The orphan’s dormitory held twenty beds. The girls—for there were no boys—slept two or three together. I sat on the bed I shared with Willow, bent over a torn dress, stitching as best I could in the low light. Candles weren’t wasted on orphans, but Rosalind had permission to light one to make sure all the orphans were tucked in safely. She’d set it between me and Fern, and went to stand watch at the door, in case the nuns wandered past our quarters.

“I don’t know how it happened,” Aspen, Rosalind’s younger sister, stood biting her lip and clutching one of her hands. “Ivy dared me to climb the tree, but I was so careful…”

“Not to worry,” I murmured, squinting at the rip. “I’ll fix it up quick and no one will be the wiser. I’m not as good as Fern, but it’ll do.”

“I would’ve asked Fern to do my dress, but she’s repairing Ivy’s.”

I glanced up and smiled at Fern, a soft-spoken girl with waves of auburn hair. Ivy, a girl Aspen’s age, stood nearby, a frown on her unrepentant face. Like Aspen, she held her right hand to her chest.

“There. Good as new.” I checked the neat line of stitches and laid down the dress. “Now let me see your hand.”

Aspen’s left hand relinquished her right. She winced as I examined the reddened palm and bade her to flex her fingers.

“Sister Anne’s favorite punishment is the tawse,” I said, turning Aspen’s hand over to check the swelling. “Did she happen to see your torn dress or just your shenanigans?”

“She saw us climb the tree and fall out, but didn’t look at our dresses.”

“Then she won’t have any more cause to punish you,” I squeezed her good hand, “for it is no longer torn. But promise me you will not try to climb trees again.”

“Sorrel does it all the time.”

“Sorrel is part squirrel.”

A snort came from the far corner where Sorrel, a wiry young woman with tanned skin, crouched sharpening arrowheads for her makeshift hunting kit.

“Part squirrel and part fox,” I amended. “And maybe part fish, if she swims as well as she climbs.”

“Not me,” Sorrel said. “Willow is the one who likes to swim. I stick to trees.”

Aspen giggled.

“All right, off to bed with you. Wash your face first, and ask your sister if she will give you a cup of cold water to soak your hand. By morning your hand should be good as new, like your dress.”

“Will you help me wash?”

“I must go on an errand.”

Aspen accepted this, but Sorrel watched me with a sharp look on her face.

“Where is Willow?” Sorrel raised her voice to ask.

“Shh,” Rosalind snapped, almost as loud as Sorrel. “Willow will be here soon. She went to the market today and the friar wanted to see her.” All true, but Rosalind knew as well as I did that Willow wouldn’t sleep here tonight. She’d snuck out to a shed on the far side of the abbey grounds where she would stay until the worst of her fever passed.

“I’m to go to the friar also. I’ll tell her you asked after her,” I said. I’d check on Willow after I placated the friar, so I’d told the truth without the details. Rosalind and I agreed to keep some things secret, but neither of us wanted to outright lie to the girls. We were the only family we had.

The cool night air wafted over my face as I hurried back to the kitchen and the friar’s office. Perhaps I could avoid his touch until he dozed off, then escape and sleep outside. Willow and I kept a few blankets in the shed, but with the fever on her, she wouldn’t need them. I could curl up outside and spend the night under the stars. Breathe the clean air. Or stay close to Willow and give her water and company while she suffered, and act as a diversion in case someone ventured close in search of her. Spending the night away from the dormitory was risky, but we could not reveal our fever to the friar.

The girls who were found out disappeared.

“Sage,” someone behind me hissed. I nearly leapt out of my skin.

“Sorrel?”

The tomboy peeled away from the shadows, anger in her stance. “You and Rosalind aren’t fooling anyone. Tell me truly. What’s going on?”

Sorrel had come to the orphanage when she was very small. The nuns named her, as they did all of us who came as babes, after a wild herb. A few years younger than Willow, Rosalind, and I—she did not suffer the fevers. We hid them from her.

“I’m on an errand for the friar, Sorrel. I must go to him now.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you are up to something. You and the others.” She bit her lip and looked away for a moment, as if fighting back tears. A surprise—I’d never seen Sorrel cry. Even during beatings, which she suffered often for her wild ways. “I know Hazel is gone for a reason.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that—”

“I know! But I can’t help you fight if I don’t know—”

“All right,” I tugged her back into the darkness. “All right. Before she disappeared, Hazel came and told us the friar was lying. He isn’t finding husbands for us. He’s up to something. That’s why Sari vanished and now Hazel. I don’t know what’s happening, but the friar is taking girls—girls like us—and selling them off so they’re never seen again.”

“I knew it,” she breathed. “That’s what the guards are for.”

I blinked. “What?”

“The pale guards? Surely you’ve noticed them. The ones always hanging around, with the strange, sallow skin. They don’t speak much, but when they do, it sounds like hissing snakes.”

I shuddered. “I noticed them.”

“They’re not keeping us safe. They’re keeping us here. But why?” She went on, speaking my thoughts. “What would they want with us?”

“Hello?” A small voice called from the shadows. Sorrel and I jumped, but a girl padded after us. One of the little ones.

“Go back to bed, Violet,” Sorrel said.

“I can’t sleep,” she said, rubbing her arms.

I removed my shawl and set it about her shoulders. “Is your stomach ill?”

“No. I dreamt of voices in the dark, weapons clinking.”

“It was just a dream,” Sorrel told the frightened girl, while I stroked Violet’s hair to calm her shivering body.

“Will you walk with me back down the hall?” Violet asked.

I bit my lip. The friar would be waiting.

“Go to him.” Sorrel sighed, unfolding her arms and reaching for the young girl. “I’ll take her. But this conversation isn’t over. I want to know what you know.” Her eyes bore into mine over Violet’s head.

“I’ll tell you,” I whispered. “I promise. Just…not tonight.”

I waited until they’d disappeared in the direction of the dormitory before continuing.

My footsteps echoed in the stone corridor. Halfway to the kitchens, I paused. Night had fallen, and it should be filled with the evening song of the birds. Instead, the gardens, forest beyond, and the abbey grounds were completely still. Odd.

Laurel still stood in the kitchen, scrubbing the pots.

“Sage,” She straightened and hurried to dry her hands. “He’s been shouting for you. I gave him the best meat tonight, with rich gravy. He should sleep soon. And give him this.” She handed me a flagon of ale.

“Thank you.” I strode on so I didn’t have to face her pity. A few kind words and I’d be hiding in the pantry for the night, or running out to Willow’s shack. Or running away.

Soon. Soon.

Heart fluttering, I stood outside the friar’s door and knocked.

“It’s Sage,” I called. The lock clicked open and he beckoned me in. The gold still glinted on his table. I gave him the ale and hovered by the door.

“Come here, child.” He sat and patted his knee. My stomach lurched again. This was how it began.

We both heard the scream—ugly and violent, shattering the evening calm.