Father. None of us have been able to speak with him.”
“No matter,” Ann said carefully, although I didn’t miss her surprise at the news that Everiss was missing. “I’ll speak to her later.”
I looked at the piles of yarn waiting to be dipped in color. Did Jullia have to do all this herself? “Can we help you?” I burst out.
The courtyard filled with silence. My own words to Adam echoed in my head. You don’t help other families with their quota. It just isn’t done .
“I have a few minutes,” I said quickly. “I don’t...I mean, I am no Dyer, of course, but...”
Jullia’s eyes looked suspiciously wet, but she blinked a few times and managed to produce another weak smile. This time it lingered a few seconds. “Oh. Yes. Thank you.”
Ann breathed in deeply. Her expression was briefly a startled one, as if I’d suggested we strip naked and paint ourselves blue, but then she nodded, too. “Of course. We have a few minutes to spare.”
We worked quickly and clumsily under Jullia’s direction, dipping the yarn into the steaming liquid using special forks. The yarn seeped up the color and turned a deep shade of red. Jullia hung the freshly dipped pieces against the side of the house, and the dye dripped into the snow below. In my head, I saw a flash of blood against the snow. I blinked the memory away.
By the time we’d finished, the sun had climbed high in the sky. The day was slipping away.
“I think we should be going,” I said. “Ivy and Jonn might worry.”
Jullia grabbed my hand with her purple-stained ones. She fumbled for words. “Thank you,” she said finally, and her face crumpled as if she wished she could say more, but didn’t know how to do it.
Ann hugged her, and we turned to go.
A sigh squeezed between my lips as we reached the road and I stretched. My shoulders ached and my back throbbed after an hour of dying. What must Jullia and Everiss feel like, doing this day after day? For the first time in my life, I was thankful to be a Weaver.
Neither of us commented on the fact that we’d helped Jullia. But I felt a little lighter. We’d helped her, even if it was against tradition. Maybe Adam was right.
“Oh, Lia,” Ann said as we turned the corner. “They are living in squalor, fulfilling their quota in a dirty alley. There were rats .”
“They have a lot more to worry about besides rats,” I said, glancing down the street in search of Farther soldiers. Didn’t she understand? They were completely and utterly vulnerable. They were being forced to fulfill their quota without the adequate resources or means to do so.
They were being broken. Punished.
Sharpness and shadow filled the village now, almost as much as the Frost outside. At least in the Frost, we had the snow blossoms to ward the Watchers off. Here, there was nothing to keep the Farthers at bay if they wanted to kill one of us, and the monsters in uniform roamed day and night.
Ann bit her lip. I looked at the sky—it was time for me to be heading back—and then at her face. “I’ve got to go.”
She nodded.
I hovered there a moment, both reluctant and eager to leave. Worry tugged at my heart with invisible threads as I studied my friend’s pale face. I didn’t miss the way her eyes swept the street, or the way her fingers trembled.
What was she not telling me?
“Be safe,” she said, her teeth bone-white against her lips as she tried to smile and failed. We touched hands, and I stepped away from her and down the street for the gate. When I looked over my shoulder, she had already vanished.
With unease gnawing at my gut, I turned my face toward home.
TEN
WHEN LATE AFTERNOON came, I saddled the horses, running my fingers over their shaggy coats to check for burrs before settling the blankets over their backs and then the saddles. When I retrieved the bridles, a shadow moved against the light of the window, and Adam was taking one of the bridles from my hand as I sucked in a
“No matter,” Ann said carefully, although I didn’t miss her surprise at the news that Everiss was missing. “I’ll speak to her later.”
I looked at the piles of yarn waiting to be dipped in color. Did Jullia have to do all this herself? “Can we help you?” I burst out.
The courtyard filled with silence. My own words to Adam echoed in my head. You don’t help other families with their quota. It just isn’t done .
“I have a few minutes,” I said quickly. “I don’t...I mean, I am no Dyer, of course, but...”
Jullia’s eyes looked suspiciously wet, but she blinked a few times and managed to produce another weak smile. This time it lingered a few seconds. “Oh. Yes. Thank you.”
Ann breathed in deeply. Her expression was briefly a startled one, as if I’d suggested we strip naked and paint ourselves blue, but then she nodded, too. “Of course. We have a few minutes to spare.”
We worked quickly and clumsily under Jullia’s direction, dipping the yarn into the steaming liquid using special forks. The yarn seeped up the color and turned a deep shade of red. Jullia hung the freshly dipped pieces against the side of the house, and the dye dripped into the snow below. In my head, I saw a flash of blood against the snow. I blinked the memory away.
By the time we’d finished, the sun had climbed high in the sky. The day was slipping away.
“I think we should be going,” I said. “Ivy and Jonn might worry.”
Jullia grabbed my hand with her purple-stained ones. She fumbled for words. “Thank you,” she said finally, and her face crumpled as if she wished she could say more, but didn’t know how to do it.
Ann hugged her, and we turned to go.
A sigh squeezed between my lips as we reached the road and I stretched. My shoulders ached and my back throbbed after an hour of dying. What must Jullia and Everiss feel like, doing this day after day? For the first time in my life, I was thankful to be a Weaver.
Neither of us commented on the fact that we’d helped Jullia. But I felt a little lighter. We’d helped her, even if it was against tradition. Maybe Adam was right.
“Oh, Lia,” Ann said as we turned the corner. “They are living in squalor, fulfilling their quota in a dirty alley. There were rats .”
“They have a lot more to worry about besides rats,” I said, glancing down the street in search of Farther soldiers. Didn’t she understand? They were completely and utterly vulnerable. They were being forced to fulfill their quota without the adequate resources or means to do so.
They were being broken. Punished.
Sharpness and shadow filled the village now, almost as much as the Frost outside. At least in the Frost, we had the snow blossoms to ward the Watchers off. Here, there was nothing to keep the Farthers at bay if they wanted to kill one of us, and the monsters in uniform roamed day and night.
Ann bit her lip. I looked at the sky—it was time for me to be heading back—and then at her face. “I’ve got to go.”
She nodded.
I hovered there a moment, both reluctant and eager to leave. Worry tugged at my heart with invisible threads as I studied my friend’s pale face. I didn’t miss the way her eyes swept the street, or the way her fingers trembled.
What was she not telling me?
“Be safe,” she said, her teeth bone-white against her lips as she tried to smile and failed. We touched hands, and I stepped away from her and down the street for the gate. When I looked over my shoulder, she had already vanished.
With unease gnawing at my gut, I turned my face toward home.
TEN
WHEN LATE AFTERNOON came, I saddled the horses, running my fingers over their shaggy coats to check for burrs before settling the blankets over their backs and then the saddles. When I retrieved the bridles, a shadow moved against the light of the window, and Adam was taking one of the bridles from my hand as I sucked in a
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