Autumn had transformed Fellbrook into a collage of scarlet, gold, and umber. I was enjoying the scenery as I walked through town, a large basket cradled under one arm, collecting goods for Brother Clem.

  He was becoming notably frail in his old age, and the townsfolk regularly made sure his every need was met. And, since I liked to help the old cleric with apothecary work, it was my weekly task to bring deliveries down to his cottage.

  Probably due to the excitement for tonight’s Harvesttide festivities, today’s bounty was almost too much. By early afternoon I was inching along with a large heap of candles, vegetables, soaps, herbs, and baked goods precariously balanced in front of me.

  “Brin!”

  I looked up, which was a mistake. One booted foot hit an upturned root. I stumbled forwards with a yelp. My basket and its contents scattered across the grass.

  Royce came loping up. He wore a pale linen tunic. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face. A woodcutter’s axe was propped nearby, against a stack of split logs. Probably for the upcoming bonfire.

  “You okay? Anything injured?” He sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

  “Only my dignity,” I puffed, stooping to gather my fallen bounty. I shook one finger at him in mock-anger. “Your fault, you know.”

  He stooped, grinning, and helped recollect the contents of my basket. “Sorry. You’re gonna hate me even more in a minute.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Uh-oh… why?”

  Royce snickered and pointed to a bulging brown sack beside the woodpile.“Mom wanted Clem to have some stuff from the garden.” He laughed at the expression on my face. “I can carry it.”

  “Salt, I hope so! I wasn’t sure I’d make it there as is.”

  “She packed this for you, too.” A few steps later he had delved into the sack, then returned bearing a linen-wrapped bundle.

  My gift included a large butter-colored biscuit, a seedcake glazed with honey, and a fragrant red apple. I settled happily on a nearby patch of grass and asked Royce to thank his mother for me, then began munching on my impromptu lunch.

  He flopped down beside me, elbows propped beneath him and long legs stretched out. He produced another biscuit, somewhat squashed, from one pocket. He took a large bite.

  I couldn’t resist. Two fingers traced, and I murmured my very first rune as quietly as I could manage. I imagined the taste of lemons. A moment later, Royce’s face screwed up into a comical pucker.

  “Not funny!” he declared, smacking his lips together. Then his blue eyes glinted, and he snatched my biscuit away.

  “Hey!” I tried unsuccessfully to wrestle his arm back.

  He offered me the now-sour lump in his other hand. “Nuh-uh, magic lady, you can have this one.”

  I huffed a laugh and gave up on trying to pull his arm down. “You know I can just change them again, right? You can’t win, here.”

  He snorted. “I can if I eat them both. Texture’s still great.”

  “I’ll make them taste like fish,” I threatened.

  “I like fish.”

  “No, you don’t. You hate fish.”

  “I hate touching fish. Too slimy. But eating them? Nah, that’s fine.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, then it’ll be spoiled milk. And onions. And dung.”

  Royce’s broad shoulders shook with laughter. “Salt, alright, have mercy!” One tan hand stretched back out. “How about we each get one, you make them taste like bacon, and we call a truce?”

  I accepted my food and traced. “Ulen. Truce. Mine’s sausage, though.”

  He shook his head, sandy hair swaying in the cool air. “You’re insane.”

  I gave another exaggerated eye-roll and we munched in happy silence. After several minutes the clatter of a wooden ladder sounded from nearby. I glanced towards the Fellbrook inn.

  Nightmare’s End. Dellin Cole had renamed the establishment twenty years ago. Durst said that Fellbrook had briefly become a spring of trade and activity; paladins had come to scatter sacred silver seeds, and people had made pilgrimages from across the realm to rebuild the town and see the divine scar.

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  Then the witchwood had flourished, choking out the roads and wreathing Fellbrook in isolation. And so the Nightmare’s End had gradually become less of a waypoint for travelers and more of a local fest hall.

  Today the building was decorated in a slew of vibrantly colored ribbons; burnt oranges, rose reds, and cheerful golds. The front door was propped open. I could see Dellin Cole and his two sons moving tables and chairs around, doubtlessly clearing an area for tonight’s festivities. His wife, Miss Alaine, was climbing a ladder to hang strings of colorful beads along the windows. I smiled at the sight.

  “I’m taking Sevalla to the party tonight.”

  My smile froze.

  Royce and I had shared many stolen kisses and lingering looks as we flourished into adulthood. And then one day the realization hit me, quite like a hammer, that I loved my best friend like a brother… and nothing more. Telling him that had been an uncomfortable experience, to say the least, but I’d summoned my courage and done it.

  And now… well. We had a routine.

  Royce was very handsome. Most of the unpromised young women in town looked at him with obvious interest whenever we visited the inn for an evening meal. He would sometimes flirt back- and more later on, I was pretty sure, though that wasn’t a topic I ever broached- all dimples and blue eyes and broad shoulders. And then he would look at me after a young lady had walked away, with an expression that made my insides twist.

  I would always respond with bright enthusiasm, asking if he wanted me to head home early so he could turn his attention elsewhere. And my cheerful best friend would turn sullen.

  Sometimes the change in his demeanor would last for only seconds. Sometimes for days. But eventually my unassuming friend would return, with a warm smile and eyes that held no expectations, and things would go on as usual.

  Our routine.

  “That’s great.” I meant it. I didn’t know the miller’s daughter very well, but she was very pretty and she always seemed to have a smile on her face. “I hope you two have a nice time.”

  Sometimes I felt guilty during these moments. I knew how he felt about me. And yet here I was, day after day, tromping back into town to be an inescapable presence that he could hardly ignore.

  I hadn’t ever grown close to anyone else my own age. I hadn’t needed to. I had Royce, after all; Royce, with his infectious laughter and steadfast friendship.

  Royce, who was now looking at me in a way that made me want to turn and flee.

  I cleared my throat and hopped up. Errant crumbs fell from my frock. “I’d better get all this to Clem.” I piled the day’s bounty back onto my too-small basket, not meeting my friend’s eyes.

  He was quiet. Then one strong hand reached up and gently pried the basket from my fingers. I looked down, trying to keep my expression neutral.

  He offered me a lopsided grin. “Can I help?”

  I hesitated.

  As usual, Royce seemed to read into my silence all too well. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve said anything.”

  And just like that, my inside unclenched. His clear blue eyes asked for nothing but my company.

  “Alright. But only if you carry all the heavy stuff.”

  “That’s what I’m here for!”

  Clem’s cottage was nestled on the southeastern edge of town. We knocked, received no answer, and I gingerly prodded the front door open.

  “Clem? Brother Clem?” I poked my head inside. There was no response. I inched through the doorway, ushering Royce in behind me. “He naps a lot, these days,” I murmured as we crept into the small kitchen. Its two windows were open, letting in brisk autumn air and warm sunlight.

  “Lucky,” Royce chuckled, heaving the brown sack up into a countertop.

  We spent several minutes restocking the room’s cupboards. Once everything was in its place I dusted off my hands.

  I turned towards Royce and nearly jumped out of my skin. Clem was standing behind him, quiet as the grave. He was staring at me with wide, glassy eyes.

  “I think he died,” Clem whispered. His voice was hoarse.

  My heart skipped a beat. Clem shuffled forwards, face deathly pale. I reached out to take one of his hands. It felt like dry, brittle parchment. He was shaking terribly.

  “What? Who?” Royce’s eyes grew round.

  “It was like watching the sun go out. How can something like that die?” Clem’s voice broke.

  I looped my arm around one of his and ushered him towards a chair. My mind raced. No one in town is ill, or has been injured lately. At least, not that I know of…

  The cleric turned towards me, tears dripping down his cheeks. “Fia?”

  I stopped midstep and breathed a sigh of relief. This had happened a few times; not often, but enough to no longer be terribly alarming. I steadied myself and said in the calmest, most soothing voice I could manage, “It’s Brin, Brother Clem. Brin Damelle. Fia’s daughter. Do you remember me?”

  He peered up at me with clouded eyes. “Brin? Oh, I… yes. Yes. Fia’s daughter.” He looked around, blinking rapidly, as if he’d just woken from a deep sleep. “I’m sorry, dear girl. I must have… forgotten myself for a moment.” One trembling hand lifted to touch, seemingly in shock, the moisture on his cheeks.

  “It’s alright.” I hesitated, keeping one hand over his.

  Royce was staring at me, clearly at a loss.

  I winced. This was probably the first of Clem’s ‘confused moments,’ as the townsfolk gently called them, that my friend had seen. “He’ll be okay,” I mouthed.

  Royce crept forwards with his hands outstretched. “Can I, er, do anything?”

  Clem shuffled towards the kitchen chair, floorboards creaking beneath him. “Fia’s daughter. Fia’s…”

  I gnawed on my lower lip and, after a moment’s thought, grabbed a small black kettle from one of the cupboards. “I’ll make you some tea, okay?” He didn’t respond. “Were you sleeping, sir?” Perhaps he’d had a particularly vivid dream. His ‘confused moments’ didn’t usually last for longer than a minute or two, but he still seemed… off. Lost, almost.

  “Always.” Clem’s whisper was so soft that I barely heard it.

  Royce and I exchanged worried glances.

  “I woke up, once. Just for a moment. And then he…” his voice cracked again and he hid his face.

  I wrung my hands, wondering how I could possibly help. Royce paced for a moment, clearly unnerved by the old cleric’s behavior. Then he snatched the kettle away and hurried towards the fireplace.

  I grabbed one of Clem’s recipe books, for lack of a better idea; he always seemed more clear-headed when he had a task to focus on. “Brother Clem, do you think… um, could you help me mix a fever tonic?”

  He was quiet for a long, breathless moment. Then he rose, looking slightly dazed. “Is someone ill, Brin?”

  I glanced towards Royce, eyes wide with tentative hope. “Oh, n-no, just… with the weather getting colder I thought… it would be good to have some on hand, right?”

  Clem shuffled forwards. He began pulling herbs out of the cupboards. “Of course. Yes, of course. We’ll start with the soaking. Grab a few drops of rum from the pantry, would you?”

  “Yes, sir.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Our afternoon devolved into grinding, measuring, muddling, and mixing, until Clem and I- and Royce, who joined in with clearly feigned enthusiasm- had filled several glass jars with tonics. Clem became his normal self within a few minutes. Once the jars were filled he declared himself ‘old and entitled to a nap’ and retreated to his bedroom. I opted to stay, at least until sunset, in case he woke up distraught again.

  Royce helped me clean up the kitchen and then headed out into the chilly evening air.

  “Have fun tonight!” I called from the front door.

  “Be more fun if you were there!” He turned and winked.

  I just smiled. When dusk eventually fell and I shut the sleeping cleric’s door, distant music and dancing firelight were visible from Nightmare’s End. For a moment I considered going to join the doubtlessly merry townsfolk.

  But the nearby witchwood leaves were hissing, seemingly more restless than usual. And Royce’s blue eyes had been bright and unbothered and I wanted them to stay that way.

  So I ducked my head against the cold air and walked home through the trees, murmuring soothing words as they reached out for me.