The Ruin of Snow

by Lacy Sheridan

  “I should go,” I whispered, every word painful. “Before the others are up.”

  “No goodbyes?” Kye’s voice made my throat constrict.

  “Goodbyes make things worse.”

  “Did this make it worse?” they asked, pulling back to look at me. I forced myself to look at them when all I wanted was to forget their face.

  “Much worse. I still have to leave, Kye. It’s not safe for any of you while I’m here.”

  “I told you, we can handle ourselves.”

  “Enaelle is dead because I stayed.”

  “It’s not your fault.” When I said nothing, they pushed my chin back up. “It’s not, Neyva. She knew what might happen if she went to help you, and she was good enough to go anyway. I miss her, and I wish it hadn’t happened like that, but it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I hesitated—”

  Their voice was fierce when they cut me off, and though normally I would have raged against being interrupted, it silenced me. “Never feel guilty about hesitating to kill someone. Being a witch doesn’t make you inhuman.”

  I couldn’t look at them, and they didn’t try to stop me from staring at the stone wall. “What if it does?”

  A beat of silence, and their answer was quiet, careful. “It does if you choose to let it. Whatever you are, whoever your family is, you get that choice. Nobody else.”

  At the mention of my family, I sighed and fell into the blankets keeping the chill of the ground at bay, watching Kye. “What gave me away?”

  They traced patterns along the underside of my wrist, my palm, like they were memorizing the shape of them. “I heard enough rumors when I was in Acalta. Your family isn’t well-liked.”

  “No, we aren’t.”

  “I never stole anything from the Morningspells. I didn’t dare. I don’t think even Wesley would if he got the chance.”

  “Smart. We don’t call the guards on thieves; we put them to death ourselves.”

  They focused on where our fingertips touched. “But I considered it. Until I heard that half the city thought you might carry magic. I suspected it as soon as I met you, but I couldn’t be sure. And you were so…different from the stories. From anything I’d ever heard about witches or about the Morningspells. It was the hair stick that told me.”

  “The hair stick?”

  “The first I heard of the Morningspells was a few days after the first time I went to Acalta. I caught a glimpse of a noblewoman wearing it. I don’t think I would have paid any attention if I hadn’t recognized it as a disguised weapon. I was told she was the Lady of the House Morningspell, and that if she wasn’t a witch she was as bad as one. So when Rayick and I found the hair stick, I knew you must be one of them.”

  “You saw my mother.”

  “She didn’t spare me a glance.”

  “She wouldn’t. I thought maybe Aurynn had told you.”

  They frowned. “Aurynn knows?”

  I smiled at their expression. “She figured it out before you did. But then, she knows witching families. Much more impressive connection than yours, actually.”

  They mock-glared. “I’m sorry to disappoint. Maybe you’d prefer Aurynn’s cave, if she’s a better mental match for you.”

  I laughed and traced the line of their jaw, lowering my voice. “Don’t tell me the great, unstoppable warrior of the North is upset they were beaten by a huntress.”

  Kye’s false anger broke with a snort of soft laughter, and they pressed a light kiss to my lips—my knees went weak. What was wrong with me? “She can have the win,” they whispered. “I prefer this.”

  “Do you?”

  “Much prefer.”

  I should have broken this. I should have gotten up and left. But I pulled them the last fraction of an inch closer, and the candlelight flickered and softened. My world narrowed to nothing but Kye’s touch, their breath, their heartbeat. Lean muscle and callouses from work and battle, scars and ink, the crisp, clear smell of winter wind off their skin.

  It had never been like this with Desmond. I had never wanted him near so badly, with this ache for more. I had never been content to sit and listen to his every thought whispered to me. I’d relied on his presence, in a different way than I relied on Kye, and yet he had never made my insides flutter. Not like Kye could with a glance.

  The candlelight shuttered again and the magic in my chest coiled tight. Kye paused, like they could sense it. “What’s wrong?” they whispered, lips grazing my shoulder.

  I didn’t know.

  But I did, and I couldn’t stop a heavy sigh. “You don’t keep secrets,” I said.

  They searched my face. “You can keep whatever secrets are left, Neyva. I’m not asking for them.” They wouldn’t; I knew that. Even if they wanted to know, they wouldn’t ask.

  “I don’t want to keep them from you. I’ve killed, Kye.”

  “I know.”

  “No, I…” I pushed myself upright and wracked my mind for the right words. “I was engaged—or nearly. It was arranged to happen. In Acalta. And I didn’t understand it, but I cared for him, somehow.” Kye blinked, waiting and listening. “I killed him.”

  “Why?” The one little word was so gentle.

  “He betrayed me. Lied to me.” They said nothing, like they knew there was more. I looked away, because I didn’t want them to see my eyes burning. “I don’t regret that he’s out of my life, but I do regret that I let it happen. I was angry and I didn’t know what to do with myself. We aren’t supposed to feel, not so strongly. Not at my age. And that’s why my sisters want me dead. Because I feel. I didn’t…give it up when I was supposed to.”

  “You said I make you feel.”

  “You make it…more intense. Or maybe it’s time or…I don’t know, and I hate it. I don’t know what’s happening to me but it’s wrong and dangerous. We are inhuman, Kye, and we aren’t supposed to be like I am. I refused to give it up but that means I shouldn’t have my magic.”

  Kye echoed, “We?”

  “Witches. Morningspells.”

  “You still count yourself as one of them.”

  I couldn’t read their expression. “Yes. Sometimes. I don’t know. I don’t know what I am anymore. I just know I lived for so many years like them, and I don’t want to be like that again.” Maybe I still was. Maybe I had moments of it. But there were the moments with Kye, the moments of Rayick’s laughter or Aurynn’s fiery eyes, when I wanted to cling to whoever or whatever I was now.

  Half of me braced for some retaliation. Anger or disgust or fear. Rejection. Even disappointment that my secret was not what they’d expected or wanted to hear. After an excruciatingly quiet moment, Kye tucked a stray curl behind my ear and said, “Then don’t.”

  I shook my head and ripped myself away before I could change my mind, standing and adjusting my skewed dress. “It’s not that easy.”

  Kye followed. “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t control my magic like this!” I shouted, whirling to face them. Too much writhing in me, too much confusion and fear and want and grief. I was too tired to sort through it, and I raked both hands through my hair, taking a deep breath and lowering my voice. “Witches aren’t supposed to be like this. There’s a reason everybody is terrified of us. And sure, maybe sometimes it’s worked to my advantage, but I can’t guarantee it will every time. Not anymore. Even if my sisters don’t use any of you against me, you could get caught in the middle. I could hurt one of you next time if they don’t. The one way to keep that from happening might be to…become like them. It’s like some sick joke the Lady’s throwing at me.”

  “You can’t be in control of everything, Neyva. Some things you have to have faith in.”

  “Maybe, but my magic is not one of them.”

  “So you’re going to stop feeling? Be like your family?”

  “No. That’s why I left, but…” I shook my head. “There are too many reasons why it’s better if I go. I’m sorry, Kye.” I paused to take them in one last time,
“I hope you get out of here and find somewhere better one day.”

  I grabbed my things and turned to go but froze when I saw Wesley hovering near the entrance, eyes wide and half-dazed. My heart might have stopped as we stood there in startled silence, and then continued walking. Without a word, he made himself clear; I could feel the anger radiating from him.

  I pressed my lips together, looked at my boots to steady myself, and then moved onward.

  Kye said nothing.

  I wanted it not to hurt.

  Every step I took toward the little hidden entrance felt heavier. I wondered if I could find it again, if I managed to beat my sisters and mother. Maybe I would come back, make good on my word to break their curse if it wasn’t too late. Or maybe I wouldn’t, let them forget and move on. That might be better.

  And if I did decide not to return? Would some other witch be willing to save them, or would I be damning them to it?

  Not your problem, Neyva. Not anymore.

  I paused halfway there, staring in the direction Wesley had gone. Maybe I could make one thing a little better before I left.

  You’ve wasted enough time. Go.

  I turned in that direction, walking the way he’d gone. It was cold and dark here, none of the scattered lanterns lit. I slowed until my eyes adjusted and then stopped at the opening to where he stored his things. He sat against one wall, fiddling with something that might have been scrap metal.

  “What do you want, witch?”

  “I have a name,” I said. He ignored me and tossed the object across the floor. I considered sitting, as well, but thought better of it, “I thought I should talk to you before I left.”

  That got me the slightest, fleeting bit of a glance from the corner of his eye. “You’re leaving?”

  “After this.”

  “Well don’t let me stop you.”

  “I’m sorry about Enaelle.”

  “You said that already. It’s been noted.”

  “I miss her, too.”

  “You didn’t know her,” he snapped.

  I winced. I looked around the cave, at the piles stacked at the edges. Stones, wood, leather, metal that might have come from trinkets or objects that had been deemed useless. “I didn’t know her like you did,” I agreed. “But I knew she was kind and welcoming, and even with nothing to work with one of the greatest cooks I’ve ever met.” Wesley huffed a breath that might have been reluctant, half-genuine amusement. “And I wish I’d had more time to know her better.”

  “She liked you,” he muttered. “And you got her killed.”

  I blinked. “I could have stopped it. I didn’t know what would happen.”

  “That doesn’t change what did happen.”

  “I know. I know. I know how you felt about her—”

  “Is that why you’re with Kye the night after she was killed in front of you?” he demanded. His eyes were red-rimmed, dark bags beneath them, like he had slept as much as I had. Heat crept up my neck and I looked away. I didn’t have an excuse, and I hadn’t thought about it like that until I’d seen him. It wasn’t fair, and it was the worst timing possible, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it now.

  “Yesterday was…a very bad day,” I managed.

  “I’m glad to know you found some comfort.” His voice was like a knife.

  “I’m sorry, for everything about how this has gone.”

  “So, what, you’ve come here to get me to forgive you so you can leave with a clear conscience?”

  Was that it? If Wesley forgave me, I could forget about it and focus on my family? Maybe it was part of it, but not all. I shook my head. “No, I…I wanted to leave knowing you would be alright.”

  “How noble of you.”

  “I’m trying, Wesley. I’m not used to having…people I care about.” The phrase felt strange in my mouth. Wesley was silent. “I don’t know how to do it.”

  His scoff was halfhearted. “You don’t know how to care about people?”

  “I don’t know what you’re supposed to do with them. How to act.” I stared at the floor. Every interaction I’d had my entire life had been practiced and calculated. Always with another purpose. I’d never meant to care about what happened to these people, how they felt—but here we were, and it was like being thrown into stormy, unknown waters.

  “Why are you leaving?” Wesley asked.

  I took a breath. “Because of Enaelle. Because it will happen again.”

  “Then I’d say you’re not doing too bad a job of caring.”

  I nodded. I needed to go, but a goodbye stuck in my throat. It was as I’d told Kye: goodbyes made it worse. I stared at the precarious stacks along the walls and tried to think of how to end this, how to turn around and leave. What came out was, “What are you doing with all of this?”

  He shrugged, picking up a stone beside him and turning it in his hands. “Somebody told me once that everything has magic in it. I figure if the magic is in the things, not the people, why can only witches use it?”

  I folded my arms. “Because we’re born with the ability to touch it.”

  “Maybe other people can learn.”

  “That’s not how magic works.” I turned halfway, determined to leave and rip off the bandage before it got more painful, but then paused. “Are you saying you want to be a witch?”

  “No.” He looked startled by the question. “No, I just want a way out of this. It doesn’t make sense to me that somebody can only touch the magic in an object if they’re born being able to.”

  “It isn’t just in objects. It’s in people, animals. It’s not a matter of figuring out how to touch it, it can be deadly if you don’t know what you’re doing. There’s a reason witches are kept away from other children until we learn.”

  “It’s in people?”

  “It’s in everything.” He wasn’t going to find anything, and the longer I stayed the more dangerous this got. I made it two steps when I stopped again, something in my mind clicking together.

  It was in people.

  “It’s in people,” I breathed.

  I felt Wesley staring at me. “You just said that.”

  “No, Wesley, it’s in people.” I faced him, pulse pounding in my fingertips. “It’s in people. I can touch the magic in people.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I thought we established that, Neyva.”

  I was fighting a grin, because it was the worst time to smile. “No, not that. Who was the first one the curse hit?”

  He looked wary, “Tamsin, I think. Why?”

  I didn’t waste time trying to find an answer, I darted toward the main cave, where they had to be scrounging for some sort of breakfast by now. I didn’t think that I was stalling my plan to leave again—I could do both. Save them on two levels.

  Maybe. Just maybe.

  I dumped every one of my sparse belongings on the ground, smoothing my skirt as I knelt. I didn’t have the supplies that could break a curse—but maybe I didn’t need as many as I’d thought. Maybe I could use something else.

  Tamsin eyed them as he sat across from me. “What are you going to do with them?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” I admitted. “But I’m thinking.”

  “If you don’t know yet, why am I here? And why me and not anybody else?”

  “Because the curse rooted in you first.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “So?”

  “Why?”

  He hesitated, and his voice was quieter. “I don’t know, because I was there?”

  I studied a leaf. “What do you mean?”

  “I spoke to the witch. I was there when she worked the curse. That’s all.”

  There was more—I knew there was—but I didn’t push. “You’ve been scared of me since we met,” I commented. Tamsin avoided my eyes. “You’ve figured out by now that I don’t want to hurt any of you, right?”

  “I’ve figured, yes.”

  I let that sit and worked in the silence. Tamsin did the same. Then I asked, “W
hy are you afraid of magic?”

  Still silence. I kept thinking, not breaking, not looking at him. It stretched so long I’d decided he wasn’t going to answer, when he whispered, “There’s a lot to be afraid of when it comes to magic.”

  That was true, on some level, but something in his voice stopped me from saying so. Some hidden tremor he was working to stop. “I’m not the first witch you’ve known, am I?”

  “We all knew the witch who cursed us.”

  “Aside from her.”

  He paused and then shook his head. “I met one where I was born. When I was living on the streets.”

  “Who?”

  “I never knew her name. I just saw her. She…” He gnawed on his lower lip. “I was eight, I think. She’d been caught. Was going to be burned.” I flinched. “The way she fought off the guards was…feral. Like an animal, not a person. Some of us were watching from an alley—we shouldn’t have been, but we were curious. None of us had ever seen a witch before. She looked at us as they dragged her past, looked each of us in the eyes, and the look on her face…” He shook his head.

  “Did she hurt you?”

  “No. Just looked. But we ran. We were sure she’d come after us, do something to distract the guards, and though we weren’t anybody they cared about—”

  “It’s alright, Tam,” I cut him off, returning to my work. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

  His hands shook, and he tucked them into his lap. “I’ve never gotten the look she gave me out of my mind,” he finished.

  Between that and the curse, it was adequate to make him want to run from any witch. It was no different than most people in Selliira; witches were evil, cruel, vicious. We’d hurt them for no reason if we got the chance. They needed to stay far away, and we needed to be punished if we got too close.

  I needed him, and he needed me, so I lit the candle and set it between us. The reflection of the flame danced in his wide eyes. “Not all witches are good. Most of us aren’t. But I’m different. Very different from them, in more ways than I can really explain to you. I think I can break your curse if you’ll let me try something. But I need you to trust me.”