Page 71 of The Poison Season

When Leelo was gone, Jaren lay on his blanket, staring up at the ceiling and seeing only Leelo’s face. He wanted to memorize it because he knew there would never be another one so lovely.

It was growing dark outside when he finally forced himself to get up. He could still go to the pools for a bath tonight; the cold water would help clear his head. Even if he couldn’t fathom leaving Leelo, he liked having a plan. And besides, there was still a chance he could convince her to join him.

He stripped down and lowered himself into the water until it was over his head. The pool was small but deep enough for him to submerge completely, and he liked the feeling of weightlessness. It was quiet under the water, peaceful.

When he was finished washing, he reached for his clothing, only to find his tunic was not where he’d left it.

He ducked back down, scanning the woods, and noticed his tunic was just a few feet away. Still here, fortunately, but definitely not where he’d left it. It had to have been the wind, he told himself, or a curious animal. But everything was quiet and still, and he had the distinct feeling he was being watched.

He climbed out of the pool and dressed as quickly as he could with his skin still damp. Just as he was tying the laces on his boots, he saw something move in the bushes.

There. A face. Pale skin and freckles, yellow-green eyes that could have belonged to a wildcat as easily as a girl. She disappeared a moment later, silently. And Jaren knew that whoever she was, she had wanted him to know she was watching.

Chapter Forty-Four

When Leelo stepped into the house, she was relieved to see Sage peeling vegetables at the sink while Ketty cooked. Fiona had fallen asleep in an armchair.

“Where have you been?” Ketty demanded. “You’ve been gone for hours. I thought I made myself clear.”

“I was with Isola,” Leelo said, her eyes darting to Sage. But her cousin didn’t look at her.

She went to her mother and knelt down, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. She didn’t have a fever, but her skin was sallow and dull. It didn’t make sense. She had been fine last week. What could have changed since then to make her so ill?

Fiona’s eyes fluttered open. “Oh, Leelo. How are you, dear one?”

Leelo sat on the arm of the chair, careful not to bump her mother. “I’m fine, Mama. Are you all right? You don’t look well.”

“It’s just another bad spell. It will pass, as it always does.”

“You’re not singing enough,” Ketty said over her shoulder. “You always get sicker when you don’t sing.”

Fiona ignored her sister and stroked Leelo’s cheek with the back of her hand. “You look so beautiful, so grown.”

Leelo smothered a shy smile. Shefeltdifferent, but she couldn’t imagine she looked like anything other than her old self. “I don’t know about that.”

“Well, I do.” Fiona gestured that she wanted to get up, and Leelo helped steady her. “Come upstairs with me. I have something I want to show you.”

In classic Sage fashion, she chose that moment to chime in. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“We won’t be long,” Fiona said. “Help me up the stairs, darling.”

Leelo couldn’t remember the last time she’d been in her mother’s room. Once, it had been Fiona and Kellan’s, and she had distant memories of sitting in the corner rocking chair with her father, of her mother brushing her hair at the vanity. But now there were two small beds, one for Fiona and one for Ketty. There were no bright felted ornaments in here, just lace curtains yellowed with age and a charcoal sketch of Leelo and Sage as girls.

“What did you want to show me?” Leelo asked as her mother sat on her bed.

“It’s in the wardrobe. There’s a box at the top. Fetch it for me?”

Leelo nodded and opened the doors of the wardrobe. Inside, it smelled like cedar and lavender. All of Mama’s sweaters were folded neatly on shelves next to her few skirts and single dress. Though she delighted in making clothing for Leelo, she was a creature of habit, wearing the same plain blouses and skirts most of the time.

Leelo reached up to the top, feeling among the knitted blankets and linens, until her hand closed on a small wooden box. She pulled it down, her fingers running over the carving of two swans, their necks bowed toward each other, forming a heart.

“Where did you get this?” Leelo asked as she handed it to her mother.

“Your father made it for me. He was quite a skilled carver, you know.”

Kellan had been a carpenter—he’d made most of the furniture in their home—but Leelo had never known he could craft something so delicate. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was my wedding gift. He said the swans are a symbol of fidelity, since they mate for life.”

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