Chapter 24

We returned to Reedwatch in the afternoon. Our arrival caused no small stir, and I found myself wondering whether the village had sent us into the mountains without truly expecting us to come back.

Word spread quickly. The matrons were summoned, and a crowd gathered around the council hall. Grams was among the first to arrive. Without hesitation, she and Mirri took Lilae with them—back to Grams’ house to wash the road and fear from her skin, find her clean clothes, and give her milk and cookies. I told Mirri we would manage without her.

I never saw the matrons enter, but in time we were called inside.

Much like before, the hall was packed, as though all of Reedwatch had come to bear witness.

We told them of the trolls - of people lost to grief and hopelessness, forgotten by the world. We spoke of the cost of peace: monuments raised and names carved, so that those who surrendered would be remembered. We told them that other villages could do the same, that remembrance itself was protection, and that word needed to spread.

At some point, Grams appeared in her rightful place, standing between the people of Reedwatch and the matrons. Not long after, Mirri joined us, Lilae cradled in her arms.

When the tale ended, voices rose all at once. Fear, confusion, anger. The matrons were openly skeptical. Order was eventually restored, and the matrons declared our tale a lie.

Grams stepped forward, placing herself squarely between us and the matrons.

“Enough,” she said, her voice steady and firm. “You asked these people to secure peace, and they did so without costing the village a single animal or trinket. Winter is coming, and they spared you that burden. At the very least, you will show them respect.”

She turned to one of the matrons. “Morghinna, you called this council when trolls struck Pinefall. You stood in this very hall and demanded action. Do you truly not recognize the child they returned to you?”

A matron scoffed. “Stories and theatrics-”

Grams’ head snapped toward her. “I am speaking. You will listen.”

She drew a slow breath, visibly reining herself in. “You speak of tradition, of precedent. But tradition exists to protect the tribe, not to excuse inaction. These people upheld their bargain. That alone-”

“They bring lies,” another matron cut in. “Monuments and stories instead of proof-”

Grams’ control shattered. “Oh, fuck you!”

The words cracked through the hall like a whip.

“Proof?” Grams snarled, stalking forward. “They brought you peace, you stone-cunted hags! No livestock lost. No jewelry traded. No goblins dead in spring raids because these people walked into the fucking mountains and came back alive!”

She jabbed a finger toward Morghinna. “You stood here and screamed about stolen children. That child was taken. That child was returned. Don’t you dare pretend you don’t recognize her because it’s inconvenient to your pride.”

Her voice rose, raw and vicious. “What did you want? That they’d bring you old king troll’s head on a silver platter? A tidy little victory you could polish and hang on the wall? Even if they’d dragged one in by the beard, you braindead cocksleeves would’ve invented some new rule to deny Mirri her place.”

She stopped inches from the dais. “I let you override me once. That was my mistake. But if you think I’ll stand here while you fuck over the people who did your job for you-”

Her teeth bared in a grin that promised ****. “-then start praying to whatever scraps of spirits still tolerate you. Because I will pack my shit, leave this village, and hex your dried, dusty wombs on my way out.”

The hall went dead silent.

Grams straightened, smoothing her shawl as if nothing had happened.

“Now,” she said coldly, “are you going to honor the bargain… or prove you were never worthy of it?”

The hall fell silent, as if the village itself was holding its breath. The five matrons sat rigid, their faces flushed with rage.

A recess was called before the situation could worsen. We were dismissed with the decision to reconvene at dusk.

We followed Grams back to her home, where she swore creatively the entire way. I had no idea what a “pintle-nipped, club-tackled, ragged-cod yardling” was, but I resolved never to become one.

Once inside, Grams released a long, exhausted breath and declared she needed tea, vanishing into the kitchen.

We sat on the floor around the low table. I smiled at Lilae, but she buried her face in Mirri’s neck. I took Mirri’s hand, then reached for Ashlara’s. She flinched at first, then relaxed when I smiled at her.

I wondered whether the matrons would honor the agreement or whether they would cling to their pride and doom their people to further suffering. Given how much the trolls had already suffered at goblin hands, that would be the worst outcome. And it felt uncomfortably possible.

My thoughts drifted to Yveth, to her hall of mirrors. Of all the things that could have been.I wondered if I should have done more, said more. If pushing harder would have helped, or only made things worse. Was my restraint wisdom or cowardice?

After tea, Grams seemed herself again - warm, attentive, and endlessly patient. She fussed over Lilae, who warmed to her almost as quickly as she had to Mirri. Seeing her smile hurt in a quiet way. I wondered if I’d ever have something like that. I’d failed so completely with Emily that I wasn’t sure.

Dinner followed - another of Grams’ miracles - and soon after we were summoned back to the council hall.

The matrons acquiesced. They agreed to build the memorials and to welcome Mirri back into the tribe. The livestock would remain with Reedwatch, but Grams insisted we keep the jewelry as payment. Watching her bend the council to her will was… impressive.

As the meeting began to dissolve into murmurs and movement, Mirri spoke. Her voice carried cleanly over the rising din.

“Matron Morghinna,” she said, “I wish to invoke the Rite of the Shared Burden.”

The goblins paused. The hall settled.

With a measured sigh, the matron to the left of center addressed her. “As a member of the tribe, this is your right. What burden do you wish to share?”

Mirri tightened her grip on Lilae’s hand. “Lilae of Pinefall.”

The matron knelt, speaking softly to the girl in goblin-tongue. I couldn’t understand the words, but the tone was surprisingly gentle.

Lilae looked up at Mirri. Mirri nodded. Lilae answered.

“Very well,” the matron said, rising. “At dawn tomorrow, the Rite of the Shared Burden will begin.”

Mirri bowed her head. “Thank you… mother.”

“What?” I blurted-

-and immediately found myself being dragged bodily out of the council hall by a very small, very determined goblin.

* * *

“You didn’t think to tell me your mother was a matron?” I asked Mirri, incredulous.

“Would it have changed anything?” she replied evenly.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Would it have? She was Mirri’s mother. Would I have softened? Tried to make a better impression? Accepted the council’s request more readily?

Or would I have raged that she’d exiled her own daughter? Would I have told her what a shitty mother she was to cast out Mirri - someone so kind, so brilliant, so beautiful? Would I have challenged someone to a duel just on principle?

I didn’t know. And that uncertainty bothered me more than any answer.

In the end, it didn’t matter. What was done was done. There was no changing it.

I couldn’t decide whether I should apologize to her mother, offer some kind of olive branch. She was Mirri’s mother- shouldn’t she have a relationship with her? Shouldn’t I try to help mend that bridge?

But what did Mirri want?

It was her choice. Her history. Her pain. If she never wanted to see her mother again, I had no right to push her toward it.

I ran a hand through my hair, then curled my fingers into it and gave a frustrated tug. One thing, at least, was clear. I was Mirri’s choice. And I would follow her lead, wherever it took us.

“Maybe,” I said finally. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re back. Your place in the tribe is secure. You’re where you’re meant to be.”

She wrapped her arms around me without hesitation. “You’re damn right I am. Right here. With you… and Ashie. And Serah.” Her grip tightened, fierce and certain.

I pulled her close, then reached out and hauled Ashlara into the embrace. When I extended an arm toward Serah, the dragon looked offended, then irritated - and finally resigned and reluctantly allowed herself to be drawn in.

“This Rite of Shared Burdens,” I asked, “that’s basically an adoption, right?”

“Yeah. Kind of,” Mirri said. “I carry her burden until she comes of age. Then she carries her own.”

I nodded. “Then we need to find a place to settle down.”

“Why?” she asked.

“The road’s no place for a kid. Not after everything we’ve seen. There’s been too much danger. She needs safety.”

Mirri nodded once.

“And I’m going to need to learn your language,” I added. “It’s not fair that she has to learn mine while I ignore hers. She needs her roots.” Another nod. “I want to learn yours too,” I said to Ashlara. “And yours,” I added, turning to Serah. “Your people have their own language, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously. We invented language.”

I grinned. “Then I can’t wait to learn where it all began.”

* * *

The rite began as the sun crested the distant mountains, its first light spilling across the village. Mirri and Lilae both spoke before the gathered witnesses. I didn’t understand the words, but Mirri told me they were declarations of intent - spoken promises made aloud so they could never be taken back.

Lilae was given a brand and instructed to start a fire. When it burned down to embers, Morghinna gathered the ashes and gently smudged them beneath Lilae’s eyes, marking the grief she still carried.

Mirri knelt before her and placed a knife in her hands, a symbol of the mother’s sacrifice and the child’s duty. Then both were cut. Their blood was collected, and ash was pressed into the wounds so the scars would remain. Together, mother and child pressed their bloodied hands to a great stone in the center of the village, leaving twin handprints behind.

More words were spoken. Then the rite ended.

They clung to each other, sobbing openly. It was one of the most emotional things I’d ever witnessed - and something I knew I’d never forget.

Afterward, we returned to Grams’. Mirri and Lilae were allowed to stay in Reedwatch now, but Ashlara, Serah, and I were expected to leave by nightfall. I couldn’t stop thinking about what came next - where we’d go, whether it was right to bring Mirri and Lilae with us at all. They had a home now. Safety. And the life I’d lived these past weeks was anything but safe.

After lunch, Grams sent me to fetch water from the well. Several trips later, the barrel out front was full again. Then she put me to work cleaning out the goat pen. I wasn’t sure why I was the only one getting assigned chores, but after everything she’d done for us, I wasn’t about to complain.

As I finished up, Grams came out with a glass of cold tea. I thanked her and drank deeply, savoring the odd lemon-and-sage flavor.

She handed me a basket. “I need help collecting eggs. Come on,” she said, already heading toward the coop on the far side of the yard. “It’s not what I expected,” she added matter-of-factly, “but thanks for the great-grandkid.”

I stumbled slightly at that, but she kept going. “Mirri’s back in the tribe. She can take over as shaman now. She’s earned it - and she’s more than qualified.”

She opened up the side of the coop and ducked in, her small frame fitting easily inside as long as she lowered her head. An egg suddenly flew out and bounced off my hand. I juggled it awkwardly before catching it and placing it in the basket. The moment my hand left it, another egg came sailing toward me. I tried to catch it and crushed it instead, slick warmth oozing between my fingers. I shook my hand, grimacing, just in time for another egg to come flying.

“So what now?” she asked as I managed to catch the next one.

“I don’t know,” I said as another egg narrowly missed my face.

“You gonna stick around?” she asked, pitching another.

“Is that an option?” I barely caught it.

“Might be.” Another egg flew. “I’ve got a job for you, if you’re interested.”

I caught that one cleanly. “Depends. What do I have to do this time? Slay a dragon? Climb Mount Doom and toss a ring into lava?”

“Wise ass. No Smaug or Sauron,” she said, whipping another egg at me.

“Wait - what?” The egg hit me square in the face. I sputtered and wiped my face with my sleeve. “How the hell do you know about Lord of the Rings?”

“My Da told me when I was little,” she said brightly. “The fearless goblins - Bilbo and Frodo - the evil elves Sauron made to conquer the world - the fellowship-”

“Wait,” I said again. “Bilbo and Frodo were goblins?”

“Yeah! Peaceful homebodies. Bilbo got kidnapped by dwarves, found the invisibility ring, met Smaug, big battle. Then years later Gandalf convinced Fordo to destroy the ring when Sauron raised his elf army.” She stuck her head out of the coop and stared at me. “That’s what happened, right?”

I opened my mouth to correct her, then stopped. Goblins were the villains in that story. If I told it to Lilae, would I tell it as written? Or make it something inspiring? The answer was obvious.

“That’s exactly what happened,” I said. “Sorry. Been a while since I read the books.”

She studied me for a long moment, then shrugged. “Anyway. The job’s simple. I need someone to go to Northgate for winter supplies. Week there, week back. I’d do it myself, but someone gave me a bunch of work supervising construction on some memorials.” She smirked. “So I need a big, strong kid to handle it.”

“You know I’m only about ten years younger than you, right?”

She grabbed my shirt, yanked me down to her height, gave me a quick once-over, then sniffed. “Eh. You’ll do. What do you think, kid?”

She let go.

“Sure,” I said. “I’d be happy to help.”

“I knew you would,” she said. “Take Mirri and Lilae with you. You’ll need all the help you can get hauling things back.”