Page 96 of The Poison Season

Leelo nodded. “Yes. Just before I left.”

He inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. “This is a lot to take in.”

“I know.”

“It seems as though you have friends here in Bricklebury. And I know we’ve only just met. But I want you to know that if you and Tate would like to live with me, you have a home. Always. Sir Percival and I would love to have you.”

Leelo ran her fingers through the grass, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you. That’s very generous.” She was grateful for the offer, though she couldn’t imagine going to live with Nigel now. “You know, Tate was just his nickname,” she said, desperate for a change in subject.

“Oh?”

“Our aunt came up with Tate. His real name is Ilu.”

“Ilu. What does that mean?”

“Precious one.”

He smiled. “That’s a lovely name.”

“It is,” Leelo said, glancing up to see her brother walking toward them, struggling to hold three jars of lemonade. She rose to help him, thinking of all the things that she’d once held dear—a lace-trimmed dress, a striped feather, a wooden box engraved with swans—and knew in her soul that nothing was more precious than this.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Over the next few months, the Rebanes, the Kasks, and Nigel helped build a small cottage for Leelo and Tate, close to the Kasks’. It was hardly bigger than the shack Jaren had stayed in on Endla, but it was far sturdier, and more importantly, it was theirs. Leelo hadn’t been ready to move to Nigel’s house, to be so far away from Jaren and, if she was being honest, Fiona. She was always in Leelo’s thoughts, helping to guide her when she felt lost and afraid, which happened more than she wanted to admit now. Before, she’d known her place in the world, even if she hadn’t always agreed with it. She didn’t feel prepared to run her own household, to make all the decisions for herself and Tate. Still, Nigel was a part of their lives now, and Leelo was grateful for it.

Tate helped Lupin with the bees and often spent time at her house with the Rebanes, who still thought of him as their foster son. Leelo had gotten to know Lupin a little—as much as she could, anyway. There was something that separated them, probably the fact that Leelo had chosen to leave Endla, where Lupin had been forced to. Leelo and Jaren were the first Endlans ever to leave by choice and survive, as far as she could tell. And she was the only one who knew the songs.

But she had soon discovered that she didn’t have to sing. Or, if she wanted to, she could sing the sorts of songs that Jaren taught her. Sometimes they sang together, and the harmony of their voices would remind her of being home, and she would feel an ache in her chest that she knew was homesickness, even if she didn’t want to admit to missing Endla. Here, when she ran her fingers through the grass, there was no answering vibration. When the trees rustled overhead, they weren’t speaking to each other. There was no hum of magic in the air, and though she knew that the Forest’s magic had been evil in many ways, she missed it.

She missed helping Sage with the lambs and gathering berries and herbs in the Forest. She missed swimming in the spring-fed pools. She even missed Watcher duty sometimes, sitting on the shore as the sun rose across the water, hearing the wild swans trumpet in the sky, praying that they would land somewhere else. She missed the festivals, the way Endlan voices would join together so perfectly that it was almost as if they were one voice, the voice of Endla itself, releasing its cry into the universe. She missed feeling like she was a part of something.

It was strange, to be a stranger. To feel the eyes of every villager following her when she went into town. No one was ever cruel to her, and over time they began to speak to her—and eventually accept her, when they knew she wasn’t going to lure away their children with one of her wicked songs or seduce their partners in the night. She was just a girl, they would come to realize. A girl wanting to be accepted, a girl who had never wanted to harm anything.

But there was Jaren, and his very existence helped on even the hardest days. His sisters had warmed to her, especially Sofia, who followed Leelo around like she was some kind of mythical creature.

You still have magic, even if you don’t sing, Jaren had said to Leelo one time as she lay in his arms, winding his fingers through her hair gently. It reminded her of what Sage had told her, and she reached into her pocket to touch the crude swan carving her cousin had made.

She still missed Sage sometimes, and even, every now and then, Aunt Ketty. Leelo couldn’t help feeling that if she’d known the truth all along, things could have been different. Ketty had killed Uncle Hugo, but she’d done it to protect her sister, and that altered Leelo’s perspective of everything. It was such a Ketty thing to do, to defend one thing at the complete expense of another. To be so afraid of what the truth could do that she would literally bury it. Sage had been fed a different poison than Fiona, but it was no less bitter, no less destructive.

Mostly, though, she missed her mother. Knowing that she was so close yet so far away kept her up at night. Tate still cried for Fiona in his sleep, and while Leelo did her best to comfort him, she often wished there was someone there to comfort her.

One November night, she, Tate, Jaren, and Nigel were sitting on the porch of Leelo’s cottage, wrapped in blankets and scarves against the cold.

“The lake will be frozen soon,” Nigel said. “Two more months, at most.”

As badly as Leelo wanted to get her mother, a part of her was afraid of what they would find when they went. What if Mama didn’t want to come with them? Worse still, what if she hadn’t survived? At least from here Leelo could convince herself that things on Endla were as they’d always been.

Leelo had told Nigel about Ketty poisoning her mother, but she’d kept that and many other things from Tate. She knew one day she’d have to tell him everything, but she didn’t want to add to his heartache. Hers was profound enough for both of them.

“Yes,” Leelo said. “We’ll go as soon as it’s safe to cross.”

Nigel smiled and Sir Percival sighed, tucking his long nose under the edge of Nigel’s blanket.

“What about Story’s friends?” Tate offered. “The other incantu. I bet they miss their families, too.”

Nigel and Leelo shared a glance. Tate was right. If anyone had an interest in uncovering the truth, it was the exiled children of Endla, the ones who had lost everything because of the Wandering Forest.

“I bet Story would be happy to pay Grimm a visit,” Jaren said, and their laughter echoed in the dying light.

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