“Of course.” I flashed him the smile that melted every doubt I’d run into in Acalta. “With time.”
It didn’t work well on him. But something in his hazel eyes softened—finally. Tamsin had been looking at me like a wild animal ready to pounce since we’d met. He was skittish, but he was breaking down. They always did. Even Aurynn, as wary as she’d been: she half-smiled at the answer.
“How long?” Idris asked.
“Hopefully before my sisters figure out how to kill me.”
Enaelle flinched. Rayick blanched but recovered with a laugh. “Any word on when that’ll be?”
I let a shadow of my amusement show and did another practiced shrug. “Not yet, but I’m sure the messengers have had trouble finding this place.”
“Give them a hell of a tip when they show up,” Wesley said as he got up and stepped over Rayick’s sprawled legs and my discarded bag, pausing in the doorway. “Any more plans to use me as target practice?”
“Not today, but if you’d like, I can brush up on my cleaning and skinning skills,” I said with a sweet smile over my shoulder, holding out a hand. “Give it back.”
He scowled and tossed me the jewel he’d slipped into his pocket, earning a loud laugh from Rayick. “Have fun with her, Kye,” he muttered, marching into the tunnels. One corner of Kye’s mouth curled in response, but nothing more.
I stood, smoothing my skirt. “I’m going out alone, actually. I’ll see what more I can do with the magic.” I could have asked for more information, but not with all of them sitting there. One on one—that would be better. Easier to get it from them.
Time alone in the forest, to play with the strangeness of my magic, would do me as much good as well.
“Do you want someone to keep an eye out for you?” Rayick asked as I slung my bag on my shoulder and stood. As I’d known he would; either he’d been well-trained in chivalry or he was a natural gentleman. I gave him a smile I’d learned from Tulia years ago: soft to reassure him I was that damsel in distress he’d saved, but with an edge to show I could take care of myself. To keep him from following.
“I’ll be alright. But thank you.”
I got a chorus of easy goodbyes, and I paused a step from the doorway, the event circling through my mind. When was the last time that had happened? Never? Goodbyes in Acalta were choreographed and rehearsed.
It wasn’t as if I was one of them. Not really. It wasn’t as if I was staying. Maybe I wouldn’t return to the noble squares, but I wouldn’t stay here. Not for any longer than necessary.
The bite of the wind cleared the thought. I walked past the hidden traps. There was nothing but the trees, stretching for miles, and the sky through the skeletal branches. I watched, making sure I was alone—no eagles or foxes spying from a distance, no lurking dangers waiting for a chance to strike—and then closed my eyes and forced the tension from my shoulders.
The wind made the bare branches creak and the pine needles scrape, a whispery melody. I listened to it as my fingertips grew numb and something in my chest echoed with rippling movements. Like it could dance to the sound of winter.
I didn’t touch it. Not yet. It stretched and stirred awake, and I reached for the magic buried in the frozen earth. It was what witches drew their power from; it had to be what this strange new power in me started as. Whether it had come from pure survival instinct or something else, witches didn’t possess power like that themselves. It had to have attached itself to me, or I to it. But no hum or pulse of the forest met me. Placidity. Silence.
I could have screamed.
It was so easy in the summer. Bright and strong and racing everywhere . Why anybody celebrated the winter, I couldn’t imagine. It was dead. Absolutely dead.
I drew a breath to cool my temper and tried again. Slower. Easing my touch, coaxing it. A sliver brushed along my toes, a thin wisp of what I’d found when the wolves had been on me, but nothing more. As soon as I stretched toward it, it vanished.
A curse dashed from me, unbidden. Unladylike, but nobody was around to hear.
The wind picked up, whipping loose strands of hair around my face, and I twisted my face to the sky. Dark clouds rolled on the horizon—not here yet, but on their way. One last attempt, and if it didn’t go well I’d move my practice inside.
I stood as the magic kindled in my chest again, inching its way through my veins. So slow. I listened to the wind, the rustling of the forest, the frozen, sluggish heartbeat of the trees and snow and dirt.
Static stung and nipped at my fingertips. Ice crawled up my legs. Both pushed at me, like the wrong sides of two magnets. If they would meet, I would know. Know what this was, what I could do with it. What it meant.
Nalcai, I’m not sure you’re who I imagined you were, but you are the patron of magic. Let me control this.
A caress of a breeze on my cheek. What will you give me, child?
My eyes snapped open. I was alone with the wind. The words had been imagined. They had to have been.
The magics collided, like one of the magnets had been flipped. A shock flooded every inch of me, shuddering through my blood and bones—and then a snap that drove a lone bird into the air and echoed in the emptiness like a scream.
The tree beside me pitched, branches waving. I scrambled back, throat closing on a scream of my own, tripping and stumbling over my feet as I rushed to avoid the traps. None of them snapped around my ankles, and I managed to get inches from the nearest branches as the tree crashed to the ground, snow flying through the air. The force knocked me onto my backside, and I sat there, staring, gasping for breath as my mind raced to work out what just happened.
Whatever this was in me, it was destructive. And temperamental.
A whispered, ghostly laugh floated on the wind. Before I knew if it was real, it was gone.
Then a very real and solid laugh sounded behind me. I jumped and twisted to see Kye ducking through the plants hiding the entrance, hovering inches from where shadow met sunlight. “Did you mean to do that?”
I got my feet beneath me and brushed snow from the fur of my cloak. Straightened my skirt. When I was sure my heartbeat had settled and I could speak without a tremor, I answered, “Did I mean to knock a tree down? No. As I said, magic can be finnicky. Particularly in the winter. This place is…dead. It makes it more difficult to work with.”
“Dead?”
“The forest. It feels dead.”
Their smile faded, and they watched me in that quiet, careful way they had, like they were trying to piece something together and I held the answer they needed. I met their gaze and wondered what they would look like in the sun.
“Idris insists you come in,” they said. “He says he feels a storm coming.”
“I can handle a storm.”
“I’m sure you can.”
I looked at the sky again. The storm clouds were there, but the pale winter-blue sky shone strong. “It’s far off yet. We have time.”
“Time for what?”
“That’s the one thing I like about this forest, Kye. Time to do whatever I choose.”
An amused little smirk ticked into place. “Forests don’t run on clocks and bells. Not like Acalta.”
I moved closer. “Have you been to Acalta?”
“Twice. I wasn’t fond of it.”
“To the noble squares?”
Their expression flickered, blunt and daring. “How do you think I afforded travel out of the city?”
I lifted one eyebrow, mocking shock. “How dastardly of you. I never saw you.”
“That was the idea.”
“I wonder, Kye Emris, if you ever stole anything from my family.”
There was a foot between us, and they lowered their voice. “Tell me your family name and I’ll tell you.”
“Not a chance under the Lady’s skies.”
“Are you afraid of what would come of your family, should it get out they’re related to a witch?”
“I told you, I’m not afraid of many thi
ngs. A lady is entitled to her secrets.”
“What a strange choice of secrets you keep, Neyva.”
I stopped with the toes of my boots at the shadow’s edge. Sunlight slanting across me and shadow across them. “I wonder,” I whispered. “Could you step into a storm without changing shape, or is it this shelter that keeps you human?”
A muscle in their jaw twitched, but they didn’t break my gaze. “I’ve never tried.”
“Why not?”
“Rain and feathers don’t go well together.”
I glanced to the feathers woven through their hair, the dark golden hint of them in earthy brown. An unsettling sight. “Difficult to fly?”
“I prefer clear skies.”
I took another tiny step, so close their breath mingled with mine. Our eyes stayed tied, their honey color boring through mine. “And that, Kye, is why you’re cursed.”
Kye said nothing as I stepped into the flickering shadows of the tunnels and headed for my cave. When looked back, as I rounded the first corner, they were gone. Flown off or vanished down one of the other winding paths.
I was halfway to my hollow when Rayick met me, jerking his head for me to follow him. I almost ignored the request, but veered to fall into step beside him. “I’m under orders from Aurynn and Enaelle to make sure all our food is somewhere dry and secure. Wesley vanished before he could be forced into helping, so looks like I’m down to you.”
“Where’s Aurynn?”
“Being cranky. Be glad we aren’t in her warpath, and pity Idris and Tam for being the poor bastards who are.”
“She doesn’t like storms?” I guessed.
“Hates them, and makes sure we know it.”
We walked in silence, and I cast Rayick a look. We were alone, there was no better time to try to find another piece of the puzzle. If I was going to be stuck inside for the duration of this storm, I might as well use it to do something productive.
“Enaelle said it was a job,” I commented. “What got you cursed.”
“It was.” A pause, and then, “What else did she tell you?”
“That there was a village full of scared children, but that’s it. She said that you each had a part and it wouldn’t be right to tell anybody’s but her own.”
“You want to know my part?”
“I want to understand where the curse came from. What could help me break it.”
I wondered if he’d answer. They all were hesitant when it came to their curse. Rayick was the most open, and after a beat of silence he sighed. “I may be able to handle a sword, but I don’t like to fight. I never have. There are people, though, who can’t fight for themselves. Can’t protect themselves. And I’ll gladly fight for them.”
I considered that as we reached the food stores. “You protected the children?”
“The night it happened I watched the children. Made sure they were shut away safe in their homes and that they stayed there until it was done.”
“That doesn’t sound worthy of a curse.”
“Did you know bears will kill their cubs?” he asked. I shook my head. “If the conditions are too harsh, a bear will eat its own cubs rather than starve. They’re viciously protective of their young, and yet will betray them.”
I studied the edges of the cave, free from any moisture I could find. I doubted the storm would bring any leaks or flooding here. “Enaelle is a snake for passing on secrets, and you’re a bear for protecting the children—I assume in some way this witch managed to twist.” Idris was their leader, and I could assume his fox form came from his role as the mastermind behind this fateful job. But the others were a mystery to me. “What in the Lady’s name did Wesley do to get stuck as a raccoon?”
Rayick barked a laugh as Wesley muttered behind us, “I’m a thief. I’ll give you three guesses.”
“Came to help for once?” Rayick asked.
“After I got yelled at. You should move everything to the higher end, just in case,” he nodded toward where the uneven floor slanted upward.
“We, you mean,” Rayick muttered, but got to work.
“Do you get flooding in the winter?” I asked, lifting a basket of apples.
Wesley shrugged. “Not really, but there are creeks near some of the back tunnels. The water isn’t always frozen over. We’ve gotten some in the past.”
The silence sat while we moved the baskets of vegetables and fruits to the highest edge of the cave, ducking beneath the meat hung from the rough ceiling. I asked, “So what did you do, Wesley, go off to steal some shiny trinkets while everybody else was busy fighting mysterious monsters?”
He shrugged, but something in his expression was off. “No shiny trinkets out of that place. I stole something more valuable than that.”
“What?”
“Something I’ll never try to steal again.” I knew from the short and clipped tone that was the end of the conversation.
I was alright with that. I didn’t want to know what he’d stolen, anyway.
The wind echoed in every nook and cranny of the tunnels like an angry beast lurking around the corner. I tried not to imagine what this strange new magic of mine would think if I let it listen. No, I threw my thoughts into the magic I knew I could control. The familiar, easy power in my plants and wax and tiny flames. Wisps of smoke curled into the air, filling my hollow with the earthy scent of burning leaves. I felt eyes on me as I scattered the crumbled, blackened pieces, halfway to ash, along the floor of the opening, but didn’t look up. The toes of an all-too-familiar pair of boots were visible on the other side.
“Magic?” Kye guessed. I nodded. “I won’t be changed into a rat or a lizard if I cross, will I?”
“No.” I raised my head. “But I never said you could cross.”
“Do I need permission to avoid being cursed again?”
“No, you need permission if you want to follow basic manners.”
They leaned on the far wall, keeping a respectful—or cautious—distance, but watched me work. “Wesley said you didn’t need tools when you worked magic on him, but you carry those little jars of plants.” The question was implied.
I focused on ensuring the line was smooth and unbroken. “I don’t always. Things like this require tools. I’m using their magic, not my own. My magic lets me…speak to theirs, you could say.”
“What are you using?”
“Comfrey and caraway for protection. The fire for strength.”
“Are you that worried about us trying to hurt you?”
“I’ve had protections in place from my first night here,” I nudged the last piece into position and straightened. “But no, I’m not worried about any of you. It’s the storm.”
They looked at the ceiling, as if they could see the ice flying outside through the stone and dirt. “The storm shouldn’t cause any damage.”
“Storms always bring trouble, one way or another. Any witch worth her magic knows that.”
Their gaze wandered to me, something flickering in their eyes. “The witches aren’t wrong.”
The silence fell for too long, both of us watching each other. I swallowed and stepped aside, gesturing with the candle in one hand. “It’s warmer in here. No curse for crossing.”
“No lecture on manners, either?” they asked, quirking an eyebrow. I fought a smile and shook my head, and they stepped across the line. I tucked the candle into one of the dusty glass lanterns Rayick had insisted I keep and sat on my bedroll. Kye sat against the wall opposite me, as far as they could get. Which wasn’t very far here.
It was warmer, and less eerie than in the tunnels, where the few lanterns lit trembled, and the lights were far between. The shadows were long and the air icy. The magic across the entrance didn’t create a true barrier, but it felt like it might—an isolated pocket where the fires warmed everything and brought a friendly glow. Not a draft entered.
We sat, listening to the wind, where I knew it was tearing at tree roots and icicles and our poor traps, which would be ruined by
morning. Kye asked, “What did you mean when you said I’m cursed because I prefer clear skies?”
I looked to the dark tunnels. “Why do you think you’re cursed?”
“I know why I’m cursed, and it has nothing to do with that.”
“Why are you cursed, then, Kye?”
A pause, and then, “I’m cursed because I let the thing I hate most about myself take over, and it caused damage.”
I didn’t bother asking what that was or what damage it had caused. Kye might not have secrets, but I knew better than to touch a topic like that if I wanted to know more. With this storm in the air and the little space between us, it would lead to disaster. I said, “You keep quiet unless you’re sure of the perfect thing to say. You don’t lie and you don’t keep secrets. You’re afraid of getting anybody hurt, directly or indirectly. You like clear skies, and not just when it comes to the weather. But nobody can live with clear skies all the time.”
“Is it wrong to be careful? To want people to be safe?”
“No.” I drew a breath that wasn’t as steady as I wished it was. “No, it’s not. But sometimes there’s danger. Sometimes there’s chaos. Sometimes there’s darkness. When you embrace it, you can handle it. When you don’t…sometimes it gets you.”
“I’ve embraced plenty of darkness, Neyva,” they replied in a whisper. I glanced at their tattoos, their scars, but tore my gaze away before I lingered too long.
“What was it like, to fight there?” I stared straight at the shadows beyond the line of burnt herbs.
Kye did the same, shoulders stiffening. “Fight where?”
The tone made it clear it was a question to answer with care—an offer to change the topic. I didn’t. “Fight in the North.”
The silence went on for a long time. Then they sighed, and their answer came softly. So often they preferred to keep quiet, and I was beginning to wonder if they were uncomfortable drawing attention to themselves, if they really did choose every word with precision, or if there was something else behind it.
“It was hell,” they said, and silence returned. When I couldn’t find a way to reply, they continued. “We were trained, of course. A brutal training. And when we were sent to fight…it was day after day of it. No rest. No healing if we needed it—if you were injured, you dealt with it yourself or you let it kill you. There were no other options. Some days the ice would be soaked red, where you could see it for the bodies.”
The Ruin of Snow Page 15
