Page 80 of The Poison Season

“Go!” Mama screamed at Leelo, and everything slowed down as she turned and reached for Jaren’s hand, hauling him toward the boat. Isola slashed repeatedly at the rope, trying to free it, and Fiona, finding some strength Leelo had never witnessed before, was there at the stern, pushing with all her might.

Sage hurled herself at Isola, knocking the girl down. The rope was frayed but still holding on by a thread. Jaren was in the boat, taking up the oars and using them to push away from the shore. Sage screamed when she realized that Leelo was in the boat with him.

“Leelo!” Sage was at the stern, her boots perilously close to the water’s edge as she pulled with all her might in one last desperate attempt to stop her cousin from escaping. “Don’t leave me!” she screamed.

And then the others were there, pulling next to her. Sage collapsed in relief, sobbing like a baby, as Jaren and Leelo were hauled out of the boat—Leelo kicking and screaming like a wild animal, Jaren silent and resigned to his fate.

And as Leelo was torn away from the people she loved, she saw that Sage was smiling in relief, even as holes formed in her boots where they’d been splashed in the commotion. Sage didn’t care about the pain she caused anyone, not even herself, Leelo realized.

Just as long as Endla was sated.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Jaren stood at the center of the pine grove, trussed up like a turkey, surrounded by the Endlan council members. There had been an argument about what to do with Leelo, her mother insisting that she be taken home to avoid any further trauma, while Ketty insisted she stay and watch what her selfish actions had wrought.

Ketty, unsurprisingly, had won.

Leelo sat next to her mother on a log just outside the circle of council members. Her cousin was there, too, attempting to speak to her, but Leelo just stared dead-eyed at the ground in front of her. Her braid had unraveled in the chaos and her hair hung around her in soft waves. Jaren wanted nothing more than to hold her and promise her everything would be all right, to apologize for involving her in this awful mess, to tell her he loved her again and again.

“The punishment is clear,” one of the council members said. He was a large man, one of the ones who had hauled him out of the boat. “The Forest, or the lake.”

“That may be true under normal circumstances,” Ketty said. “But this boy has done far worse than the average criminal. Not only did he use our own vessel to deliberately cross to the island, nearly destroying our one boat in the process, but he seduced one of Endla’s daughters and tried to lure her away.”

Jaren wanted to point out that was not entirely true, but with a gag in his mouth, the most he could do was gurgle in protest.

“Shut up,” Ketty said, poking him with a stick in between his ribs, which were already bruised from being dragged through the Forest by several burly men.

“And what would you have us do with him?” another council member asked. “Kill him ourselves?”

Ketty began to nod, but someone else spoke. She was an elderly woman with a kindly look about her, and Jaren began to feel a small spark of hope that someone might defend him. “What about a Hunt?” she said in a honey-sweet voice.

There was a murmur of excitement among the council members, and Jaren realized with growing dread that the little old lady was not defending him at all.

“What’s a Hunt?” Sage asked, a little too gleefully.

“We let the boy go on the far side of the island, and then we sing the hunting song,” Ketty explained. “Whoever catches him gets the honor of sacrificing him to the Forest.”

Jaren’s eyes met Leelo’s, and he knew the terror he saw there was reflected in his own.

“Let’s put it to a vote,” Ketty said, but Jaren stopped listening then. He already knew what the answer would be.

It could have been several minutes or several hours later when Jaren was hauled to his feet (he’d collapsed to his knees at some point, it seemed) and dragged through the Forest.

He lost sight of Leelo and her mother, and maybe that was for the best. He couldn’t stand to see the anguish on Leelo’s face anymore. He hoped for her sake that she wouldn’t have to participate in the Hunt, that she would be well clear of the pine grove when they slit his throat. He hoped Ketty wouldn’t be the one to catch him.

Around him, the Forest was silent. It had to be the middle of the night by now. Would they do it tonight, he wondered, or would they wait till morning? Either way, he was so exhausted he knew he wouldn’t last long. He decided he hoped they’d do it tonight. He wanted to get this over with.

Finally he was pulled up a walkway to a large cottage. The big man who had spoken first at the council meeting yanked him through the doorway. “You’ll stay here tonight,” he told Jaren, which was the first information he’d received all night, and he was strangely grateful for it. “The Hunt begins tomorrow night at sundown. You’ll be fed before then, though not much. And if you cause any trouble, I’ll slit your throat myself.”

Jaren nodded. He was pushed into a bedroom, brusquely untied and ungagged, and locked inside.

He collapsed on the bed and curled onto his side, too tired to even check his body for damage. What did it matter, when he was going to die tomorrow anyway? His stomach turned sour at the realization that he’d been so close to freedom, of escaping not just on his own but with Leelo, and now he was going to die. He didn’t even hate Sage and Ketty or the other Endlans. They were doing what they thought was necessary. He just wished he could prove to them that he would never hurt Endla, or any of the people on the island.

At some point he fell asleep, and he woke to sunlight streaming through the windows. For a moment, all he could think about was how nice it had been to sleep on a real bed. He stretched out and rolled onto his side, and that was when he remembered where he was and why. His mouth felt fuzzy, his wrists were raw where they’d tied him with rope, and his injured leg was acting up again. But he was still alive.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. A man—not the same one from last night, but one similar in stature—brought in a tray of food and set it on the nightstand without looking at Jaren. As if he was afraid Jaren and his outsider ways might rub off on him somehow.

Jaren hadn’t had a hot meal since he came to Endla, and he quickly gobbled down the porridge, scalding his mouth in the process. For jailers, they were being awfully considerate. There had been cream and honey in the porridge, though Jaren had eaten it so fast he’d hardly tasted it. He wondered if it would be considered rude to ask for more, then decided it probably would be.

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