A fresh group of mourners arrives over the bridge, bearing more baskets of flowers.

Weed falls to his knees. “No!” he cries, reaching for the baskets. “No!”

The man lays a rough hand on Weed’s shoulder. “God gives ’em and God takes ’em away,” he says comfortingly. “Even a short time on this earth is a blessing, I reckon—but for those of us what get left behind, sometimes it feels too hard to bear, don’t I know it, son.”

“Such needless killing,” Weed murmurs as he touches one of the blooms. “They have no power to help anyone now.” He covers his face with his hands.

Everyone thinks he is despondent over the dead child, but I see the way one hand lingers on the basket. My grief curdles into icy rage.

“What kind of freak are you?” I hiss in his ear. Then I turn and race back over the bridge. I cannot take the shortcut beneath the castle this time, for I know I will never find my way through those tunnels alone. I must run the long way around, through the muddy pastures that surround the outer bailey until I find my way back to the road.

I am through Bailiffgate and halfway down Market Street again before Weed catches up with me. He chases after me, calling my name, begging me to stop and listen. But I plug my ears with anger and hurt. I am furious at him, and at myself for my confusion, too—This is Weed you run from, the same Weed you care forso much—how could you be so drawn to one so heartless? Yes, despite everything you still long for him to hold you, kiss you, even now you long for it—

He catches me and seizes my arm. His grip is hard. I cry out in pain.

“Forgive me—you must forgive me, Jessamine! Try to understand. I know I seem cold, or freakish—but I do not know how to feel what you feel—you will have to teach me—”

“I think you have no feelings at all!” I cry. “Not real ones, anyway. The suffering of a daisy reduces you to tears. But a child—a dead child—dear God, Weed, you are monstrous!”

He flinches as if slapped.

“I am not monstrous,” he whispers hoarsely. “But I am different from you, Jessamine. Different from everyone. I see things—I hear things—”

“So do I! I see you knowing things you cannot possibly know. I hear you speaking when no one is near. I feel you keeping secrets from me, even as you hold me in your arms.” I try and fail to pull away from him. “I cannot bear it anymore! Tell me what you are, Weed, or be gone from my life.”