Windís agreed to take us in two days. I had to hurry to notify the storekeeper of my order so he could get it ready in time before our departure. Lina and I took no more than a small suitcase each, light enough to carry ourselves. It would not be a long journey, luckily we did not need to take much with us. I was not planning on letting my father keep us in Treringham for longer than necessary, though I doubted he did not share this sentiment, too. As we packed our clothes, Regwulf would drift from my bedroom door to Lina’s, hunched in the opening as she watched us, fidgeting. It struck me that I never really knew what she would do when we were both gone. I sat on my heels and looked up at her, thinking.

“Do you want some books for the time we’re gone?” I asked. I did not know if she liked to read, but I couldn't fathom what else there would be to do for her in this dark, creaking house. She looked at me, surprised, before looking down at her hands, frowning. Following her gaze, I realised she was looking at her nails, long and sharp.

“I don’t want to damage your books…”

It came out a weak, raspy croak. I thought about how flipping thin pages would indeed be a hard task for her.

“I can buy you some second-hand ones, if you’d like. You wouldn’t have to worry about ripping anything. I can look out for the ones with thicker pages, to ease your nerves,” I said, before closing the lid of the suitcase in front of me. My feet were starting to hurt, so I got up, feeling my bones creak. The cold wasn’t favourable to my ageing body. An eager look passed through Regwulf’s dark eyes, and she stopped fidgeting, seeming to physically grow in size at that, though the shadows, loyal inhabitants of the house as they were, made it hard to make out truths and untruths of the eye.

“Can you get that book about the leaf children?” she asked.

“The leaf children?”

I realised as I asked the question what book she was talking about. It was one of Lina’s favourites, and when she first read it she couldn’t stop talking about it over dinner for the next week or so.

“Oh, ‘Paradise Beyond The Rainbow Tree’? I can look if they sell a copy. Anything else?”

Regwulf did not have to think long. 

“Something about the Penese Empire?” she asked, hopeful.

I suppressed a groan. 

“Not you, too.”

I ran my hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face. It fell back again immediately.

“Fine. I bet Lina set you up, didn’t she?” I asked.

“She didn’t,” Regwulf denied, shaking her head in stilted fashion.

“I just wanted to know more…”

I did not believe she was completely uninfluenced by the girl.

“Very well,” I said, dismissing my suspicion.

Lina appeared in the hallway behind Regwulf, then, her eyes meeting mine over Regwulf’s shoulder. She looked bright and clear. Full of life. The contrast of her and Regwulf was almost comical.

“Are you done?” I asked her. Regwulf’s head turned to look at Lina, and I thought I could hear her neck groan like the wooden beams of the house. 

“Yes, I think so. Can you go over it to check?” Lina asked.

I nodded and Regwulf moved aside to make room for me to follow Lina. Her room smelled of incense: a soft scent of lavender and jasmine.

“Have you been praying?” I asked her as I walked inside.

“For safe travels,” she replied. I looked at the little altar in her room. It was spotless, the dust of the incense already having been cleared despite the scent still being strong.

Her suitcase’s contents were impeccable, with Lina having thought of even more than I had when packing my own things. One item was missing, however.

“Where are you keeping your money?” I asked the girl. 

“I was just going to clip the pouch to my dress,” she said.

I hummed. “Make sure you put it where your arm will be covering it. If someone touches it, you’ll know.”

She nodded, excited to finally be going out to the city, a real, proper city, again. One where you could be robbed within an eyeblink, if you didn’t keep your wits about you.

“Your suitcase looks fine, though if you do find yourself missing something we can always buy it or you can borrow mine where possible,” I said, looking at her for affirmation. It was gloomy outside, but the warm lamplight of her room’s lights flattered her features. With the dark blue of the outside beyond the windows as her background, she shone like a little candle.

“Okay,” she replied, shaking me out of my thoughts. I felt a presence looming behind me, before realising that Regwulf had followed us. I turned around, remembering that I’d forgotten to inform her.

“Regwulf, we will leave in two days. You’re sure you can manage?” I asked.

She nodded. “I’m sure.”

“I ordered your food, I should be able to pick it up overmorrow. Be sure to ration it out, though.”

I could not remember a time where Regwulf looked more confident.

“I got it, Herleva,” she said, leaving no room for discussion. It took me aback. Both of them had grown and changed, and I hadn’t even noticed, not really, up until this point.

“Very well,” I said, also turning back to Lina to check if everything truly was in order. Her self-assurance was different from Regwulf’s, more like a sprightly energy, but it was there nonetheless.

I nodded, more to myself than to the other two.

“I suppose we’re all set for now, then. I’ll likely need your help with the pickup when the time’s there, Lina,” I said to the girl, leaving after hearing a noise of assent from her direction. I hoped for everything to go smoothly, though not much hope was needed for such a thing; we would merely be travelling from one place to another in the same country. Crossing borders is more difficult. I retreated to my study, and we spent the next two days with our heads filled with the future prospects of journey, although Lina’s head had the added thoughts of Anwin, whom she met up with again the day before our departure.

•

He greeted me without even turning his head to see who was standing behind him.

“Hello, sweet daughter of mine.”

The familiar timbre of his voice, deceptively warm like wood pulled me back into being the little girl I was, long before Brasboliton. Before Linafríð.

I did not want to be small in front of this man, so I stood straight and shooed her off.

“Don’t act mushy,” I said, as I took a seat in front of him.

The frigid daylight streaming in from the window painted his face something frighteningly stern. He smiled without teeth.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“Make me a miracle, Herleva.”

My gaze flicked up to meet his.

“I can’t.”

He looked at me with an unreadable expression. His eyes dropped to the cup of tea in front of him.

“You’ve done it before. I think you can do it again,” he said.

I glared at him in warning. He remained unaffected. 

“I let you keep her, despite the fact that we couldn’t afford such a luxury back then. What makes you think we have more leeway now?”

A lump of coal, red-hot with anger, settled in my stomach.

“You ‘let me keep her’?” I repeated, my face tight. “You’re such a liar. You didn’t want to lose her either, don’t joke around.”

My father shrugged off my indignation. Resent filled my mouth. I spat it out.

“I hope all of Framplia drowns in that fucking flood. It’s a pathetic piece of land you reign over. Though calling it ‘land’ is generous, considering most of it is a rotting swamp by now, inhabited only by the corpses of your people.”

His face remained calm, only his eyebrow raised ever so slightly at my outburst.

“Easy now, child,” he said simply.

I felt eyes on me from other patrons of the little cafe, and as my face flushed I sat back, humiliated. He made me feel so small. In the time it took me to come back down from the mountain of anger he had taken a dainty sip of the tea and set the cup on its plate again, the clink of porcelain meeting porcelain the starting signal of the true conversation to be had.

“It’s not been a leisurely life, at home,” my father started. I swallowed a snide remark.

“You might not have been aware of it when you said it just now, but we are, as a matter of fact, drowning. The abundant casualties are very unfortunate,” he continued. I felt an expression of incredulity form on my face, but I managed to hold it back before his eyes met mine. I thought I was fooling myself when I saw genuine sadness there.

“The entire place needs a restructuring. We’ve been building new housing which can withstand the new circumstances, but it’s been costly. Resources and workforces are hard to come by, as you can probably imagine.”

I could definitely imagine it. I thought about his motive for telling me all this.

“So?” I asked, “You’ll be cutting me off?”

He was tapping the teacup handle with his forefinger. 

“Perhaps.”

“I’ll sell my body,” I said.

He feigned indifference at that, but the miniscule wince as I suggested it gave him away. I’d known him all my life. I knew when he was putting up a front. Once, when I was young, I kept track of it, and ended up very disillusioned to find that this was the case most of the time. My father was a weak man. 

“There’s enough people interested in me in Brasboliton with money. And that’s only taking into account the men.”

I felt it slip from my mouth before I could stop it, the little girl returning with vigour to boast to her daddy. It wasn’t true or untrue, necessarily. There were, in fact, enough people who would look at not only me, but Lina too, with the glint of attraction shining in their eyes like a trick of the light. I saw it many times, but that did not give me a valid reason to communicate this to my father, not to mention in such a crude fashion. I was simply feeling poisonous. 

My father looked at me, the dismay in his eyes obvious. “Forgive me, but I do not trust your taste in men, Herleva.”

His comment hit me like a foul wave hitting the hull of a boat during a bad storm. Any fight I had inside me leaked out with the impact.

“I can’t help you, papa,” I mumbled in defeat. I was nothing but a stupid child, undone so easily from womanhood by my father’s words. He laid his hand on mine, rubbing circles on the back of it.

“I know, darling. I know.” His voice was soft. I sought words, my head feeling blank.

“Lina- I don’t know if Lina can, either. I know you wouldn’t misuse her, but I don’t even think she’s capable of anything, to begin with.”

“Has she gotten attached yet?” he asked. His hand had stilled but hadn’t yet left mine, the warmth pleasantly combatting the cold from outside seeping in through the cafe’s windows.

“I think she’s beginning to. If she is like me, it’ll most likely already be too late for you to take her to Framplia.”

He nodded, slowly. His hand slid back over the table, and the cold took mine again.

“Is he a good man?”

I thought about the child with the incredibly blue eyes, face flushed from the cold as he stood there, on our doorstep, asking for Lina with a hopeful smile.

“He is a good boy,” I said. My father hummed and looked out the window at the ghostly white sky.

“She might not be like you, then.”

Despite the ache that brought me, I agreed with his sentiment.

“I hope not.”

A silence fell between us like a stone to the bottom of a lake. I thought of other ways the issue of the flood could be resolved, but came up blank. My father sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked old.

“I suppose this meeting can be considered a dud, then,” he said.

“I suppose so.”

He idly looked around, seemingly searching for someone.

“Where is Linafríð, by the way?” he asked.

“I never said I took her with me.”

“No, you didn’t, but I’ve raised you and watched you grow up. I know you would never leave that girl alone on that island, in a house all by herself,” he said. I felt uncomfortable with how true his words rang, and shifted in my chair.

“She stayed behind in the room,” I said.

“Didn’t want her to see me, did you?” he asked, though he was smiling as he did.

“No,” I replied, impassive.

“I suppose she wouldn’t want to go back to that little island if she were to bond with me,” my father mused.

“What makes you think she would? You’re not as charismatic as you think,” I bit back.

He laughed a little at that. The air was lighter, and I felt my shoulders relax.

“Well, I think I have to return to the construction projects now,” he said as he stood up, stretching. I rose from my chair too, not wanting to be looked down upon by him.

“Are you going to be staying here with her for longer? Take a bit of a holiday?” he asked.

“We’re going to Penksey. Request from Lina,” I said.

“Penksey? Your little bird wants to spread her wings,” he said. I ignored him. He took his pouch from his vest, fumbling with the coins inside.

“Well, have fun. I’m not cutting you off, so you shouldn’t be concerned in terms of funding Lina’s material desires,” he said at last, and he walked over to the waitress, saying goodbye to me with one simple wave of his hand. I looked at the small clock on the wall, and realised more time had passed than I thought. I did not want Lina to be left on her own for too long in our rented room, so I hurried out of the cafe, not bothering to look back at my father, back to the inn.