FREYA
I am still at my bedroom window turning the word over when Esme knocks.
"Luna." Esme's voice is soft through the door. "The boy is awake. The healer's word was true. He is asking for his supper."
Relief moves through me before anything else does, clean and simple, and I am almost grateful to it.
"Thank you, Esme."
I go down the hall to his room.
The door is open. The smell of Miriam's concoction is still heavy in the air, green and bitter and sharp, the window opened to the cold to let it out. Martin is sitting up in a clean nightshirt, his color back, his eyes clear, a wooden horse galloping across the blanket in his small fist.
He looks up when I come in and gives me the easy bright smile he has been giving me for a week.
"Aunty Luna. Mommy said I was sick but I am better
