"Theophana!"
Mother's shocked expression reminded me of how I must look. My hand ventured to my hair, trying to smooth it away from my face. However, there wasn't anything that I could do about the dirt and the blood everywhere.
I expected her to hurry over to me, but Smitta Farlin stood like a wall between us. His spectacles were perched on the end of his nose as he glared down at me. The expression on his face was cold and rigid.
"Well," he said softly, "look who decided to return."
I didn't know what to say. My voice withered away before I could form the words in my mind. The sense of relief that I'd felt mere moments before vanished, leaving a cold emptiness in its place.
Farlin folded his arms across his chest. He stood up straighter, jutting out his chin. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
I ducked my head before his fury. There wasn't any way to know how he'd react—I'd never made him that angry before. I froze like an animal caught in a cage.
"Do you have any idea of the trouble you've caused?" he hissed at me.
I took an involuntary step backward.
"Grand Smitta Leen repeatedly asked to speak with you," Farlin gestured forcefully. "What was I to tell him?"
Mother hurried to set down the baby before rushing to her husband's side. "I think it would be good to get her cleaned up before we continue this discussion," she interjected. "Perhaps we could even wait until morning…?"
The Smitta shot her a look of disdain before turning to stomp out of the room. He went into their bedroom, closing the door sharply. Mother breathed a small sigh before turning to face me.
"Go to the kitchen," she instructed quietly. "I'll bring you a change of clothes."
I did as I was told, walking woodenly into the next room.
I set up the privacy screen and retrieved the bathtub from the storeroom. I started the water heating while Mother returned with clean clothes and a bar of soap.
She helped me to undress since it was difficult for me to do it on my own. I saw her face tighten when she exposed my bruised and torn skin. She averted her eyes from the dried blood on my thighs, urging me into the water as if it would wash away what had happened to me.
I could see her frowning at the bracelets on my wrists and the necklace around my throat. They seemed starkly out of place next to my battered body. She didn't mention them, though, so I didn't either.
Once I'd been washed and dressed, Mother began the process of braiding my hair. It was then that her emotions began spilling out. Her lips began to tremble and her eyes filled with tears. Seeing her like that broke down the restraint I'd had up to that point.
Tears flowed down my cheeks. "Mother," I began.
"How could you?"
I stopped abruptly.
She shook her head, looking heartbroken. "How could you do that to us?" she asked. "After everything your father has done for you, how could you shame him like that?"
It was as if my blood had been replaced with ice. I couldn't move. I could barely think. What was she saying to me?
Mother finished braiding my hair, wiping her eyes angrily. "I'm so disappointed in you, Theophana. I don't even know what to say."
I struggled to take a breath.
"Disappointed?" I repeated.
"We wouldn't have anything if it weren't for Farlin," Mother went on. "We wouldn't be able to set foot in the town if it weren't for him. How could you…!"
I clutched the skirt of my night dress. My eyes were fixed on my mother, but I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing.
She was looking at me—yes, she could see me—yet she didn't seem to acknowledge anything in front of her. Couldn't she see the knife cut on my cheek? Didn't she notice my split lip and swollen face? Were my bruises invisible?
My heart felt like it had been wrapped in thorny vines. I could feel their presence growing tighter and tighter. My eyes overflowed unchecked and I could do nothing but continue to stare.
"Mama," I whispered.
She held up a hand in a sharp motion. "No," she cut me off, "don't you try that with me. You can't charm your way out of trouble this time."
It was as if she had slapped me. My mouth worked soundlessly for several moments, but nothing came out.
"You snuck out of the house without even leaving a note," she went on relentlessly. "You've been gone for days, Theophana. Do you know what your father and I have had to do to cover for you? For what? So you could traipse around the forest with your demon friends and dress up in this ridiculous manner?"
She shook one of my wrists, making the bracelet on it jingle.
"Take these off at once," Mother insisted, sounding increasingly agitated. "Take them off!"
My arms were still raw from the ropes that had bound me. The pain from her grasp brought my voice back to life.
"I can't," I cried. "They won't come off, even if you try to break them."
She shot to her feet. "I will break them if I must."
I grabbed her hand to stop her. "Mother, they're helping me to heal," I rushed to explain. "I was poisoned by those green pellets Smitta Farlin has been giving me."
She shook me off, looking even angrier than before. "Stop lying!"
"That's why I went to the forest," I insisted. "I had to get rid of the poison."
It was all the truth that I could tell her. I could never get her to understand what I'd done for Wake and her seed, so I knew it was something I couldn't share. The poison, though, was something that I could explain to her clearly.
"Budding helped remove most of the poison, but it took longer than I thought," I told her. "I was asleep, so I didn't know until it was over."
Mother's face hardened. "Not another word," she snapped.
I fell silent.
She didn't believe me. I was sitting in front of her as living evidence of what I'd experienced, but she still didn't believe me.
She hadn't even asked how I'd been injured.
We stared at each other for several moments, neither of us making a sound. I forced myself to take slow, steady breaths even though my chest was shaking. Inexplicably, the tears in my eyes started to ebb despite my increasing distress.
"I'm telling the truth," I said quietly.
"You're being hysterical," my mother responded. "I think we should finish this discussion in the morning."
"I almost died coming home."
The words fell like stones to the ground. They sat between us, untouched where they'd been cast.
Mother reached up to smooth her hair, turning around to face away from me. "Farlin has done so much for us," she reiterated. "We wouldn't have anything without him. Even if he's made some mistakes, you should still be grateful and understanding."
If.
I closed my eyes. I couldn't bring myself to respond.
"I'm sorry that the pellets made you feel unwell," she continued, "but that's no excuse for the choices you made. If you felt sick, you should've told me. We have a perfectly capable physician right here in town. There was no need to resort to magic."
She said the last word as if it embarrassed her.
It probably did.
My mother wasn't just upset because I'd gone missing for a week. She wasn't angry about my irresponsible decisions. She was embarrassed that she'd had to account to others for me. Everyone had been reminded of my existence—my non-human-ness—and she'd had to acknowledge her role as my mother.
She'd been happily playing the part of Mistress Dean, and I'd brought all of it down around her.
Did she expect me to apologize?
I'm sorry, Mother, I shouldn't have left.
I'm sorry, I should've let Smitta Farlin do whatever he wanted.
I shouldn't have cured the poison.
I shouldn't have come home.
I slowly got to my feet. There was nothing else that either of us could say—certainly nothing else that we should say. I curtsied to her, as I'd been taught to do when leaving the presence of a stranger.
The walk up to the attic was slow and painful. I climbed straight into bed without bothering with any lights. I lay on my back, staring into the darkness. The familiar outlines of my room didn't bring any comfort to my mind.
As exhausted as I was, I couldn't fall asleep. The emptiness I felt inside was strangely heavy, weighing down on my chest. It made it hard to breathe, let alone relax. After several minutes of tossing and turning, I finally sat up and leaned against the wall. I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my chin on my knees.
"What now?" I whispered.
I had never felt so lost, even though I was home. I couldn't begin to imagine continuing with my life as before, but somehow that seemed like the only option. Smitta Farlin would expect me to learn my lesson and show proper contrition. Mother would expect me to be grateful for being allowed back into the village. Everyone else would expect me to keep my head low and stay out of sight.
It seemed so simple, but the very idea choked me.
I thought about my days in the village as they'd always been. There would be times when I would be confined to the house because it wasn't 'appropriate' for me to be around others, and then there were my veil and coverings to hide my features when I was allowed out. There would be mandatory lectures to attend, where Smitta Farlin would point to me and talk about the evils of non-human influence.
Most importantly, there would be hostile stares and cruel words from all of the townsfolk. That was something that would never change.
Mother truly believed that our lives were different now that we were living in the town. I admitted that there had been changes, but that didn't mean that it was for the better. Even her life, which she claimed was wonderful, seemed worse to me than before.
My mother had been so full of life once. She'd laughed and scolded and sang and told stories. Mother had loved to weave, making the most beautiful lengths of linen. She'd walk with me to gather berries, sit with me in the sunshine, and chase me if I was being naughty.
Had that life been so terrible?
She'd traded it all so readily in exchange for her husband and a place in the village.
What was she doing now?
Her loom had been taken away. Her singing had been reprimanded. She wasn't allowed to leave the town, and she rarely left the house. Even all of the little decorations that she'd loved had been called useless and thrown out.
The only interests she had were the ones shared with her husband. The only tasks she took on were the ones given to her by him. Her remaining opinions were merely echoes of his.
Smitta Farlin said that Mother should stay home and care for the house and baby, so that's what she did. He said that excess learning was a waste of time for a woman, so she agreed. He told her she should be ashamed of her past, so she was. He said that my tiernan blood made me flawed and evil…
A single tear rolled down my face before I could stop it.
I shook my head, smiling bitterly. At least she was able to walk through the town and pretend she belonged. She could hear the other women call her Mistress Dean (although, one could guess what they still said about her behind her back) and be acknowledged by her family.
That must've made it all worth it to her.
But, me?
No.
None of that was worth it to me.
I wasn't willing to lie to myself. I knew that I would never belong, no matter how hard I tried. I would always be viewed as a demon, even if I spent my whole life living by the rules that they set for me.
My stigma wasn't one I could ignore. It was literally on my skin. Everyone would see it the moment they looked at me. No amount of subservient behavior would change that.
More tears came unbidden.
I pressed my lips together, clenching my hands into fists. I thought about Budding, Min, and Wake. What would they say to such thoughts?
I almost smiled as I imagined the lecture Min would give me.
What are you saying, mud brain?
I started to laugh, but it immediately turned into sobs. I covered my face, doing my best to stifle the noise. I knew I couldn't afford to do anything else that would anger Smitta Farlin.
I lay down on my bed again, crying into my pillow.
I missed Budding and Wake so much.
It didn't make much sense—it wasn't as if I was accustomed to seeing them often—but I could feel their absence acutely. I knew they were gone beyond my reach and the knowledge left a hole in my heart.
Everything that had happened to me on the mountain had changed me. I couldn't pretend otherwise. The thought of going back to how things had been before made me feel physically ill. It was a betrayal to Wake and Budding, who had given their lives for me.
It was a betrayal to myself.
I could still feel every bruise and cut on my body. I could still remember every horrifying detail of that night in the soldiers' camp.
How could I pretend that none of it had happened?
How could I go on with my life as if that section of memory didn't exist when it pressed so forcefully on my thoughts?
I would probably see some of those soldiers again. After all, some of them were from the village. Was I expected to treat them as strangers? Should I pretend that they had never done anything wrong?
I shuddered.
They would all go on with their lives. They would be praised for their bravery and sacrifice. Whereas I would continue to be pointed at as a source of misfortune, no matter how many good deeds I did.
I was the evil one.
I was the demon child.
Even my mother had used the term earlier when describing tiernan. How could I fight against the prejudice of the townsfolk when my own mother thought the same way?
I sighed deeply. No, I couldn't bring myself to bow my head and live in silence. What good would it do, anyway? I might've been tempted if it would've granted me a peaceful life (even though I was ashamed to admit that to myself), but I knew it would be pointless.
No one would accept me for who I was.
If I was being honest with myself, I knew that Mother had never truly accepted me, either. Even during our happiest days, she'd always held tightly to my human half while keeping a nervous distance from anything tiernan. She'd always been more comfortable pretending that part of me didn't exist.
The only people who had embraced me for who I was were my three friends whom I had met when I was eleven years old. And now, two of them were dead.
The despair I felt seeped into my bones, robbing me of warmth. I had to acknowledge that I was completely alone. My friends were gone and my mother had abandoned me for her new family. There was no one I could rely on.
From then on, I could only go forward using my own strength. I wouldn't have any help or advice from those around me. I closed my eyes, feeling the bitterness like an actual taste in my mouth.
Part of me wished that I could go to sleep and not wake up again. (A large part of me.) The peace of sleeping forever sounded like paradise—but one that I knew I couldn't have. I knew that the morning would come and I knew I couldn't escape. I knew that I would have to face Smitta Farlin and the rest of that hateful town.
There would be no reprieve, there would be nowhere to hide. I wouldn't even have a pair of arms to hold me when everything felt like too much. None of that mattered, though. I still had to go on.
I stared at the ceiling for several moments, letting the sorrow take over.
"There's no one left who loves me," I whispered to the darkness.