Her tone takes on a sympathetic lilt that can only be pity. “Oh, my lady, they won’t let you join a Council meeting.”

“What do you mean? I’m the only one who knows where Scopuli is. How can they plan to sail there without me?”

“They won’t be planning to sail anywhere. Not with the weather like this. It’s too dangerous to be at sea when it’s this cold.”

A soft ringing begins in my ears, and I shake my head to try to expel it. “No, that’s not right—Master Thomas said that we’d leave within the week.”

Margery smiles sadly. “Was that before or after he lost to Master Waters?”

I turn away from the hearth, unable to bear the truth of her words. It makes the ringing in my ears grow even louder, and my hands find the back of a chair to steady myself. “I need to speak to them, to Thomas, right away. Do you know where he went?”

“No, my lady, but he’s never gone long.” An iron pot clangs behind me as she hangs it over the fire, and then two warm hands find my shoulders. “Come, sit with me and wait for him.”

But morning creeps along, and Thomas doesn’t return. Even Agnes remains scarce, and the idea of them both colluding somewhere makes me want to crawl out of my skin.

“Why don’t you go rest?” Margery asks after a time, her nerves shot after a full morning of balancing my worry with her own. Being alone is the last thing I want, but I owe hersome peace, so I retreat to my room and suffer time’s sluggishness alone.

The sound of his footsteps finally graces the stairwell sometime well into the afternoon. They pause before my door, and my ears strain, expecting to hear thecreakof hinges. But the sound never comes, and so I throw open the door for him.

“Master Thomas, there you are!” I say, doing my best tostrain my lingering irritation from my tone. “I’ve been wanting to speak with you.”

A coy smile crawls over his lips as he closes the gap between us, his hands moving to brace himself on my doorframe. “Is that so? What about, my lady?”

I force my feet to remain planted where they are, even when he leans his body in closer to mine. “Did you speak with the Council today? When can we return to Scopuli?”

Thomas’s smile falls into the impression of a pout, and he reaches to take a lock of my hair between his fingers. “Why would I rush to send you into another man’s marriage bed?”

I balk, stunned by his brazenness. “You said we’d leave within the week.”

“Even if I wanted us to leave now, the weather isn’t on your side, my lady.”

“What are you saying?” I hate how my voice climbs an octave without my permission. “That we’re stuck here until spring? Thomas, your own people will starve—”

I should have known that a plea to his humanity would have no effect; his stores are fuller than the other villagers’. He’ll survive the winter regardless, and the smug smile that still graces his lips confirms it.

“Don’t fret, my lady. This weather is unusual. It’ll warm up soon enough.”

“But even if it does, I’ll still be promised to Will—”

His fingers curl into a fist around my hair, and instinct drives me away from him. Thankfully, Thomas releases me without a fight, but the relief is short-lived as his smile contorts into a hideous, knowing grin. I’m frozen by the sight of it, by the knowledge that we’re both remembering last night and how it felt for him to press me against the meetinghouse. He uses the opportunity to devour me with those cold blue eyes. But the slightest shift of his body forward is enough to shatter the spell, and my hands fly to the lip of the door, ready to slam it closed.

Thomas laughs and raises his palms in submission as he falls back, turning to continue to his own room. I watch him for several breaths, closing the door only once I’m certain he won’t come charging for me.

But distance doesn’t stop him from landing one last sickening blow. His voice floats down the hall, slipping into my quarters just before my door clicks into place.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens, won’t we?”

11

Before

I wait for times when Pisinoe and Raidne are occupied and slip away to Jaquob’s hut. His strength isn’t returning, and despite my insistence, he refuses to eat the meat that I bring him, feigning fullness. A trapper by trade, he has a deep familiarity with landscapes and the food they’re capable of producing. He suspects the meat for what it is, but he never questions its origins. After a time, I stop bringing it.

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