The Springborn

SABELLA

FEbrUARY 18, 1886

MORNING

T he scents of toasted bread, fried eggs, and fried potatoes fill the air. On my lap, Sparrow babbles while banging a spoon on the edge of the long, oak table. I cherish the warm weight of her and forgive her for keeping me awake during the hours between my saw-fetching and now. If only I had a third arm with which to feed myself, I would be quite content.

Sparrow’s happy wriggling causes her dress to slide up and bunch at her waist. I tug it down. This flowered, blue cotton frock was a gift from Darlis, the innkeeper’s wife. The dress Sparrow had worn since we left Miners Ridge—a dress formerly belonging to Cleona’s largest doll—had become too tight and short, which caused her, in Calder’s eloquent words, to resemble an overstuffed sausage ready to split its casing. Mere moments after Cleona finished sawing off my antlers this morning, Darlis paid a call to our bedroom to offer me two baby-sized dresses and a bonnet. The woman made no comment regarding the baby’s size, likely thinking Sparrow’s growth spurt both natural and unexpected by an inexperienced mother. There were tears in her eyes as she pressed the small garments into my grasp, so I did not dare to ask who had last worn them.

The morning sunlight blazes through the half-closed shutters and heats the dining room most pleasantly. It would have been a fine day for traveling, but if the doctor’s predictions are correct, Yonaz will not be well enough to leave here for days—if not weeks. How will we pay the innkeeper’s bill, unless one of the other Springborn has a hidden, magical talent for minting gold?

Calder strides into the dining room with Robbie at his heels. Literally. Their clothes look freshly ironed—and I suspect that Darlis should be thanked for this as well.

“I still say you ought to have stayed in bed for the entire day,” Robbie fusses. “Look at you. You’re pale as milk.”

Pale from lack of sleep, I think, recalling our secret repast.

“I think it is better that I give Yonaz silence and solitude so he can recover,” Calder says. He pulls out the chair beside mine and offers me a smile. “Besides, it will do me more good to be here among friends than to be shut up in the gloom with a sick person.”

Sparrow squeals with delight and reaches for Robbie. He takes her and kisses the top of her head before he sits across the table from Calder and me. “You know where stubborn ill people end up, Cald? The graveyard, that’s where.”

Calder pours tea into his cup, smirking at Robbie’s fussing. “Thank you for the reminder. But as I am no longer ill, I will store up your wisdom for another time.”

“Where are the twins?” Robbie asks nervously. “Not stricken with the fever, are they?”

“They’re perfectly well.” I make sure to whisper in case Darlis and Edgar are close by. “Cleona took Branna out for a walk. She’s still a dog. Or at least one of them is a dog. I suppose they could have switched roles in the night.”

I glance at Calder as he grabs a slice of buttered toast from the platter. Of course he catches me looking at him.

“Are you worried about me as well?” he asks playfully. Is he flirting, after we agreed to be friends? “Because I’m fine, I swear it. It was only the effects of the cold. I have been thoroughly warmed. I feel almost tropical.”

“Good.” I reach for my tea cup and knock my fork off the table. The clatter of the metal hitting the floorboards does not amuse me—but it does make Sparrow giggle and clap. When I bend to retrieve the fork, Calder does the same. His forehead collides with mine while his fingers brush the back of my hand. It is the briefest of touches, but it sends my pulse racing.

Apparently, my heart is disinterested in my brain’s plan to avoid romantic notions of Calder Hadrian.

He laughs and sits up, rubbing his forehead. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

I force a laugh. It sounds like a donkey with a chest cold.

“Unka,” Sparrow says, patting Robbie’s cheek and providing a welcome distraction.

“Clever girl,” Robbie says. “She’s calling me ‘uncle.’ Did you hear that?”

Calder spoons eggs onto his plate. “They heard her in the stables, Rob. How a small girl can produce such volume is a mystery to me. Eggs, Sabella?”

“No, thank you.” Lack of sleep left me with barely any appetite—and even that vanished the moment Calder entered the room. Now that I’ve heard him speak my name, I couldn’t eat another bite. Somehow, on his lips, my name sounds like much more than the simple title my parents gave me. Like he’s quoting a sacred book or the lyrics of a glorious song.

My breath hitches. What if Calder possesses a gift that allows him to manipulate others with his voice? Could he be forcing me to fall for his charms? How could I defend myself from that kind of magic? The very notion that I might have escaped my father’s control only to fall under the power of another man sickens me.

“Are you all right, Sabella?” Robbie asks. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. You’re not ill, are you? Feverish?”

Calder pours more tea into my cup. “Drink,” he says.

“Go on. Tea always helps,” Robbie adds.

I fear it will take more than a little brown liquid to assuage my fears. Nevertheless, I drink.

“Better?” Robbie asks hopefully. I nod.

Sparrow reaches for me. “Mama,” she says, plain as day.

Robbie rounds the table to bring her to me. I welcome her into my arms with a kiss. She rests her soft cheek against mine. In my heart, I pledge anew to protect her. But how can I keep such a promise if I cannot even protect myself?