Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 63709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“The first people to get sick,” I say. “How are they doing now? Have you heard anything?”
She shrugs. “I need to ask around. I’ve been here all morning, as you have.” She thinks for a moment. “On the other hand, that might be good news. I’m pretty sure that, if people had started dying already, I would have found out about it.”
I slide the package of cakes into the pocket of my cloak. “Thanks for these.” Leelah holds out her hand for payment and I drop the coins into her palm. “Stay safe.”
“You too,” she says. “Tell Matron I wish her good health.”
“I will.”
In the short time I was talking to Leelah, the market drained almost empty of people. Those who remain are huddled together, whispering about more people taking ill. The knot of anxiety in my chest grows as I clock the stricken, frightened faces.
I increase my pace, my sense of dread growing with every step. By the time I get home, I don’t care that I’m sweaty. I drop the baskets on the stoop and burst through the front door.
“Ma?” I hold my breath so I can hear her reply.
There is none. She’s not downstairs. But maybe everything’s okay. Maybe she’s just sleeping.
With my heart thudding in my ears, I race up to her bedroom. The door is ajar. Her room is dark and stuffy, the curtains drawn.
“Rose?” she croaks. She sounds bad—even worse than this morning.
With shaking hands, I pull the curtains back to let in some light. Ma is huddled in the center of the bed, under a pile of quilts.
My relief to find her there is instantly dashed when I see the state she’s in. Taking a step closer, I peer at her face and hands.
My heart stops.
Her skin is flushed, her chest rising and falling too rapidly. “Rose,” she whispers, and I take another step towards her. “No, child, stay aw—” She breaks into a wheezing cough, unable to finish her sentence.
When she turns her head to cover her mouth, I see it: the bright scarlet blotch on her otherwise mauve cheekbone. “Oh, fuck.”
I’m dashing down the lane, my cloak flapping behind me. I don’t bother with my hood. Leelah’s cottage is closer to the village than ours, further away from the river. I make a beeline to her front door. If she’s not home, I’ll head back to the market. I have to do something.
I left Ma as comfortable as possible. I made her tea, and brought up every herbal salve and tincture I thought might help. She insisted I put them beside her bed, and then ordered me to leave and bar her bedroom door. Downstairs, I paced until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
Ever since I woke up on this godforsaken planet, Ma has been there for me. She’s clothed me, fed me, promised to help me get home. I have to help her. She has to get better. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.
I’m hot and flustered by the time I reach Leelah’s cottage. Vines have sprouted up in her garden, too, covering her stoop and latticing up her door. What is it with these things? Does no one here own a weed-whacker? I push them out of the way so I can pound on the door. Something crunches underfoot—another greeny-black shoot, covered in thorns.
A growl behind me makes me jump.
I whirl around. An Alpha is standing at Leelah’s gate, glowering at me. He’s the same one who visited Leelah’s booth in the market.
“It’s forbidden to pluck a moonflower,” he booms. I can understand him. My translator chip must be getting better at picking up Alpha speech. Or I’m getting used to it.
“I wasn’t picking flowers.” I was kicking away the thorns.
“The curse has fallen on this house.” He eyeballs me as if looking for any signs of a rash.
I raise my chin, my cheeks burning, but not with embarrassment. With rage. “I need to speak to Leelah.”
The Alpha scowls down at me. I guess he isn’t used to peasants refusing orders. When your muscles are as big as bowling balls, you probably don’t get much backtalk. “You need to leave.”
The wind whips around the corner of the cottage, catching my cloak and making it swirl around me.
The guard inhales, his eyelids fluttering. He looks as though he’s scented something delicious. A sigh creaks out of him.
I duck my head to sniff the corner of my cloak. I smell like I’ve rolled around in a potent body spray, except I haven’t. The scent is emanating from my pores.
The soldier is still looming over me. His pupils are blown, turning his irises black.
I don't have a good feeling about this.
The Alpha sways, taking a step towards me.
“Byrol!” another soldier calls out.
The Alpha named Byrol blinks and straightens. He shakes his head a little. “Go home, little one, and pray the curse doesn’t find you.”