Page 7 of When the Wicked Sing
Mariana returned the gesture, making both of them release a sad, short chuckle. But Mariana didn’t want her news to ruin their morning. She wanted to run away from the darkness, just for a little bit, and straight into the light.
Standing, she said, “Now.” She grabbed a few bundles of herbs to take over to the tiny kitchen. “Let’s hurry up and get you ready for the market. The sun’s already up, and we’re running out of time.”
Celeste waved her hands. “Bah, it’s fine. We have all the time in the world. They’ll always wait for my potions,” she said with a twinkle in her eye as she began stuffing tea bags.
A sudden knock on the door startled them both.
Mariana’s hands froze mid-pluck of the mint leaves. Celeste stiffened, her smile faltering as her gaze darted toward the door. For a fleeting moment, there was something unreadable in her expression—a shadow of unease that Mariana had never seen before.
“I’ll get it,” Celeste blurted. Her voice was calm, but its slight tremor in it wasn’t lost on Mariana. Her friend rose from her chair, her jaw tightening as she crossed the room with hurried steps.
Mariana tilted her head, her brows knitting together. “Do youwant me to—?”
“No, no,” Celeste interrupted, already at the door. She paused with her hand on the knob, her body momentarily still as if steeling herself. Then, with a deep breath, she opened it.
A raggedy middle-aged fisherman stood on the other side, the smell of salt, sweat, and stale fish wafting in like a noxious tide. Mariana wrinkled her nose and stepped away, trying to subtly cover her face as the man began speaking in a gruff, hesitant tone.
“Good morning, Miss Celeste,” he said, pulling off his battered hat and twisting it nervously. “We checked out that island you asked about—”
“Just a moment,” Celeste interrupted sharply, holding up a hand. She glanced back over her shoulder, her brown eyes meeting Mariana’s. The unease in her gaze hadn’t faded, but her lips curved into a strained smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ll be right back,” she said softly before slipping outside and shutting the door firmly behind her.
Mariana blinked, caught off guard.
Her curiosity sparked, and though she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t resist stepping quietly toward the window. She peeked through the colorful curtains, her heart beating a little faster as she strained to catch their conversation.
“What do you mean it was empty?” Celeste’s voice quivered, the heartbreak in her tone slicing through the air like a blade.
“I mean, there was nobody there,” the fisherman replied with a helpless shrug. “Not a single person around. The place was deserted.”
“You were certain?” Celeste pressed, her hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “You lookedeverywhere?”
“We searched the whole island, just like you asked,” the fisherman said, gesturing with his weathered hands. His gray dreadlocks swung slightly as he adjusted his stained hat, clearly uncomfortable. “I know this was important to you, but … there wasn’t anyone there. No signs of life. No footprints. Nothing.”
Mariana’s frown deepened as she studied her friend. Celeste’s shoulders slumped, her head dipping as if the man’s words had stolen the strength right out of her.
The fisherman hesitated before placing a hand on Celeste’s shoulder, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. Then, with a tip of his hat, he turned and trudged away.
Mariana stepped back from the window just as Celeste opened the door and reentered the cabin. Her smile had returned, but it was weaker now—and forced as if stitched together by fraying threads.
“Sorry about that, dear,” she said brightly, shutting the door with a soft click. Her voice carried its usual warmth, but her eyes were distant as she hobbled back to her chair.
Mariana watched her, chewing the inside of her cheek. “What was that about?” she asked casually, plucking a few mint leaves and pretending she hadn’t just been eavesdropping.
“Oh,” Celeste said, waving a hand in the air, “don’t worry about it. It turns out it was nothing, so…” She shrugged, her forced smile returning. “Nothing to worry about.”
But her gaze flickered away, lingering briefly on the door before dropping to the table. Mariana caught it, and the knot of unease in her chest tightened. Whatever Celeste was hiding, it clearlywasn’tnothing.
Mariana hesitated, then cleared her throat. “You know,” she started carefully, “if something’s going on and you need my help—”
“No.”
The firmness of Celeste’s voice startled Mariana. Her friend met her gaze, her expression softening almost immediately as if to ease the sting of her words. Celeste swallowed hard, her eyes scanning the cluttered table for something to busy her hands with. “No, thank you, dear,” she said more gently, shaking her head. “Let’s just focus on getting ready for the market. The people will need their potions and brews.”
Her smile was warm again, but the tension that had rippled through the room hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Mariana’s hands paused over the mint leaves, her gaze lingering on Celeste’s face. She didn’t like being shut out. Celeste had always been the one with whom she could share her burdens. It felt wrong to know her friend was struggling with something but wouldn’t let her in.
Her thoughts drifted to a memory—one that had been tucked away for years but now resurfaced with startling clarity.
