Nell Larkspur's Arc

Chapter 22 of 23

Lena opened the door. Cold air pushed in. Two men in leather coats stood on the step with clubs at their belts. Behind them, Calloway Hild came up the cobbles at his own pace, silver hair combed flat, spectacles catching the lamp. He stopped at the threshold and looked past Lena to Nell on the couch. Nell stood. His arm still bled through the sleeve. The fox pressed to his shin, ears flat. He had no standing here. He was a half-fae from the tree line in a shop full of witnesses, and every word out of his mouth would be a rope around Lena's father, around Linny in the back room. He picked up the axe anyway. "Put that down," Hild said, pleasant. "Or don't. It makes my case cleaner." He stepped inside. His men followed. "Nell Larkspur. Your father was expelled from this village before you were born. You have returned. That is treason under the old writ. I will hang you from the square post by dusk." "But Nell was never expelled," Lena said. Flat. "There is no writ in the book for the unborn. I looked." Hild's mouth tightened for half a second. Then he smiled. "An oversight. I can write it now." "You can't," Lena said. “He saved us. He saved your people. Look out the window. The spirit protecting our village is his mother and if you banish him, surely her presence will follow. "I don't care what he did in the woods," Hild said. "The village will," Nell said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes,” Lena said with a pleasant smile. “Should I go tell them, or would you?” Hild went still. His eyes moved to the window, to the street, to the neighbors already gathered on the cobbles with baskets forgotten in their hands. He weighed it. Image was the only god the man knew. With a flash of a snarl, Hild turned on his heel and walked out into the square. He raised both hands. "Neighbors," he called, warm now, a governor's voice. "You have seen a strange sight this dawn. Let me name it plain. This young man stood between our children and the creatures of the wood. His mother's light held them at our fence. He is blessed. He is ours. He is why you slept in your beds." Silence stretched on the stones. Awkward and still. Stiff. Nell felt Lena's hand find his again in the doorway as the household held its breath. Then a woman with a basket clapped. A man near the well took it up. The cheer came ragged and then full, and it kept going. Hild turned back to the shop. He was still smiling. His eyes were not. He walked past Nell close enough for Nell to hear him. "You may think you’ve one today, Lockspur," Hild said, quiet. "but you will come to regret it. This is my town, and I won’t let you stain it." With that, he tipped his hat to Lena and left. The clapping went on outside. Moss appeared at the curtain, wide-eyed. Lena did not let go of Nell's hand.