Days passed after the mourning, and I prepared to leave.

Back in my room I packed my bags. I never had a suitcase or luggage so it was my first time, and I didn't know what to bring.

But I have to learn.

I remembered Christmas. The scary outsiders. Their dirty peasant faces. What would they do if they knew Agnes was gone? Would they burn the castle or kill us?

I would leave before that happens. I'll abandon Sabine if she wouldn't come with me.

I slipped to Agnes' room and there, as I knew, she kept money. I put the coins and folded paper in a small purse that hung from the body. I put it over my neck, and kept other money in my luggage. I sought out small, precious things. Weapons, too, a small knife in a leather sheath.

Clothes were not important, I'll buy what I want outside and I wasn't afraid of the cold. I needed things that would be useful. I didn't tell any of the men, or Cecile. By the time I ransacked Agnes's drawers and dresser I was ready.

I turned with a sigh and Primrose stood there. I swallowed an automatic yelp.

"Take the girls, too," she ended up saying.

"I was going to," I replied.

"Clothing is in the other room." She tilted her chin to a smaller room with trunks of clothing, outside and inside.

Primrose helped me and the children silently, but the air about her told me she wanted me gone as soon as possible.

"Don't waste the blood," she said when she handed me a familiar vial. It was differently shaped, and I wondered about it until I realized it. Sabine had filled up multiple vials for all of us.

"We all love her," I whispered. "How can we not, when she loves us so much?"

Primrose watched me hold the glass to my lips and then whispered. "Yes."

Maybe letting her slap me was worth it.

I placed it in my purse and pulled the cord tightly to close it. I took Lark's small hand in one and made sure Adalyn and Bernadette were holding hands and didn't lose one another in the night.

Leaving was not sad. I looked at the castle in hatred. I no longer loved my mother nor the song she sang. Agnes had died and I felt confusion as I grieved. Why? Was I not always wishing for her death? And Selma and Rowena were sitting helplessly in the council's room without their master.

But most of all, I was eager to leave Uriel. The men. Even Cecile, who was so lovestruck she was being a fool. She was growing completely dependent on them, who knew nothing of her illness and the troubles she had.

As the sky darkened I hurried to the other side where the port was, making sure the girls had dirt on their face and I, myself, drew on blemishes and put white powder over my eyebrows and lips. I was no longer beautiful when I looked up, and my scowl made me look—ugly.

I was carrying a trunk and Adalyn another. Then I reached the village I always saw inside my tower. I knew what to do, ask the unsuspecting children where the ship to leave this island was, then buy a pass. The children might get away without any. Jardin took a day, so we needed a room, so the sun didn't burn us, too.

I had it all planned out, and if they needed help we had Uriel—wait.

No. What was I saying?

The hot tears came to my face and I wouldn't wipe it, in case it washed away the blemishes I drew. I breathed heavily and hard as I walked away, and then Lark touched my hands gently.

"Margery?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Her voice was as innocent as any child could be, but she knew of things they didn't. But she cared for me.

"I need us to be safe. I need you three in a room if we get to board the ship. I don't want you girls burned."

"And you?"

"I'll be fine. But I am stronger. You must be fine, I promised myself that I'd protect you all. I need to find out things about the outside world, the people's mannerisms, lies to deceive them, and if we leave, how other cities proceed. Will we have enough money from Agnes to buy a house? Will I need a job? Kill people for money?"

"No killing!" Bernadette said suddenly. "You won't anymore, right, Margery? You said that."

I was still.

I had reverted to the old me, the ignorant me.

"Of course. You've helped me not forget that, Bernadette. Thank you."

She watched me with careful, almost suspecting, eyes before nodding. "You're welcome."

"I'll get us through this, don't worry!" I continued, almost a monologue by that point.

Focus on the ship, Margery, as long as I get on everything will be fine. I'll leave them all behind. But the girls', they'll have trouble. They hardly know the outside world and how to interact. What if they mess up? What if they—

"Ouch!" Lark cried, and jumped back. Her bonnet was falling.

"What happened?" I bent down and she rubbed her eyes.

"Something got into my eye."

I sighed, straightened the bonnet, retied the ribbon, and then stood back up. "Don't scare me like that anymore. We are in the town, too."

We were just there when a young boy walked up. Then we looked up to see a whole group of children around Bernadette's age, ten or so.

"Why, good afternoon to you," I sang out in falsetto.

"Hello. You new to town?" The boy was pulling his cap down bashfully, giving Bernadette and Adalyn looks.

"I'm a passing traveler, I was hoping you could point me to the port," I said, my voice high.

"The port be down there. Yes, that way. But what ship you be riding?"

"The ship—the ship that comes."

"Tonight or tomorrow's night?"

What?

"Tonight." I was trying to keep my voice sharp but it was softer. Why am I scared? "Yes, tonight, child."

"The Melrose?"

"Sure," I said in my falsetto.

"It's there." He pointed and then looked at the girls. "Why, thank you!"

I hurried, practically pulled poor Lark who held her bonnet with one hand. Reading my body language, Bernadette and Adalyn followed. We were at the port.

But now what? Did we buy some pass or pay the men at the ship? I'll worry about it later.

I read Melrose on the smaller ship and climbed on. The girls yelped with each away of the cheap ship stairs to the point I carried Adalyn's luggage too. I hated it, too, the feeling of being dispensed one moment and then have the weight pull you down, but nothing propelled one like anger.

I went on board and stared at a man dressed strangely. Was this the so-called "sailor"? His navy suit was too professional amongst the people in normal, peasant clothing. I walked to him and instead of the falsetto, deepened my voice. I had a lot of practice acting, you know, nearly twenty years. Yes, most of my life.

"Does this the ship also have rooms? I came on a ship with one. My children are tired," I explained, voice crass.

"Yes, ma'am!" he said chirpily, "the rooms in the back are for first class, second class have the ones up here. Which would you like to buy?"

"How much is one room?" I asked.

"Fifty francs for first class, thirty for second, ma'am."

I showed him some money. I expected him to count but his eyes widened and he gasped. Geez, peasant at heart, huh?

"Five of those would be enough," he said, grinning, "for first class. Three children would be stuffed in second class rooms, and they don't have good heating."

Like the cold mattered to us. I handed him the money and he told us to follow him, then froze.

"Oh, and would you like your bag to be in the luggage hold?"

What was that? Did I have to pay more? I glared into his shiny, greedy eyes. How I longed to smack him over on the head, if not kill him as I promised. I fumbled to speak.

"I really could do without."

"Those are big bags, though. It will take up space in your room, and four people is a lot. There's two bunk beds so four people can fit exactly—oh, unless you'd like two rooms, one bed per person?"

Ahh, it surely brought me back to the time I was in the tower and dealt with pushy humans all day. I shouldn't have shown him my bag of money. Should've pretended I was some peasant widow.

"No, we were fine last time," I lied.

"The Melrose is quite small," he pestered. I agree, fool. But I'm saving up money.

"It's big. I'm good, please show us to our rooms."

"Very well, ma'am." His tone was unflattering. Ungrateful scum.

"Margery!"

I raised my head when I heard it. The wind blew just then, my cheap fabric bonnet loosening. I grabbed my hair and pushed it beneath the black cap. It was a voice I had to hide from no matter what.

"Hurry," I said to the sailor.

He made us walk around from the deck to the back and then down some stairs. Lark made a small cry as her tiny body swayed left, but I jumped back in time to catch her, then leapt back to the sailor's back and nearly pushed him down the stairs. But I was too late.

"Wait! Margery, I have to talk to you!"

The sailor stopped. I was cursing at him in my head, jaw tensing. Should I go push him down or gently push him to the side and down myself? The luggage was goddamn heavy, too. Ahh my feet hurt and my legs were sore.

As I monologued the sailor faced me.

"I think someone's calling for you?"

"My name isn't Margery."

"Oh, my apologies ma'am." He turned, I rose my feet, then my keen hearing sensed steps behind me and I closed my eyes.

No. Margery, you will not cry. For hell's sake you aren't Margery. Ignore. Ignore. Breath in and out.

I took my first step down the stair and then he was there.

"Margery! I'm here, with the doctor and Cecile!"

I almost turned my head on reflex, but I didn't.

"I told them to keep it a secret as we followed you and came on the Melrose too."

Why? I wanted to be alone, goddammit!

"I never wanted to upset you, I didn't betray you. I have so many things I want to tell you. Please listen, just listen to a whimsical story, and then decide if you still want to cut relations with me! I can't stand you misunderstanding me—because I think—I love you."