Chapter 4

The morning after they returned to the manor, Evelyn laid out a roll of labels.

The main-house pharmacy, the kitchen pantry, the medicine cabinet, the winter storage, the cellar, the greenhouse: six keys lay in a neat row on her desk. She had wiped each one clean and labeled what it opened and where to find the spare.

Baker, the butler, took the keys, looking confused. "Are you going on vacation?"

"No. From now on, none of this should be my responsibility alone."

"But Mrs. Hart's allergy medicine..."

"Second shelf of the medicine cabinet. The yellow label is for daily use. The red one is only for when she can't breathe. If Father has spasms at night, call Ellis first. Don't increase the dose yourself. And Serena must never touch the bitterleaf in the south greenhouse."

Baker wrote it all down. Before half a day had passed, though, he was back with his notebook.

"Does Mr. Hart take his medicine before or after meals? Which herb goes in Adrian's coffee during the Blood Moon? Ms. Serena's birthday perfume contains laurel. Will that trigger her allergy?"

For nine years, Evelyn had kept track of countless little details. No one else knew them.

When Helena found out Baker kept making mistakes, she didn't ask why her older daughter had handed over the keys so suddenly. She just asked Evelyn to write a complete manual.

"You're so thorough. If you're handing these things over, you need to teach people how to do them," her mother said. "Take a long rest after the party."

Evelyn nodded. A moment later, her mother gently put her arms around her. "If you really don't want to do any of this, you can let it all go. You're my daughter. Whatever you choose, I'll always love you."

Evelyn nearly cried. She almost told her mother. But her throat hurt, and when she looked at Helena's face, the words wouldn't come.

...

At noon, Serena entered the pharmacy with the perfumer.

On the table lay the laurel-based calming formula Evelyn had spent six months perfecting. She had annotated every dosage and recorded the data from three failed trials at the end.

"We're launching the Luna charity scent at the party," Serena said. "I've already announced that I created it for wolves who lose control during the Blood Moon. Evelyn, will you sign the description card?"

The perfumer turned to the end of the draft and hesitated. "These initials are E.H. Did Evelyn Hart create the original formula?"

"We developed it together." Serena smiled easily. "Evelyn doesn't like being in the public eye. I've always presented it for her."

Evelyn looked at her. "We did not develop it together."

Serena's smile froze for a second. "But you already agreed to help me with the party."

"I'll check that the dosage is safe, but I won't put your name down as the creator."

"Why draw lines within the family?"

Helena came in just then. "Evelyn, we've already announced who created it. If we change that now, the guests will laugh at Serena. Help her this once more, won't you?"

Adrian arrived right behind her. He didn't ask who had created the formula. He handed the draft to the perfumer. "Go ahead as planned. Evelyn will make sure the scent is safe."

"You don't get to decide whose name goes on it," Evelyn said.

Adrian studied her, as if trying to figure out what game she was playing. "You don't want to stand onstage. Serena does. The work stays in the family. No one loses anything."

"I do."

"What do you lose?"

"My name. It's my work!" Evelyn's eyes reddened before she could stop them.

The room fell silent.

Tears rolled down Serena's cheeks.

"Evelyn, sweetheart." Helena sat beside her older daughter and stroked her hair. "Have we been so busy with Serena that you feel neglected? After the party, I'll take you to Gray Harbor for a few days. We'll get some real rest."

Evelyn looked at her mother.

She had heard so many gentle promises like that. It was always "after Serena's latest problem is over"—her exams, her illnesses, her birthdays, her ceremony. One thing would end, and another would take its place.

"There's no need."

...

By dinnertime, the kitchen was in chaos. Her father couldn't find the right medicine. Serena complained that the caterer's soup was too salty. Adrian waited in the living room for his Blood Moon herbal coffee, but it never came.

For the first time, they all felt the gap Evelyn left when she stopped doing everything for them.

Marcus climbed the stairs and knocked on the attic door. "All this over your sister's birthday? You won't even cook one meal? You never used to act like this."

"That's right. I used to do everything."

"Then why not now?"

Evelyn didn't answer. The real reason was too complicated to explain, and she had so little time left. They could misunderstand her and blame her. She no longer wanted to explain herself or change anything.

Late that night, the old wound flared up.

It was barely a dozen steps from her bed to the bathroom. As soon as she shut the door, her strength gave out and she slid down the cold tiled wall. The fire in her marrow was worse than it had been at North Bay. Afraid of staining the carpet, she stayed on the tiles until dawn.

The next day, she washed the bloodstained towels and left the handover manual in the kitchen. Then she burned every photo of herself and Adrian taken after his Blood Moon episodes over the years.

She got rid of her belongings in batches, keeping fewer and fewer clothes. In the end, a whole life that had once filled two suitcases fit into a single handbag.

That afternoon, her father came to the pharmacy carrying an old medicine box with scorched edges. The lid still bore the black burn mark from a silver-laced arrow.

"The pain's been bad these past few days." Marcus pushed the box toward her. "Make another batch of the antidote while you're at it. Serena says she can do it, but you've prepared it for years, and she hasn't helped in a long time. I'd rather you made it."

Evelyn stared at the box. The smell of blood in the rain five years ago, and the high fever that followed, came rushing back.

Her father had no idea the remedy he trusted so much had nearly killed her.