55. Commands in dark times

                                    

                                          
The ringed candles flickered and spluttered, forming thin shadows that danced across the name of Ada's grandmother. A date had been inked at the top of the page; the Spring Equinox, almost half a century ago. Had the stories been true this entire time? Was Rosamund not the mad woman, after all? All those days, living alone, within the Wystwood. All those nights, struggling up Cresthill to the Wishing Well. The Fae had haunted Rosamund Kavanagh for almost fifty years.
                          
Beneath the name were two pictures, both startlingly lifelike, as though an oil painting had been instilled with shivers of life and movement. The first was a flower with a narrow stem and a head of purple petals, which almost seemed to catch the light of the candles above. Below was a locket, heart-shaped and golden, though worn around its edges with a loosened latch.
                          
Ada's fingers fluttered over the book, nearly touching the page, as if she could pluck the locket from its paper. But her fingers closed only on her empty palm, and Edmere drew the Gilded Book back across his desk.
                          
"You tricked her," Ada said, her hands both falling into her lap. "She came to the well for help, all that time ago, and the only things you gave her were a glass flower and a lifetime of ghosts."
                          
"She made a dealing, Adalyn," replied Edmere. "A dealing in return for a wish. She knew the price, and still, she agreed and gave her gold. Still, she placed herself in debt, and passed that debt on to her family; to you."
                          
Ada shook her head. "She couldn't have known."
                          
"She knew," said Edmere. "She knew deep in her heart that such a time would come to pass. I do not deny that Rosamund grew to regret it, as is clear from all the nights she came back to bargain down the well. But the dealing had been made, life came and went, and the world..."
                          
"Sought a balance that she could not compete with," Ada finished, suddenly cold in the study deep beneath the earth.
                          
"Yes." Edmere nodded, and softly closed the book. "I gain no pleasure in summoning you here, Adalyn. It is not to spite yourself, or your grandmother. But dark times call for certain measures, and these days have been dark indeed."
                          
"You wanted me to find the name of the Saltsworn," Ada said. "But I've already seen so much, and I've hurt so many people. I don't know what else I can do."
                          
"You forget the powers you have in Wysthaven. The strengths you possess that Fae do not." Edmere paused, his pale eyes shining spectral. "There have been prophecies of a human and their connection to magic. Words that have only been whispered upon the winds. I understand your trials, but you must also know what is at stake for us if you cannot succeed. We have few hopes remaining."
                          
Ada thought of Min, swaddled like a baby while streaked with soot, and abruptly couldn't bear to sit still any longer. Her fingers were numb, and her boot knocked a stack of books as she stood. "May I leave?"
                          
"I haven't the authority to make you stay. You may come and go as you wish."
                          
Ada stared at Edmere for a long moment. Then she turned and left the study without a backwards glance. Yue waited just outside the door, and when Ada emerged it seemed she might say something, but Ada walked past and Yue didn't call out or stop her.
                          
Back in the antechamber, Ada crossed the room and took the stairs that the bandits had previously descended two at a time. She didn't stop to look at the patterned stones set into the walls, or to examine the balls of burning sage that flickered to life in front of her. She simply followed their dim trail of light, turning right once, then again at the end of a sloping passageway.
                          
An empty entranceway framed a long room beyond, in which two bunk beds were stacked in the far corners. Shelves of aged wood panelled every other wall, while large bunches of sage smouldered upon strings from the ceiling. A wide oak table stood by the entrance, upon which sheets of marked paper had been pinned into the wood, each splotched with spilt liquids or burnt at their edges. Bottles and vials had been snatched from their shelves and crammed into clusters, while balms and balsams wafted a pungent scent out into the passageway.
                          
The fae with scarred eyes, Hester, snatched ingredients with startling speed from the table in turn, mixing ointments and oils together in the palm of her hand. So absorbed was she in her work that Hester didn't notice Ada enter the room and walk to where Min lay on the bunk beds, still and quiet, her small hands lost in Armestrong's who knelt on the floor at her side. Lark sat on the other lower bunk, his ankle now knotted around with a strip of gauze. He looked up as Ada approached, but his eyes were hooded and he gave a low shake of his head.
                          
"Oh, Min, sweet girl," murmured Armestrong, brushing aside a curl of the girl's hair as Hester bustled over and began smearing a thick salve onto Min's arms. Min's body had clearly been washed with at least a towel and water, for there were no more stains upon her skin, and ash had been smoothed from her hair. Bright burns coursed up her arms and legs, though their colour was fading under Hester's salve.
                          
Yet even with Hester turning her limbs this way then that, and with Armestrong clutching her hands and repeating her name, Min didn't so much as blink. The child only stared up at the bunk slats above, her eyes darker than Ada had ever seen them.
                          
"Min..." Ada whispered, dropping to her knees next to Armestrong. Still, the girl didn't react.
                          
"Min, I'm— I'm so sorry," Ada tried again, and after a moment Armestrong shifted away and buried her face in her patchwork skirts. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I didn't ever mean to bring danger like this into your life. I said I'd help you, but I've only hurt you and your... your..."
                          
Ada couldn't bring herself to say his name, and she couldn't keep the guilt from clinging to her mind like bile in her throat. She wanted to sob, but Min was still staring, not a whisper or a whimper leaving her lips.
                          
"I wish I had never come into your life," Ada breathed.
                          
Min flinched, blankets falling from the bed as she shifted her gaze, ever so slowly, to stare at Ada. Her eyes were bloodshot and dry, as if sorrow had stolen all her tears away.
                          
"You would wish such a thing?" Min rasped through cracked lips, and suddenly it was not sorrow but anger that shot through her eyes and blistered her skin red.
                          
Ada knelt, speechless, as Min's lips curled back and she said so that only Ada could hear, "Adalyn Kavanagh, I command you go—"
                          
Some great force seemed to close its fingers around Ada's body. It was as though a storm had swept her into its eye, and she had as much control over her tongue as she did her smallest toes. She struggled to suck in a breath, but her lungs felt constricted and closed. Her entire existence was panic and whatever words would come from Min's mouth next.
                          
But then the girl gave a sob, her whole chest convulsing, and as she fell back onto her mattress the force left Ada's body and she could move once again. Armestrong gasped, knocking Ada down as she lurched over and bundled Min's hands back into her own. All around the bed, the bunches of sage had burnt out.