Jamie spilled the dried lavender.
It wasn't even a big spill—just a careless tilt of the jar while she was reaching for the scale—but the purple buds scattered across the counter like bruises. A few bounced, rolled, and dropped to the floor with soft little taps.
She stared at them for half a second, then crouched to scoop them back up with her hands.
"Don't," Beth snapped from behind the counter. "You'll mix it with dust."
Jamie froze, then slowly straightened, rubbing her palms on her trousers. She hadn't meant to mess it up. She really hadn't. But her head felt full, like someone had stuffed wool behind her eyes. She'd been counting wrong for a while now. Mixing labels. Forgetting where things went even though she'd handled them before.
Beth sighed—the long, tired kind—and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"That's the third time," she said. "You dropped the sage earlier, and before that you nearly gave Mrs. Holn the wrong tincture."
Jamie opened her mouth. Closed it again.
"I said I was sorry."
Beth looked at her then, really looked, sharp eyes taking in the stiff set of her shoulders, the way she wasn't bouncing on her heels like usual.
"If you're gonna keep screwing up," Beth said, voice flat, "you might as well go home."
Jamie blinked.
Beth waved a hand. "I'll finish up. Go. Before you break something expensive."
The words stung more than Jamie expected. She nodded once, quick and stiff, grabbed her coat from the peg by the door, and stalked out without another word.
The bell over the shop door jingled too loudly behind her.
Outside, the winter air slapped her cheeks, sharp and clean. She shoved her hands into her pockets and walked fast, boots crunching over frost-dusted stone. Her jaw was tight. She told herself she didn't care. Beth was grumpy all the time anyway. Didn't mean anything.
Still.
Elias had gone home without her.
That was the part that really annoyed her.
She kicked a pebble into the street and watched it skitter away. As she did, a picture flickered across her mind—unwanted, sudden.
Elara walking beside Elias.
White cloak. Pale hair catching the light. Elias looking up at her, listening. The way she'd leaned down, the way her hand had rested warm and sure on his shoulder.
The image sent a small, sharp jolt through Jamie's chest.
She slowed.
For just a second, she remembered a voice she barely knew. A warmth she'd never really had. A mother-shaped absence that had never hurt before because she hadn't known to miss it.
She swallowed.
'Must be nice.' Then, stubbornly, 'Doesn't change anything.'
She squared her shoulders. Her papa was the best. Everyone knew that. He worked himself raw, came home tired but smiling, made sure she ate, made sure she laughed. She didn't need anything else.
She walked faster, like she could outrun the thought.
She nearly collided with Lyle at the corner.
"Whoa—easy there," he said, stepping back with a grin.
"You charging into battle or something?"
Jamie scowled up at him. "Watch where you're going."
Lyle blinked, surprised, then laughed.
"Where are you coming from in such a rush?''
"Got done early," she said.
"Heading home."
Lyle blinked.
"Wow, I didn't expect that."
He fell into step beside her without asking.
They walked for a moment in companionable silence, boots in sync. Then Lyle tilted his head, smirking.
"So," he said, "what does a scrawny brat like you know about work anyway?"
Jamie didn't answer. She kicked him hard in the shin.
"Ow—!" He hopped, then laughed again, rubbing his leg.
"No need to be mean."
She shrugged. "You started it."
"Fair," he admitted.
They turned onto a narrower street, where smoke curled from chimneys and the smell of baked bread hung thick in the air.
"What are you still doing around?" Jamie asked. "Thought you'd be gone by now."
Lyle's grin dimmed, just a touch.
"Still looking for my gramps," he said. "Figure I'll wait out the winter."
"How're you gonna survive that?"
"Oh, you wanna know huh?Guess."
"Don't wanna."
"Eh, you're no fun. I found work," he said easily.
"Jewelry shop near the west market."
She glanced at him. "Really?"
"Really."
He hesitated, then added casually, "You haven't seen anything about the old man, have you?"
Jamie turned to face him.
"Why are you asking me?"
Lyle shrugged.
"We're friends, aren't we? Thought you'd help me look."
She didn't answer.
Instead, her gaze drifted to a vendor ahead, selling skewered meat and fried dough. Her stomach growled. She walked over and signalled the vendor that she wanted some
Behind her, Lyle sighed and followed.
"You see anything strange lately?" he pressed. "In the forest, maybe?"
Jamie took a bite, chewing slowly. She turned and walked away again.
Lyle groaned, then grunted and paid for his own food before hurrying to catch up.
"I'm serious," he said. "You hear rumors. People talk. Especially kids."
She ignored him.
He kept going.
"Any weird places? Old paths? Abandoned clearings?"
Jamie thought about dinner. Thought about whether Papa would already be home. Thought about the soup from last night and whether there was any left.
Then Lyle said, "What about the Iron Forest?"
She swallowed mid-bite.
Her jaw tightened.
"Why are you so pushy?" she asked flatly.
He frowned. "It's my gramps. Of course I'm worried."
"If you're worried," Jamie said, "go look yourself."
"I would," he replied quickly, "but work's been rough. Out before sunrise, back after dark."
"That sounds like a shallow excuse," she shot back.
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
Then said, "I know you went to the forest recently. So tell me what you saw."
Jamie stopped again.
She turned her head just enough to look at him from the corner of her eye. "How do you know that," she asked, "if you've been so busy?"
Lyle froze.
For a heartbeat, his easy posture cracked. His smile slipped, just a little.
He didn't answer.
Jamie watched him, eyes narrowing.
Inside, something clicked.
Despite everything, she thought, he's still obvious.
As expected of my aunt's offspring, Lyle thought grimly, scrambling for words.
Just then, Jamie's gaze lifted past him.
"Papa!" she called, waving.
Her father was walking down the street with Lord Alaric himself. Jamie broke into a jog, excitement cutting through her irritation.
Behind her, Lyle stiffened.
"Oh—look at the time," he said quickly. "I've gotta get back to my shift. See you around, yeah?"
Before he could turn away, Jamie glanced back.
"You've got something on your face," she said, gesturing at her upper lip.
He frowned and touched it instinctively.
Jamie grinned faintly and ran toward her father.
As she did, her thoughts churned.
Suspicious, she decided.
Maybe that was why Elias hadn't told him anything. Maybe Elias had seen it too.
She hugged her father's side, still chewing, and waved at Lord Alaric.
As they walked, her mind drifted back to the forest. To the broken house. To the strange old man.
Why was everyone so interested in him?
She slowed, then stopped.
"I'm gonna go back," she blurted.
Her father blinked. "Back where?"
"I forgot something," she lied easily. "Be right back."
Before he could protest, she darted off, turning down an alley that led toward the outer paths.
She wondered if the old man was still there. If he'd rebuilt anything. How long someone could live alone like that.
"How long has he been in the forest," she muttered aloud, "and… did he ever meet Baba Yaga?"
"Did you say something?" Roric asked sharply.
Jamie jumped. "Nope. Nothing."
She took another bite of her snack, eyes forward, pretending not to notice the sudden tension in the air.
Behind them, out of sight, Lyle stood still.
His expression was cold now, eyes shadowed. He touched his upper lip again, where a thin line of white hair had begun to grow, barely visible against his skin.
The city moved on around him.
Unaware.