Serah nodded as he turned to leave. “Wait, Graham.”
“Yes?”
“I promise to put in a good word for you—with Machin—for when he needs another apprentice.”
“Thank you. That’s kind. And—” He freed his pocketed hand and nudged her chin upward. “Cheer up. Machin chose you. Things will only get better.”
Serah’s flicker of a smile was no match for Graham’s unwavering grin.
“Well, goodnight,” he said.
“Goodnight.”
His brows furrowed at her frozen stance. He gestured toward the door. “Aren’t you goin’ inside?”
“Oh—I thought I might stay here and gaze at the stars for a while longer.”
He looked up at the sky and shrugged before smiling again and taking the street back to the forest.
Serah rubbed the chill from her arms and exhaled as he walked away. She approached the door and glanced over her shoulder, squinting for the blue light in the distance.
Graham’s right, it has to get better. The apprenticeship begins in two weeks. I’ll have a new home. But I am no longer welcome here at this one.
She reached out and traced her finger along the letter K, the only symbol etched into the family’s nameplate—nailed to a door that she hadn’t entered in days.
Chapter 4
Serah turned from the door and stepped lightly around the side of the house. Windows with no glass were tucked behind shutters. The night’s chill carried the heavy scent of pine.
Safe beneath the shadows of her parents’ backyard, Serah sat with her shoulders pressed against the outside wall. She loosened her braids and combed fingers through her hair. Locks of chestnut fell across her back and shoulders, surrounding her in warmth.
She closed her eyes. If she imagined hard enough, she could feel heat from the cooking fire on the wall’s other side. Crowns of pine trees framed by the moon smiled down at her as she fell asleep.
The next morning, the shutters above Serah’s head creaked open and unleashed a cloud of smoke. Tangs of grease and toast filled the air and jolted her awake. She covered her lips to stifle an intake of breath, pressed her back and shoulders hard against the wall, then pulled her legs in close to her chest.
“This. Pan. Is. Worthless.” The female voice stung Serah’s eardrums more than the clash of metal hitting metal.
Warmth Serah had imagined the night before seeped into her stiffened shoulders, which would have helped her relax—had it not been for her mother’s screaming.
“Ruined. For the birds! All of it.” The banging and clanking continued.
Steaming shapeless lumps flew through the smoke and landed at Serah’s feet. The nearest lump crunched and flaked apart when she nudged it with a toe. Hands pressed against her lips more urgently as her insides shook with laughter. With her front teeth digging into the back of her lip, Serah smiled. She picked up one of the lumps and brought it to her mouth.
Slightly acrid, but with a buttery crisp, the morsel melted onto Serah’s tongue as she chewed. Biscuits. She reached for another, hesitating before taking a bite. A moment later she’d gathered all of the biscuits in the folds of her apron.
Her gaze shifted between the window and a pine tree that loomed over the yard. She waited, her legs ready to spring forward as soon as there was enough yelling to mask her footsteps.
But, instead, her father’s low voice sounded through the window. “Breakfast is much improved since yesterday, Golda. Your cooking will get better now that Serah’s no longer here to manage.”
“That name is never to be uttered in this house. Not until she’s earned it!”
“Golda.”
Serah smiled at the gentleness in her father’s rebuke. She pictured him, with a napkin wrapped around his neck, smothering extra jam on one or two biscuits that had escaped the inferno. Mother always holds the skillet too close to the flame of the cooking fire. Her thought barely had a chance to fade before more smoke and screaming poured out the window.
“If I find her within a foot of this house before then, I’ll—”
Serah didn’t stay to hear the rest. Her feet drummed against the grass. Her breath released in light gasps when she reached the hollow of the towering pine. Sunlight filtered through dewdrops on the tree’s boughs, casting awkward rainbows across a floor of dirt and browned needles.
Her fingers trembled as she untied her apron and spread it on the ground. Soot from the biscuits smeared across the fabric. Her lips puckered and jaw clenched as she swallowed her breakfast, which smelled and tasted of ash. Thirst returned as violently as it had in the forest.
She held back a bough and peeked outside. The smoke from the kitchen window had cleared, and the yard was empty. A clear path spread out between the pine tree and the river at the opposite end of the house.
Serah scooped up her apron and headscarf. She crept to the river, not stopping until she untied her shoes at the riverbank. After another glance at the house, she stepped onto a rock and dipped her feet into the cool running water. She allowed herself a moment of calm before bending down to scrub the tears from her headscarf and soot from the apron.
She’d nearly finished when the front door to the house slammed shut. Her shoulders jerked backward. Without chancing a breath, she wrung the wetness from her laundry—glaring at the drops to be more quiet as they hit the river’s surface—and stepped onto the grass. After a grab for her shoes, she backed away until she was tucked behind a tree.
A low chuckle reminded her lungs to start working again. Serah almost smiled. She poked her head out from her hiding place. Her heart pounded in anticipation of seeing her father, Grendel Kettel, on his way across the bridge to the farmlands.
His clothes were plain, and his straw hat cast a shadow where he knelt before the stream. A meaty hand rubbed the circles beneath his eyes before covering two of the three wells. He slapped his palm against his knee. “Just the way I taught her,” he murmured.
Grendel’s reflection smiled back at him from the water. His brows pinched together as he turned away, allowing a glimpse of tears in his eyes. He rose from the spot and spoke up at the sky, “There’s nothing here for you, child. You must find something better.”
Serah’s fingernails dug into the tree’s bark. Her chest expanded, certain her father understood her message: goodbye and thank you.
His footsteps had long faded before Serah peeled herself from where she stood. After drinking from the wells, she returned to the hollow beneath the pine. She hung her apron and headscarf across one of the tree’s inner boughs and waited for them to dry. Seated on a bed of pine needles, she squeezed her knees tightly to her chest.
There, she waited until the next morning’s bread flew out the window.
Chapter 5
The remainder of the two weeks passed slowly. Serah hid in the hollow during the day and slept there at night. Each morning she snuck out to gather burnt breakfast scraps, wash in the river, and drink from the wells. But her mother’s cooking must have improved during the last few days, at least that’s what Serah suspected when smoke and bread stopped pouring out the window.
Forced to find elderberries for food, she’d thinned and weakened by the time she had to walk back to Machin’s cottage. Yet, she woke that morning with a heart full of hope.
Her spirits stayed high until she came upon Graham’s empty hammock in the forest. Her heart sank slightly, knowing she would accept a position that may have been intended for him. But he’s still so young, and I need this opportunity. I have nothing else. She looked up at the sky and wished to calm the chaos of life by becoming Machin's next apprentice.
Serah heard music long before she reached the cottage.
Roots and weeds sat in piles, drying in the sun.
The porch’s wooden planks shined beneath suspended clouds of dust. The music grew louder, accompanied by a rhythmic swishing sound.
A woman with a face as round as the full moon danced across the porch, trailing a broo
m behind her. The hem of her dress dragged across the planks and lifted more dust into the air.
Serah twisted at her apron. “Hello?”
The woman paused mid-swish and turned around. Her blue eyes widened and sparkled. “Goodness,” she said. “You’ve arrived earlier than expected.”
“I’m sorry—” Serah hesitated, ready to spin in the other direction. “Should I come back later?”
“That would be a tremendous waste of time. Just because I’m not ready, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be.” Her voice tinkled with laughter. “I am happy to make your acquaintance, Serah Kettel.”
Serah returned the greeting with an awkward smile. “Are you an apprentice too?” Is he training more than one of us?
“No, I’m Gelsey.” Dimples accented a girlish grin, but her eyes held a wisdom that couldn’t be placed. She winked. “Machin hasn’t told you about me?”
A blush tinged Serah’s cheeks as she shook her head.
“Well, that’s neither hither nor thither.” Gelsey laughed. “I’d be the best known cook and housekeeper on this side of Havenbrim, if only he’d let me clean those lanterns. But I suppose that’s why you’re here.”
She squinted, her gaze darting across Serah’s dress and resting on her apron, stained purple from gathering elderberries. “Let’s get you set up inside.”
Serah smiled at the doorplate, now straightened and properly nailed to the door. Her mouth popped open as she scanned the words. Beneath Master Machin, a new title was etched into the plate: Apprentice Kettel.
The door opened, giving way to streams of light. Lanterns filled the room—lanterns Serah had dreamed about while hiding in the hollow, hoping they’d been real.
“Machin won’t be back until later this evening,” said Gelsey. “But you’re here in time for mid-meal. You may join me, if you like.”
Without waiting for an answer, Gelsey tucked her broom in a corner, pulled Serah toward a table, and asked her to sit. Serah’s mouth watered at the smell of food before she saw it. Gelsey laid out plates that held slabs of cheese and meat, fluffy loaves of bread, and fig cakes. A basket of pears sat at the far end of the table. The hunger pangs she’d grown used to started twisting all over again.
“Enjoy as much as you like,” said Gelsey. She broke the end of a fig cake and nibbled at it. Her lips puckered the more she chewed. After sneaking another glance at Serah’s dress and apron, she openly frowned. “Please don’t find me rude, but I must excuse myself.”
“I don’t mind. Thank you for mid-meal,” mumbled Serah, her mouth stuffed with cured ham. Remembering her manners, she covered her lips and swallowed. “Will you be coming back?”
“Yes, I’ll only be a moment. I have a present for you, something to make you feel at home here at the cottage.”
Serah half-smiled and half-cringed as Gelsey hurried through a door. A present? Home? Her mind struggled to process what the woman had meant. Unable to stop thinking about the “home” she’d left behind, she turned back to the food. A gurgling from her stomach helped her decide against a second slice of the rich meat. She tore a bite-sized portion of fig cake instead. As she chewed, she wondered how the cake’s sweetness and chewy texture could have possibly made Gelsey’s lips pucker. A line of worry creased the space between her brows.
Her forehead relaxed at the popping and hissing of water. She smiled in the direction of where Gelsey had disappeared. Maybe she’s making barley tea, thought Serah, suddenly thirsty. She sank into the bench and absorbed the warmth and glow of the lanterns.
Most of Machin’s furnishings, including the floors, walls, and doors, were made of wood, so much so that the interior of the cottage had a spicy, earthy scent. I hope none of those lanterns ever catches fire, Serah mused. Though, there’s something strange about that white light. It’s unlike the orange-yellow flame I’m used to—
“And now for the surprise,” trilled Gelsey. She entered the room with a pronounced swish of her dress, her arms tucked behind her back. “Are you ready, Serah Kettel?”
Serah smiled.
With another swishing motion, Gelsey shook a bundle in front of her. Ruffles of ice-blue fabric rolled to the floor. “The color has faded and the dress has been mended once or twice, but it still has some wear left.”
“Thank you,” Serah whispered. She looked down at her own dress and frowned. “I love it.”
“You may try it on now. I’ll start tea while you’re busy with that.”
At the girl’s questioning look, Gelsey added, “I’ve drawn a hot water bath for you in the next room. Go on. Machin will be home this evening. I expect he’ll want to get started right away.”
Serah’s eyes filled with moisture. She hurried away before tears flowed down her cheeks.
She returned twenty minutes later with her chin and cheeks rosy from scrubbing. Her long, dark hair was plaited and twisted in a bun on top of her head. The dress was a reasonable fit, though it was longer than Serah was used to and didn’t have an apron.
She smoothed her fingers across the lacing of the collar. “What do you think?”
Gelsey nodded approvingly at the transformation. “That certainly is an improvement. How do you feel?”
“Much better. This is far more appropriate for meeting with Master Machin. Thank you, Gelsey!”
“You’re welcome. Now, sit and drink.”
Serah caught the teacup and saucer Gelsey slid across the table. She sipped and sighed, savoring the sweetness of honey blended with the barley’s nutty flavor.
Gelsey smiled beneath creased brows. “Have you had enough to eat?”
“Yes, I should probably take it easy.” Serah lightly rubbed her still-gurgling stomach. “I’m not used to so much food at once.”
“But this was no more than bread and meat, and a little bit of fig cake. Drat that Machin. Had I known beforehand, I could have made you what you’re used to. What is it that you eat?”
With great difficulty, Serah swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’ll eat anything, honestly. It’s just that, for the past few days, all I’ve had were berries.”
Color drained from Gelsey’s face. “Only berries?”
Serah’s cheeks burned, but something in Gelsey’s eyes made her forget her pride. She sighed. Over sips of tea, she explained how she’d survived the past couple weeks.
Gelsey jutted her chin as she listened. She leaned forward on her elbows. “Why were you unwelcome in your own home?”
“Mother isn’t happy with her marriage to Father. They were in love once, I think. She was born in a rich family who disowned her after she married him, a farm laborer. She groomed me as if I were the key to being reaccepted by her family. She was unskilled in cooking and cleaning, but she taught me to read and write, explaining that this would help me find a rich husband.”
Serah’s lip quivered. “And then, on my fifteenth birthday, she bought me a dress. Father brought home a pheasant and a basket of vegetables. They asked me to prepare dinner for a special guest and told me I should wear my new dress. Mother wore the glass earrings and pendant she’d worn the day she married Father.”
“Who was the guest?” Gelsey’s eyes were opened wide. Lantern light flickered in her eyes.
“A suitor—a man from Mother’s hometown, with an offer of marriage…to me.” She lowered her gaze to her teacup and swished the dregs. “His cuff links shone gold. His words were intelligent and kind. But he was as old as Mother, and I refused the proposal.”
Gelsey squeezed her hands together and frowned.
“After dinner, Mother ordered me out of the house for having ruined our family’s future.” Her future.
Tears filled Serah’s eyes. “Had I known what was going on, I would have at least considered it—I could have asked the man to give me time to prepare a proper answer. But it was a surprise, and now it’s too late.”
“And you’re never to return to your family?”
“Not unless I find another way to earn their acceptance, w
hich I expect means lots of coin or an affluent husband.”
“Surely your father still loves you.”
“Yes, but he also loves her, and he is kind. He knows I can take care of myself, whereas she cannot. And, so, here I am.”
“I wish you’d have explained the situation to Machin during your interview.” Gelsey scrunched up her face, and then seemed to think better of it. After a relaxed shrug, she smiled. “Perhaps all worked out for the best, seeing as it gave Machin time to prepare for you, too.”
Chapter 6
Serah blinked against the drooping of her eyelids. Warmth from the teacup cradled between her hands made it difficult not to yawn. Light from the lanterns intermittently swelled and faded. She’d almost given in to sleep when the white glow flickered and brightened.
The door groaned as it opened, inch by inch. A man carried the scent of the outdoors and the evening’s chill inside with him. Serah stood from her seat and poked her head through the archway, noting the goggles wrapped around his eyes. He tied a fist-sized pouch to his belt before warming his hands at the furnace.
“Good to see you have arrived, Serah Kettel.” He turned to face her. “Are you ready to begin?”
Serah shook the tension from her fingers and lifted her head to meet his gaze. Her heart pounded against her ribs. “Yes, Master Machin.”
His lips stretched across a set of graying but perfectly intact teeth. He hung his coat on a peg before motioning for Serah to follow. She looked back at Gelsey, who issued an encouraging nod.
Serah squared her shoulders and followed, her steps ceasing where Machin stopped before a table filled with globes of glass. He’d turned his attention to the ceiling. Wisps of gray hair brushed the back of his shirt collar as he considered the lanterns above him. He adjusted his goggles and focused magnified eyes on her.
“Most of these,” he said, pointing to the glass globes, “will be framed and sold by the shopkeeper in town. New owners will light the globes with candles or fill them with wicks and oil.”
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