Daks was grateful Ora was such a sneaky child. He awoke at midday, the sun shining through the curtains. He went down to eat breakfast—or rather, lunch—finding Ora playing with the other children again.

  They set out in their wagon. The market district bubbled with busyness: the roar of a multitude of voices, the thunder of footsteps, and the clatter of wagon wheels and horse hooves against the cobblestones.

  Three Spotters stood near the butcher shop in their night-blue uniforms. One of them—a large-faced gentleman with a thick, black mustache glanced in his direction. Daks averted his gaze. He didn’t recognize any of them, but he didn’t care to be noticed.

  Ora smiled and leaned forward in her seat, soaking up all the excitement. “Daidi, look at that monkey! I’ve never seen a real one before! Would a monkey like living on a farm?? Oh, look, Daidi! They’re selling one-eyed fish toys! Daidi! Oh! That lady’s selling red pears! Can I get some??”

  Daks handed Ora some chips. She hopped off the cart, holding a burlap sack, purchased some red pears from a woman who herself resembled a red pear, then ran and hopped back up on the cart.

  Daks watched Ora, eagerly sinking her teeth into the flesh of a pear. He laughed as clear red juice ran down her chin. She looked up at him and smiled with her now red-tinted teeth, and he laughed again.

  “What, Daidi???” She giggled. Daks wrapped an arm around her, kissing her forehead.

  “Nothin.’ I love you, Rae-Rae.”

  “I can’t wait to go see the Wakeman! Last time they gave me some black licorice and green stockings!”

  “I remember that! You wore those every day for a month.”

  “They’re the best socks I’ve ever had! Even better than the ones Mam made me.”

  Daks stopped the cart in front of a brick building, which looked a lot like the buildings around it. Above the door, a large wooden sign read, “Wakeman Mercantile.” One thing that set apart this building’s exterior from the other buildings was that this one had vines with sweet-smelling, yellow flowers growing all over it, hindering passersby from seeing much before entering. Daks had never seen this kind of vines anywhere but on this building.

  Daks had climbed down from the cart with a crate of purple carrots when suddenly before him stood a girl. If he did not know better, he would think she looked about 10 years old. Her long, wavy hair was white as snow, cascading over her shoulders, and her skin was nearly as white but with a drop of the faintest pink blushing through. She wore a smooth, sage green blouse with sleeves ending above her elbows and sage green, tweed pants that ended just below the knee—like a boy’s—lavender tights, dark brown ankle boots, and fingerless lace gloves. Today, her expressive eyes were a sharp, pale blue.

  Daks didn’t startle as easily anymore. This wasn’t the first time she had revealed herself so suddenly. That was her way, as was ignoring the weather with her clothing choices. He set down the crate on the ground and hugged her. “It’s good to see you, Airienn.”

  For someone only a few digits taller than Ora, she was a firm hugger. “And you, Daks.” He was almost used to her strong, deep voice. She turned around as Ora jumped off the cart and embraced her. “And Ora! You came at the perfect time.”

  Ora giggled. “You always say that!”

  “Well, it’s always true, leibli.” Airienn Wakeman kissed Ora on the cheek and looked her in the eyes. “I never lie. Are you ready to see what Liam is working on in the greenhouse today?”

  Ora jumped up and down. “Yes! Yes, please!”

  “Well, you know where to go! I’m going to help your father.”

  Ora squealed. She ran back up the stairs, opened the door, and disappeared inside the store.

  “What did you bring today?” Airienn smiled softly up at Daks.

  “You know what I brought. Why do you ask?”

  “I like to listen to you say it. I wouldn’t have given you a mouth if I didn’t want to hear your voice. I love when you talk to me.”

  “I brought carrots, turnips, broad beans, peas, and spinach.”

  “Precisely what the store needs. They’ll be sold tomorrow. Let me help.”

  “You don’t—”

  With little effort, Airienn grabbed two big crates stacked on top of each other from the cart and vanished.

  “—Have to.” Daks sighed. He added another crate on the one he already had and carried them up the stairs to the shop door. The door opened inwards before he reached it, and he walked through. He glanced back. The other cartons of produce had disappeared from his cart. Maeve stood drinking out of the water trough before her, content.

  Airienn stood behind the front counter. Potted plants of all different kinds—bushy plants, small trees, and the like—littered the counter with trinkets squeezed in among them. The customer bell was barely visible, but Daks had never made it far enough to ring the bell. Airienn or Liam always met him by the time he entered the store.

  Airienn stood with her back to the counter, facing the wall of shelves behind it. Her arms raised directing all of Daks’ crates that were floating above her head into different compartments of the shelves with her hand motions.

  It would be most convenient to be able to do his chores on the farm with just a wave of his arms. But he had yet to meet anyone the Wakeman had seen fit to give such a gift.

  Airienn chuckled.

  Had he heard her thoughts?

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  “Of course I do. Why are you always surprised I know what you’re thinking?”

  Daks took the crates around behind the counter and set them on the floor.

  “Good, good,” Airienn said as she elegantly pushed her arms through the air. She turned and beckoned for the new crates to fly, and they obeyed.

  Once all the items had been placed, she turned back to Daks. She smiled. “Well, you know how we do things by now. Let us go find what you need. I would say start in the back corner. You are surprised.”

  Airienn skipped around the counter to Daks. She grasped his hand. “I’ll walk with you.”

  They walked toward the back of the store. The main floor, the shop, was small, but packed with all sorts of items. Munchings, clothing, toys, treats, even farming equipment, dishes, and so many other things covered every surface. It was always crowded in a cozy and homey sort of way.

  “Ora’s worried about you,” Airienn said. “Do you want to talk about the girl you found?”

  “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to make of all this. She seems like a good woman. She gets along with all of us. She is willing and able to learn. I like joking with her. But…what she told me the other night and then what I heard at the pub—” He sighed. “I just don’t know what to make of it, or what to do with it all.” He paused. “You know what she did.”

  Airienn grimaced. “Yes, I do.” She paused. “Breaks my heart.”

  They approached a table. A bronze trinket box sat on it, a little raven carved into the lid. Daks smiled and picked it up. “This is for Ora, isn’t it? She loves to collect little things she finds. This will be perfect.”

  “Yes, it is. May I?”

  Daks opened his hand with the trinket box in it. The box disappeared with a flick of Airienn’s hand. She tugged at his hand. “Let’s keep going.”

  They passed more little tables and big tables and shelves of seeds, sweet things, machines of wood and metal, a few sculptures, jewelry, even a stack of bricks in a wheelbarrow.

  Airienn sighed. “I do not tell you why or how these things with Primrose have occurred. She herself didn’t fully know.

  “Evil is a dark oblivion—both something and nothing. It reaches out with its tentacles, latching onto the darkness in peoples’ hearts to consume them. It consumes and consumes but is never satisfied. It is an infection that sometimes spreads quickly and sometimes spreads slowly. Sometimes by the time a person finally sees the darkness within, he no longer wants to kill it. Sometimes he even decides the darkness is part of himself, holding tightly to it, and then he lets it take over. Prim allowed the darkness to consume her, but she sees the darkness, and she doesn’t want to give herself to it.

  “I also remember you are once a murderer. But I see you now, and that is not who you are.”

  “Cath was saying something like that, and I do understand that is true.” He paused. “Airienn, I have trusted her from the beginning, and even now, even knowing what she’s done, I still trust her. And I shouldn’t trust her. I need to protect Ora, but I’m not worried about her at all. But I do want to protect Prim. And that scares me.”

  They stopped by some tools.

  Daks picked up a hammer. “I’ve been needing a new one. The chicken cype needs some touching up.”

  Airienn nodded. She waved her hand, and the hammer disappeared from his hand.

  He looked at her. “Are you doing this? Did you bring Prim to our farm?”

  “That’s an interesting question. It’s one you get to work out. We have our hands in everything in one way or another.”

  “Is it my duty to turn Prim in to the Spotters? Will we be found out that we’re willingly harboring her as a fugitive?”

  “You know that the Spotters rarely make it outside the city walls. No, I don’t think you’ll be found out unless you were to tell them.”

  “Should I?”

  They walked further and stopped at a table with a large basket on top. The basket overflowed with neatly-folded pieces of fabric. Some pieces were solid-colored while others bore patterns of flowers, dots, or stripes. Daks picked up a large piece that was a blueish green with white leaves—“Oh—Ora and Prim could both get dresses from this piece. Ora’s been wanting to sew more.”

  Airienn grinned at Daks and gave a little jump. “She enjoys sewing so much—or she will, I suppose.”

  Daks handed her the fabric, and it vanished.

  He sighed. “You are infuriatingly obscure sometimes.”

  “I know, but you love me.”

  Daks groaned.

  “I’m glad that you’ve come to me for guidance. I just can’t offer you help in the way that you are wanting it.”

  Daks and Airienn arrived at the back corner to see the wall of shelves. There sat a set of five pottery mugs. Then on the shelf beneath the mugs, right at Daks’ eye level, was a brown, leather book. His heart leapt into his throat, though he didn’t know why: “What is that?”

  “It’s a sketchbook.”

  “For Prim.”

  “Yes, ‘tis.”

  Daks picked up the sketchbook. The leather was brand new and smooth as he ran his fingers along it. He unlatched the bronze latch and flipped through the blank, crisp, cream-colored pages. “It’s beautiful. Does she draw? She’s never mentioned it.”

  “Yes—well, it’s been a while—and also, not yet. My apologies. She did used to draw when she was younger. And she will draw again soon if you give this to her.” Her eyes pierced Daks’.

  He stared down at the small leather book, so heavy in his hands. He sighed deeply and then looked up at Airienn. “I need to give this to her.”

  Airienn nodded. “You should take the charcoals, too.”

  Daks picked up the charcoals that laid on the shelf next to the leather book. Then he handed the book and charcoals to Airienn where they disappeared.

  The rest of the time they spent wandering around the shop seemed more somber. Neither of them spoke. Daks picked out some new boots for himself, some seasonings, and a painted plant pot Ora and Prim might enjoy.

  Airienn said, “Is that all for this trip?”

  “Rae-Rae was really wanting a doll.”

  “Oh, yes, I have it behind the counter.” Airienn skipped to the front counter. She pulled out a box and sat it on the counter for Daks to see.

  It was a doll representing the people of the forest: a dark-haired, light, brown-skinned woman with majestic antlers. A large freckle below each of her bright green eyes, her thick hair braided around the base of the antlers, and wearing a long, pale pink dress with her toes barely visible underneath. A thick streak of gray ran through her hair.

  “That’s what Quin’s mother, Istra, looked like the one time I met her. On our wedding day.”

  Airienn smiled. “Yes.” The doll disappeared.

  “She’s beautiful. Ora will love it.” He leaned down to hug Airienn. “Thank you so much.” He drew back. “Do I owe you any chips? It seems I received more than I brought.”

  Airienn’s smile was always so warm like a hug. “No, they’re gifts for you, liebli. Always.” Her face lit up. “Oh! Liam’s showing her the hornbeam tree!” And she disappeared into the air.

  Daks climbed up three flights of stairs to the greenhouse level. The sun shone in through the glass roof. Unlike the empty shop, the greenhouse was bursting with activity, full of a variety of people working in the garden or sitting on benches. Daks heard a voice say, “She’s over here!” He turned, sliding between people until he came to Airienn, Liam, and Ora. They were all crouched on the ground near a small plant.

  The red-headed Liam looked up at Daks with a warm smile, arose, and shook his hand. The parts of his face not covered in facial hair featured an abundance of freckles. “Daks, it’s good to see you as always. Ora’s helping us with this little hornbeam tree. She’s so wonderful at gardening.”

  “Thank you. I’m very proud of her. It’s a wonder she’s not a jensine.”

  “You’ve taught her well, and she enjoys it.” Liam turned back towards Airienn and Ora. “Ora, your father’s here. You better go with him.”

  “Aww!” Ora exclaimed. “But I want to stay a little longer!”

  “We have to go, Ora,” Daks said. “We have more stops to make.”

  Ora’s pouty lip emerged.

  “You are a wonderful gardener,” Airienn said, hugging the girl. “I love you. We’ll see you soon.”

  Once Airienn, Liam, Daks, and Ora had all said their goodbyes, Ora took Daks’ hand and sauntered down the stairs to the ground floor.

  Daks’ mind couldn’t keep up with Ora’s chatting as his thoughts continued to drift around Prim.

  “…And then he said that that kind of bug only comes out at night! Can you believe that? Daidi?”

  “That’s so interesting. I’m glad you learned something today.”

  “I love the Wakeman.”

  “Me, too, Rae-Rae. Me, too.”