Of stale lilacs.

Just how the Hunters had smelled. The same scent that had filled the air before Andreia Joanis sat up, dead but still moving.

It wasn’t my imagination. The Rot smelled the same.

I looked back at the city. Through the remaining trees, the Shadow Temple glittered darkly in the sunlight. Toward the center, the Sun Temple shone brightly. Both were almost painful to look upon. Farther back, Wayfair Castle rose high on the hill, and beyond the ivory towers, the Stroud Sea shimmered a deep blue. How long until the Rot reached the farms I’d passed and the city beyond? What would happen if it reached the Dark Elms and then the sea?

When I came upon the Massey farm, I saw that only an acre of untainted land remained behind the stone home and the now-empty stables. Worse yet, the gray of the Rot was dangerously close to the leafy heads of cabbage not yet ready to be picked.

Holding my sack to my chest, I resisted the urge to run past the Massey home, to put distance between myself and the catastrophe waiting to happen. There was no point, though. My destination was far worse than this.

The creak of hinges drew my gaze to the home. Mrs. Massey stepped outside, a woven basket in hand. The moment she spotted me, she waved.

Shifting my load to one arm, I returned the gesture, riddled with guilt. Mrs. Massey had no idea that I could’ve stopped the devastation to her farm. If she did, I doubted she’d come outside to greet me. She would probably attempt to beat me over the head with that basket.

“Good morning,” I called out.

“Morning.” She drifted down the cracked stone of the walkway. The dirt clinging to the knees of her pants told me that she’d already been working what was left of the farm as Mr. Massey likely went to town. People like these were often up before anyone else and to bed after everyone else.

Tavius often referred to them as the lower class. Only someone not fit to rule would think of the backbone of the kingdom as such, but the heir was, well…an ass. Tavius held little respect for those who put the food on his plate, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the feelings were mutual. And if they weren’t already, it was only a matter of time before they shared the same opinion.

“What brings you out here?” Mrs. Massey asked. “Did the Crown send you?”

She assumed I worked in the castle, believing the Crown offered the food I brought. I never gave her any indication to think otherwise. “I wanted to check in on the Coupers. I wasn’t sure if they knew about what’d happened last night in Croft’s Cross. With the damages to some of the buildings, I’m sure extra hands will be needed for repairs.”

Mrs. Massey nodded. “Such a terrible thing.” She rested the basket on a rounded hip as her gaze shifted in the direction of the city. “But I suppose the upcoming Rite will bring…some joy.”

I nodded. “I’m sure it will.”

“You know, I’ve never been to a Rite. Have you?”

“Haven’t had the opportunity,” I told her. It would be risky for me to show up there, especially when the Crown would be in attendance. But I was curious about all that occurred. “I’m sure it’s boring.”

The skin on her sun-darkened face creased as Mrs. Massey laughed. “You shouldn’t say that.”

I grinned, but my humor faded as my gaze skipped over the gray fields. “It’s spread since the last time I was here.”

“It has.” She brushed away a wayward curl that’d escaped the lace of the white cap she wore. “It seems to be moving faster. We’ll probably have to harvest before any of its ready. That’s our only option at this point since the blockade that Williamson built out of wood didn’t stop it like we’d hoped.” She gave a small shake of her head, and then a wan smile appeared. “I’m just glad our son found work on the ships. It gets to Williamson, you know? That his son won’t be following in his footsteps like Williamson did with his father before him. But there’s no future here.”

I held my sack tighter as my chest squeezed, wishing I knew what to say—wishing there was something to say.

Wishing I had been found worthy.

“I’m sorry.” Mrs. Massey laughed nervously, clearing her throat. “None of that is your concern.”

“No, it’s all right,” I told her. “There’s no need to apologize.”

 She exhaled roughly as she stared at her ruined farm. “You said you were visiting the Coupers?”

I nodded, glancing at what now felt like a sad sack of food. I’d already stopped at three other homes before coming here. “Do you need anything? I have apples and potatoes. There isn’t much, but—”

“Thank you. That is a kind offer and much appreciated,” she said, but her spine had gone straight, and her mouth tightened.

Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I realized that I might have offended her with such an offer. Many of the working class were proud people, not used to nor desiring what they sometimes saw as handouts. “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were in need.”

“I know.” The press of her mouth softened a bit. “And I won’t be too proud to accept such generosity once that day comes. Fortunately, we are not there yet. The Coupers can benefit far more than we can. They haven’t been able to grow a single crop in far too long, no potato or bean.”

I glanced ahead to where the short, rolling hill shielded the Couper home from view. “Do you think Penn has already found another source of income?”

“Amarys was telling me the other day that they’ve both tried,” she said, her gaze fixed in the same direction. “But with the harvesters fleeing to other farms and the shops in the city, nothing has been available. I think they decided to wait it out. Hopefully, it’s not too late for Penn to see if some of the businesses need aid.”

There was a chance for Penn to find temporary work—for some good to come out of what’d happened in Croft’s Cross last night. I wanted to ask what the Masseys would do once their property became like the Coupers’. Would they hang onto their lands, believing that it would once again become fertile? Or would they leave the home and acres farmed by their families for centuries? The Masseys were older than the Coupers, but age wasn’t the issue. Other sources of income weren’t plentiful.

Something had to be done now, curse or not. This wasn’t the first time I’d thought that. It wasn’t even the hundredth.

Turning back to Mrs. Massey, I said my goodbyes and started toward the Coupers’. The potatoes and apples wouldn’t last them long, but it was something, and I was positive that I would have more than I could carry tomorrow. So much of the food being prepped now would go untouched by the guests.

The dead trees had long since fallen and had been cleared away, but it was still a shock to reach the hill and see nothing but what looked like a fine layer of ash.

By the time the Couper home came into view, I’d expected to hear their daughter’s girlish laughter and their son’s happy shrieks, both too young to fully understand what was happening around them. The only sound was the dead grass crunching under my boots. As I grew closer to the home, I saw that the front door was cracked open.

I walked onto the stoop. “Penn?” I called out and nudged the door open with my hip. “Amarys?”

There was no answer.

Maybe they were out back in the barn. They did have a handful of chickens left, at least they had when I was here a few weeks ago. They could also be in the city. Maybe Penn had already thought to go to the shipping companies. Figuring I could leave the apples and potatoes in their kitchen, I pushed open the door the rest of the way.

The smell hit me right off.

It wasn’t the scent of Rot that sent my heart racing. This was thicker and turned my stomach, reminding me of meat left out to spoil.

My gaze swept the kitchen. Candles sat on the otherwise bare table, burned to the quick. The gas lanterns on the hearth mantel had long since gone out. The living area, a collection of chairs and worn settees, was also empty. Little balls and cloth dolls were neatly piled in a basket by the short hallway that led to the bedrooms.