Clouds had built in the sky, and a sharp wind had picked up by the time Seraiah left the castle. There was still another hour or so before the market closed for the day. If she went straight home and started cooking, she could have dinner on the table by the time Papa and Sterling came home.

When she finally arrived home, the house was cold and empty. Seraiah didn’t bother taking off her cloak, but instead headed straight for the hearth. Fumbling with the steel and flint, it took a few tries before a spark finally caught. Blowing gently on it, she coaxed the flames to life.

She held out her hands and soaked in the delicious warmth. Slowly, she flexed her ink-stained fingers and hissed in pain as the feeling came back into them.

Once she was satisfied her fingers were working normally, she pulled her cloak off and hung it on a hook by the front door.

Then she got to work.

She hummed to herself and thought about what story she would tell Sterling about the strangers as she assembled the ingredients for dinner—a single carrot that had started to go soft, a few potatoes, a shriveled-looking onion, a handful of dried beans, and a small bundle of dried herbs. It was all that remained of their food stores. She hoped Papa had sold one of his pieces of furniture today, otherwise, they would have to go without until she received her wages three days from now.

Doing the best she could, Seraiah put the ingredients together to make a soup. She was leaning over the pot to give it a stir when someone knocked on the door.

Tap, tap, tap. Three light raps, soft but urgent.

Startled, the ladle slipped from her fingers and hit the floor. She cursed as she bent to pick it up. Whoever was at the door was lucky she hadn’t upended the entire thing. Dropping the ladle into a nearby bucket of water, she went to see who it could be at this hour.

“Nissa!” Freya’s youngest daughter stood on her doorstep, tears streaming down her face. “What in the world is the matter? Did something happen to your mother?” Seraiah pulled the little girl inside and shut the door.

Nissa’s whole body shook as she cried harder.

The feeling of unease she’d woken with that morning came creeping back, but Seraiah shoved it down. She refused to let it poison her thoughts. It was only a dream.

She bent down, so she was eye-level with the girl. “Take a breath. I’m sure whatever it was, it wasn’t that bad.”

Nissa only shook her head, pulling in gasping breaths.

“Do you think you could tell me what happened?” Seraiah asked, keeping her voice low and soothing.

Nissa continued sucking in ragged breaths, not saying anything.

“Did something happen to your family?”

The girl shook her head and pressed her lips together, looking like she was going to burst into tears again at any second.

“It’s Sterling,” Nissa finally blurted, and Seraiah’s stomach dropped.

She knew what the girl’s next words would be before Nissa even said them.

“She is missing.”

Seraiah’s hands fell from Nissa’s shoulders, and she stumbled back as the girl started sobbing again.

This was all her fault.

Grabbing her cloak off the hook, Seraiah dashed out the front door, leaving Nissa with her tears. The girl’s words echoed over and over in Seraiah’s head as she sprinted down the road toward the market.

She is missing. She is missing. She is missing.

The dark eyes from her dreams the night before came back to haunt her, taunting. She should have known. Hadn’t her dreams come true before? Why would this nightmare be any different?

There must have been something—some clue that she had missed—to stop this from happening. Seraiah tried to recall what she and Sterling had spoken about that morning as she rushed to get ready. Her sister had helped to braid her hair and asked what Seraiah wanted for her upcoming birthday. Sterling had mentioned baking a cake, and Seraiah had teased her about her kitchen skills. They’d danced around the topic of her dreams—Sterling chose to ignore them and believe they had no meaning.

Nothing had been out of the ordinary.

Seraiah’s lungs burned as she pushed herself to go faster. The temperature had plummeted, and the air had taken on that telltale smell.

It would snow again soon.

Finally, the market stalls came into sight. The shadows cast by the sun’s fading rays gave them an eerie air that wasn’t there during the day. 

Seraiah paused just inside her father’s stall, trying to catch her breath.

Looking around, she didn’t see her father anywhere. Their old mule, Daisy, was still tied to the post at the back, and none of the furniture had been loaded into the wagon for the night.

“Seraiah, honey, over here,” Nissa’s mother, Freya, called out, waving to Seraiah from her own stall. It looked like Freya had packed up all of her wares for the night already.

Seraiah picked her way through her father’s stall over to Freya, still trying to catch her breath from her mad-dash.

“I waited to make sure Nissa delivered her message. I’m terribly sorry.” Freya clasped Seraiah’s arm in what was probably supposed to be a comforting manner.

“Where is my father?” Seraiah scanned the market again, but still didn’t see him.

“He said he was going to do another sweep of the area to see if he could find anything.” Freya leaned in closer. “I don’t think he will. Faeries are such sneaky creatures.”

Seraiah’s eyes snapped back to Freya. “Excuse me?”

“You know. Faeries? Changelings? Surely you have heard of them?”

She had, but she’d assumed it was nothing more than a children’s story. She hadn’t realized people believed they existed.

“The faeries steal children away and sometimes replace them with one of their own.”

“My sister is fifteen. She isn’t a child.”

“I’ve heard stories of full-grown adults being taken before. They vanish without a trace, just like your sister. It can’t be a coincidence those strangers arrived and now this happened.”

Seraiah shook her head, her brain struggling to follow the conversation.

She is missing. She is missing. She is missing.

The words wouldn’t stop repeating.

“Seraiah?” Freya gave her arm a little shake, and Seraiah focused back on the woman.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.”

“I asked if you would like me to wait with you until your father gets back.”

“No, no, that’s fine. I’m sure I will be all right on my own.”

“Yes, I doubt the wicked creatures will be back tonight.” Freya pulled her cloak around herself and turned to leave. “Goodnight, Seraiah. Be safe.”

“Goodnight,” she echoed, already turning away to scan the market again.

Still no sign of Papa.

It wouldn’t hurt to do some searching of her own, she decided. It would only be a matter of minutes before the light completely disappeared. She stepped out into the aisle and set off.

All the stalls were empty for the night, with everyone having gone home to their families by now. Seraiah scanned back and forth as she walked, not entirely sure what she was looking for. She was about to turn the corner to go up the next aisle when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

She spun around, searching the area behind her.

Was someone following her?

“Hello?” she called out tentatively, her heart beating fast in her chest.

No one answered.

She thought again of the strangers she’d seen this morning and the peculiar feeling she’d had when she’d made eye contact with the woman. What if Freya was right about them?

Another gust of wind blew through the empty market, and Seraiah found the source of movement. It was only a bit of an old tarp left behind, flapping in the wind.

She turned back to continue her search and slammed directly into someone.

They grabbed her arms to steady her, so she wouldn’t fall on her backside.

“What are you doing here, Seraiah?” Papa asked. “You should be home.”

Papa. It was only Papa.

“Freya sent Nissa to the house. She told me what happened, and I came as quick as I could to help look. Have you found anything?”

“Nothing. It’s like she disappeared into thin air. She is probably far from here already.”

“Do you think something—I mean, someone—took her?”

Papa didn’t answer, staring at some distant point over her head.

“There has to be some kind of trail, right?” Even Seraiah could hear the high-pitched, frantic tone her voice had taken on. “We need to go after her before the snow falls.”

“No,” he said, still not meeting her eyes. “We’re going home. There is nothing to be done now.” Papa stepped around her and strode back toward his stall, leaving Seraiah to stand there in shock.

Sterling may not be his daughter by blood, but she knew Papa loved his adopted daughter—or at least she thought he had.

She whirled around and started after him. His long strides carried him back to the stall well before her, and he immediately began loading up the wagon.

“Do you think the faeries took her?” Seraiah asked as she entered the stall. “Is that why you won’t look for her?”

He paused. “Faeries? Who told you that nonsense?”

“Freya. She said she thought it was faeries, and that she had heard stories of them taking people before.” Seraiah left out the part about the strangers.

Papa shook his head in disgust. “Forget what that woman said. She doesn’t know anything. Go home before it snows. There is nothing to be done, and that’s final.”

He turned his back on her, continuing to load the wagon. He didn’t see the first tears that slipped down his older daughter’s face and the look in her eyes as Seraiah turned toward home.