Page 82 of The Poison Season

“How long?” Jaren asked, rubbing at the places where the rope had chafed him.

“When the sun sets, once the singing begins, the Hunt is on.”

Jaren stared at the man, who nodded, and with that, Jaren took off for the shore. He stumbled over roots that appeared out of nowhere, tripped over rocks he didn’t see. Branches that should have cleared his head smacked him in the face as he ran in what he hoped was the direction of the beach. He could hear the singing now, eerie and yet hauntingly beautiful. It didn’t lure him in, however. It just made him aware of how many people out there were trying to kill him.

He thought of his family: his gentle, loving father, his sisters, each so different and yet all just as loving as Stepan. He thought, too, of his mother, how he had always secretly believed that he was her favorite, though she would never admit it out loud. And he thought of Leelo. He wished he could spare her from all the pain he’d caused her, but he would never regret loving her. Whether it was fate, bad luck, or simply a hungry wolf that had brought him to Endla, it was all worth it to have fallen in love with her.

There, through the trees. He could just make out the glint of moonlight on water. He was almost there. A few more yards, and he would be on the beach.

Suddenly, a shadow stepped out of the trees, blocking his path. He couldn’t make out much in the darkness, though he was relieved it wasn’t one of the burly men who had held him prisoner. He skidded to a stop, wishing he had some weapon—any weapon—to defend himself.

The person stepped forward, and as the moonlight slanted across her face, he felt his breath leave him in a rush.

“I knew you would come straight here, coward that you are,” Sage said. “And now I get to be the one who kills you.”

Chapter Fifty-One

Leelo sat with her hands over her ears, trying to drown out the sound of the Hunters by humming a lullaby to herself. Her mother had fallen asleep beside her, but she woke with a sudden start, wincing in pain.

“Mama?” Leelo peered into her mother’s face. “What’s the matter? Are you ill again?”

Fiona took a sip of the water Leelo offered her and shook her head. “I’ve been ill for a long time, darling.”

Leelo tried to ignore the distant singing, but it was almost impossible. Worst of all, her own throat ached to join in. She reached for the cup of tea Ketty had prepared for Fiona before she left to soothe the pain.

“No!” Fiona’s hand shot out so fast it knocked the cup over, sloshing liquid all over the table.

For a moment, they both sat staring at each other, catching their breath.

“Saints, Mama. What was that about?” Leelo rose to fetch a towel and began to blot up the tea, but as she leaned closer, she was hit with a scent that was unfamiliar until yesterday. The same scent that filled the cave where the boat was kept. Where the lilies were grown.

Her eyes darted to Fiona’s. “Mama? What’s in this tea?”

Fiona must have seen the realization on Leelo’s face, because she only closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh.

“Answer me. Why does your tea smell like the lilies?”

When Fiona opened her eyes, they were wet with tears. “It’s my medicine.”

Leelo was trying to understand what her mother was saying, but she was too distracted by the distant singing to make sense of it. “What medicine?”

Fiona leaned back in her chair. “You know that poisonous plants can have medicinal uses as well as fatal ones.”

Leelo nodded. “We use autumn crocus to treat gout. And the foxglove leaves for your heart troubles. What does that have to do with anything.”

“After your father died, I became ill. I couldn’t sleep. I wouldn’t eat. Your aunt nursed me back to health. The lilies, if highly diluted in water, can treat several ailments, including depression.

“After a time, I began to heal. But I refused to sing again, not even at the funeral. It wasn’t like not eating. That was a choice. But singing was different. I simply couldn’t do the thing that had once brought me so much joy. Not after what I’d done.”

Leelo wasn’t sure if singing had ever brought her joy. It had simply been a part of her, like the breath in her lungs and the blood in her veins. Giving it up didn’t feel like an option.

“Ketty used to chide me at every festival. ‘Sing, or you’ll get ill again. Sing, or you’re going to die.’ But the more I refused, the angrier she got. And then I took a turn for the worse.”

“Did you know she was making you sick?” Leelo asked, her fury rising.

“No. Not at first. I believed her when she said it was because I wouldn’t sing. But then one day I saw her making my tea. And I knew then she was using too much of the extract of lily. Enough to cross the line from medicine to poison.”

Mama was the one who had warned Leelo of that very thing. Every time she prepared a tea or a tincture, Leelo had to check her calculations three times. “Then why did you keep drinking it?” Leelo demanded. “How could you do that to yourself? To Tate, and to me?”

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