The ferry hummed beneath them. It was a low, steady vibration that travelled through the floor, into the seats, and deep into Nimue's bones. She kept her hand pressed flat against the window. The bite of the cold glass seeped into her palm. Outside, the water was a vast, empty expanse of charcoal grey.
France had slipped away without her even noticing. One moment the coast had been a pale smudge against the horizon, and the next, she blinked and it was gone. There was nothing left but the endless, churning grey of the sea.
"Mama," Nimue said, turning from the glass.
Jane looked away from her own window and focused on her daughter. "Yes, sweetheart?"
"Why can't I see it anymore?"
"Because we are far away now. The earth curves, you see, and things eventually disappear over the edge."
Nimue pressed her face closer to the pane. She squinted as she tried to spot the curve her mother described. She couldn't see it at all. To her eyes, everything looked perfectly flat. The sky met the water in a straight line that seemed to go on forever. "It doesn't look curved."
"That's because you are small," Jane said. She offered a soft, reassuring smile. "The world looks different when you are small."
Nimue turned that thought over in her mind. She pulled back to look at her hand on the glass, noting how tiny her fingers appeared against the ocean's vast backdrop. Her whole hand was small. She wondered what the world looked like from Jack's height, or even from Jane's. She wondered if everything looked different when you were tall.
"Is it curved from up there?"
Jane's smile widened. "A little. You can see it clearly from a plane when you fly high enough."
"Have you seen it?"
"Yes, I have."
"Was it scary?" Nimue asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"No, not at all. It was beautiful."
Nimue looked back at the water. The grey stretched out in every direction, devoid of land or other boats. There was only the water and the sky, and the massive ferry cutting a path through both. Cinder shifted on her lap. He had spent most of the drive curled into a tight, russet ball with his nose tucked under his tail. Now, he lifted his head and swivelled his ears toward the window. His nose twitched as he sniffed the salt air. He didn't seem to care much for the open water.
"It's okay," Nimue told him. She gently patted the top of his head. "We aren't falling."
Despite her reassurance, his ears remained flat against his head.
. . .
The passenger lounge was mostly empty. A few people were scattered across the blue seats. A woman sat nearby with a sleeping baby in a carrier. Beside them, a man was buried behind a newspaper that rustled loudly every time he turned a page. A teenager sat with headphones over her ears, her foot tapping along to music that Nimue couldn't hear.
Across the aisle, Saoirse was fast asleep. Her head was tipped back and her mouth was slightly open. Jack had a book open in his lap, but he wasn't reading. He was staring at the page without turning it. His thumb held his place as if he had forgotten the story entirely. Nimue watched him for a while. She noted the way his jaw was set firmly. He always did that when he was thinking about something heavy. The white streak in his black hair caught the harsh fluorescent light from above.
"Papa," she whispered.
Jack blinked. His eyes slowly found hers. "What is it?"
"Why aren't you reading?"
He looked down at his book as if seeing it for the first time, then back at her. "I was just thinking."
"About what?"
He was quiet for a moment. The ferry shuddered beneath them, hitting a wave that made the whole room lift and then settle. "About home," he said eventually. "About the manor, and seeing your grandparents again."
Nimue thought about Aldric and Seraphina. She remembered the vast library, the warmth of the fire in the hearth, and the way Tilly had cried when they first left. She even thought about the portrait of the old woman with white hair who watched her from the end of the gallery.
"Are they waiting for us?"
Jack's mouth twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Yes. They have been waiting a long time."
. . .
The lounge grew colder as the crossing continued. Nimue pulled her blue coat tighter around her shoulders. She tucked her hands under her thighs to keep them warm. Cinder had gone back to sleep. His body provided a comforting, warm weight on her lap. His ears still twitched occasionally, catching sounds that remained hidden from her.
Jane went to the café counter and returned with four cups of tea in a cardboard tray. The cups were white and thin. They felt almost too hot to hold. Nimue wrapped her fingers around hers anyway, letting the heat seep through her skin.
"Drink it slowly," Jane warned. "It's very hot."
Nimue blew on the surface. She watched as the steam rose in a thick, white cloud. She took a tiny sip that burned her tongue, so she carefully set the cup down on the floor between her feet.
"Why is the water grey?"
Jane wrapped her hands around her own cup. "Because the sky is grey, and the water reflects the sky."
"Why is the sky grey?"
"Because it's winter, and the clouds are thick right now."
"Why?"
Jane looked at her. Something unnameable moved behind her green eyes. "Because the world is cold for now. It will warm up in the spring, and the clouds will thin until the sky turns blue again."
Nimue watched a pale gull cut through the grey air. Spring would bring blue skies and longer days, but it would also bring the quiet expectations she had carried all winter. She pressed her palms flat against her knees and pushed the thought away. The sea was wide enough to hold it for now.
"When will we be home?"
Jane glanced at her watch. The silver band caught the light. "A few hours. After the ferry, there's the drive, but we will be home before dark."
Nimue nodded, picking up her tea to try another sip. It was still too hot, so she set it back down.
. . .
The ferry moved much slower than she expected. She spent a long time watching the water, mesmerised by the white foam churning behind the ship. The waves spread out in wide V-shapes that grew larger and larger until they eventually disappeared into the grey.
She had never been on a boat this large before. She remembered the small wooden boat on the lake that Aldric rowed with oars. It had felt like a toy in comparison. This ferry felt like a massive building that had simply decided to float.
"Do you think there are fish?" she asked.
Jane looked up from her tea. "In the Channel? Yes, there are plenty of fish."
"Big ones?"
"Some, though perhaps not as large as the ones in the open sea."
Nimue pressed her face to the glass again. She tried to peer through the dark water, but she couldn't see anything. There was only the dark swell, the white foam, and the occasional gull that followed in their wake.
"Can I see them?"
"Not from here. They are far too deep."
Nimue thought about the fish she had caught in Normandy, the small silver one that had fought so hard against the line. She remembered the way it had felt in her hands; it was cold, slippery, and very much alive. She had let it go and watched it disappear into the dark. She wondered if that fish was still there, but it had probably swum away and forgotten her by now. She didn't want to be forgotten.
. . .
As the afternoon faded, the light began to change. The grey turned pale, then gold, and finally a deep orange that painted the water in long streaks. Nimue watched the sun sink toward the horizon. It looked as if it were falling directly into the sea.
"Mama, look. The sun."
Jane leaned forward to see. "Yes, it's setting."
"It's going into the water."
"It looks that way, doesn't it? But it isn't."
"The earth is just turning."
Nimue tried to understand that concept. The earth turning. She couldn't feel it at all. Everything felt perfectly still. The ferry moved, but the earth seemed to stay put. She decided she would think about it later, as there was already too much to process.
The sun dipped lower until the orange deepened into red and the clouds turned purple at the edges. Nimue watched until the sun was a thin sliver, then a line, and then nothing at all. The sky stayed bright for a while after, but the water turned a deep, bruised dark.
. . .
Jane checked her watch again. "We are close now."
Nimue looked out the window but saw only the dark water and the ferry lights' reflection in the glass. Then, she spotted something else. A small yellow light appeared in the distance, then another, until a line of them stretched along the horizon.
"Lights," she said.
"England," Jane replied. "Those are the lights of Dover."
Nimue watched as the lights grew closer, transforming into buildings, cars, and streetlamps. The ferry slowed as the coastline sharpened into view. A heavy steel ramp waited at the dock, its orange warning lights cutting through the dusk. The hull shuddered against the pier with a deep, metallic groan. A loud clang echoed through the vehicle deck, signalling their arrival.
They gathered their things. Cinder was wide awake now, his ears up and his tail wagging. He seemed to know they were leaving. He pressed his nose against the window to sniff the glass. Jack took Nimue's hand. "Ready?"
She looked at the dock. Cars were already moving, their headlights cutting through the dusk. "Yes."
. . .
The car was waiting for them in the terminal car park. Matthieu wasn't there. Instead, a different driver stood by the boot. He was a man with grey hair and a kind, lined face. He introduced himself as Henry and mentioned he had been driving for the family for twenty years.
Jane thanked him and helped Nimue into the back seat. Cinder jumped in right after her and settled on her lap. Jack took the front, while Saoirse took the seat beside Nimue and closed her eyes again.
As the car pulled out onto the road, the streetlights cast orange pools on the wet pavement. Nimue watched them pass. Each one lit up the inside of the car for a fleeting second before fading away.
"How long will it take?" she asked.
"Two hours," Jane said. "Maybe a little more."
Nimue leaned her forehead against the cold glass. Her own reflection hovered over the passing road, pale and translucent against the dark. White hair, green eyes, and a quiet face watched the orange streetlights sweep past. Each flash illuminated the car for a second before fading into the night. Her eyelids grew heavy as the steady rhythm of the wheels lulled her.
. . .
The road changed as they left the coast behind. The streetlights thinned and eventually stopped altogether, leaving only the car's headlights to cut through the darkness. Fields rolled past on either side as black shapes against an even blacker sky.
Nimue couldn't see much, but she kept her face pressed to the glass anyway. Cinder had fallen asleep again. His head rested on her knee and his ears twitched in his dreams.
The dark fields blurred into memory. She pictured the blue ribbon resting against silver hair, the cool weight of the Normandy stone closing in a small palm, and the careful loops of Fleur handwriting. The promise of a letter waited in her mind, steady and certain. She would write it as soon as the manor felt like home again.
. . .
The car turned off the main road and onto a narrow lane. Headlights cut through the heavy dark, catching bare branches that arched overhead like interlocking bones. The path tightened until overgrown hedges brushed the doors, leaving a dry, whispering scrape against the metal.
Henry pulled into a small clearing that was little more than a narrow alley, a gap between two ancient stone walls with barely enough room for a single vehicle. He cut the engine. The sudden silence of the countryside rushed in to meet them.
"We walk from here," Jack said.
Nimue looked out the window. There was nothing to see beyond the dark stone and the vast, empty sky. Only the pale glow of the car's interior light remained, reflecting her own tired face in the glass. Cinder stirred on her lap. His ears twitched forward and then back as he sensed the shift in their surroundings.
Jane opened her door and stepped out. The biting cold rushed into the cabin. Nimue followed her, climbing out while holding Cinder tightly against her chest. The fox pressed his cold nose into her neck, searching for warmth against her skin. Henry stood by the boot and handed the bags to Jack, offering Jane a final, respectful nod.
"Safe travels," he said.
"Thank you, Henry."
He got back into the car and started the engine. Nimue watched as the red tail lights shrank and then disappeared around a sharp bend. Once he was gone, there was only the dark, the cold, and the lonely wind moving through the bare trees.
Jack set the bags down on the frozen earth. "Is everyone ready?"
Nimue held Cinder a little tighter. Jane took her hand. Jack took Jane's other hand, and Saoirse placed a steadying hand on Jack's shoulder.
Nimue fixed her eyes on the dark stone wall ahead. She didn't want to close them. She wanted to see where they were going. A sharp pull tightened around her middle. The air compressed. The narrow alley and the trees folded inward, twisting into a rush of wind and shadow.
The darkness seemed to stretch. A heavy pressure built behind her eyes. Her stomach dropped and rose all at once, making her feel momentarily weightless. The narrow alley and the trees vanished in a blur of black and grey. Then they were standing beside the carriage.
The pressure behind her eyes snapped open. Gravity returned all at once, heavy and solid beneath her trainers. Nimue blinked, her breath catching as the world settled around them. They stood on a gravel path between two towering stone pillars.
A black carriage waited ahead, drawn by two lean, thestrals. Their sharp silhouettes blended into the deeper black of the night, visible only as pale lines against the starlight. Their breath plumed in the freezing air. The Keith family crest was a dark blot against the stars.
Nimue's legs felt wobbly as she touched the ground. She took a tentative step and had to catch herself to keep from stumbling.
Saoirse spoke, her voice sounding exhausted. "You are getting better at that."
"I kept my eyes open."
"I saw."
Jack opened the carriage door. The interior was dark and smelled of old leather and dust. He lifted Nimue inside and set her on the cold seat. Cinder jumped up after her, immediately curling into a protective ball on her lap. Jane climbed in beside her.
Saoirse took the bench across from them, and Jack sat down at her side. The door closed with a solid, echoing thunk.
The carriage wheels rolled forward, crunching softly over the gravel. The iron gate passed overhead, briefly blocking out the stars.
Saoirse leaned back against the leather seat and let out a slow breath. Nimue pressed her face to the window, her head resting against the cool glass. Jane pulled a thin blanket over Nimue lap. "Sleep, sweetheart. We are nearly there."
The road ahead vanished into darkness, but the air inside the carriage shifted.
A low vibration hummed against her skin, warm and steady, like a familiar voice calling from a long distance. The wards had wrapped around them. It was a low and steady vibration that felt like a familiar voice she had forgotten she ever knew. The manor wasn't visible yet, but Cinder's tail gave a single, knowing thump against her leg.
. . .
The drive felt much longer than she remembered. Perhaps it was simply because her eyes kept forcing themselves shut. She would pull them open to see more dark trees and more of the winding road, only for them to drift closed again a moment later.
At some point, the road straightened out and the trees fell back. The sky opened up above them. She saw the lights first; they were small, golden glows in the distance. Then the silhouette of the manor emerged against the stars. Its great towers rose high into the night air.
The carriage slowed as they approached. Nimue sat up straight. Cinder lifted his head in anticipation. The manor grew larger with every passing second. The windows glowed with a welcoming warmth, and the front door stood wide open.
When the carriage stopped, Jack opened the door. Cold air rushed in, carrying the familiar scent of woodsmoke, damp stone, and winter pine. He stepped out and turned to help his daughter. Nimue climbed out onto the gravel with Cinder tucked in her arms, her legs unsteady but her heart quickening.
Tilly stood in the doorway. His eyes shimmered with moisture. Aldric stood just behind him, with Seraphina by his side. Both of them were watching her with a quiet intensity that made Nimue's heart thud.
Her legs felt heavy from the long journey, but she didn't stop walking. Light spilled across the stone steps. She climbed the first step, then the second. Cinder climbed off of her.
"Grand-da. Gran-ma."
Aldric descended to meet her. He knelt on the cold stone, his hands trembling slightly as they reached for her shoulders.
"Welcome home, little one," his voice was thick.
She dropped her chin to his collarbone and let him pull her close. The rough wool of his coat, the familiar scent of cedar and old paper, and the steady beat of his heart anchored her.