Contents ( 41)
- CAST OF CHARACTERS
- ACT ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- ACT TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- ACT THREE
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ALSO BY NAFIZA AZAD
“I did not lie, child. You were a brownie. However, you are no longer one.”
“If not a brownie, what am I?”
“You will find out.”
“I want to know now.”
“It is not allowed.”
“Whose law are you following?”
“I cannot say,” she replies in the same uninflected voice. Croi cannot read a single emotion from her.
“You cannot say?” Croi repeats, her voice thick with tears. She laughs a little. “Of course you can’t. I should have known. Is there anything you want to say to me?”
The Hag turns her head for a moment before speaking. “Tell the princess I did my part. I have paid off my debt. Tell her I owe her nothing more.”
Time, that trickster, freezes. Croi looks at the Hag, standing serene in front of her. Unaffected and cold, like always.
“I was a debt to you? That’s all?” Her voice cracks and she sucks in a breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. The Hag doesn’t like it when she is too excitable. “What if I promise to always listen to you? I will be so quiet, it will be like I don’t exist. I will never go to the human city again, all right? I will stay right here every day. Please don’t make me go like this. Please!”
The Hag doesn’t meet her eyes. “Do not tell anyone about yourself. Do not trust anyone. The forest paths are far more sinister than you think them to be. Be aware and be alert because the forest will no longer recognize you as kin. While the Glamour is in the process of breaking, you are not kin but something in between. Until the spell is broken, the forest will consider you a stranger.” The Hag stops speaking, hesitates, and finally meets Croi’s eyes. “I will remember you.”
Then she turns and walks away, leaving Croi looking after her, like a fool.
She used to play a game when she was little. She would try to find the softness in the Hag’s eyes. The softness would be a good enough substitute for the love she was sure the Hag would never be capable of. Croi was sure she would catch her unawares one day and see the emotion on her face, in her eyes. She was certain she would at the very least hear it in her voice. It took some years before Croi finally understood. You cannot expect softness from a creature made of stone.
Croi lets go of the tree trunk, and her feet start moving. She looks back once and murmurs a farewell to the garden, to the flower sprites, to the dwelling, and to the Croi who lived there.
Her goodbye tastes of pain, feels like forever, and smells like the earth, wet from the rain.
FOUR
THE WILDE FOREST IS A stranger to her now. Croi no longer knows her curves, and the forest, in turn, shows her no softness. Croi stumbles over roots, slips on muddy patches, and is attacked by briars. She suspects the vines of harboring sinister plans and the trees, with their coarse barks, of providing less comfort than they used to.