Snowspelled: Volume I of The Harwood Spellbook

by Stephanie Burgis

  But I felt a core of unbreakable ice building up inside me, shoving aside the softer, warmer—weaker—feelings that had been creeping furtively back into their old familiar places in the last half hour of forced proximity.

  I would not make myself so vulnerable again.

  “If it was a human,” I told the elf lord, ice coating my words, “then we will find him. You may depend upon it.”

  Wrexham stirred beside me. “Harwood—”

  “Fine,” I snapped, without sparing him a glance. “I’ll find him myself, then. I was the one to make the binding promise. I should be the one to fulfill it.”

  “Indeed you must,” said the elf lord, “or pay the price. And the promise that you made, as I recall, was hardly so narrow-minded as only to protect my pet if the malefactor happened to be human.”

  I frowned. “But—”

  “You can’t be serious!” Wrexham’s voice was a near-snarl, his shoulders hunching as if he were having to force himself to stay in place. “You know none of us are allowed into your private halls. How can you possibly expect her to hunt for a criminal there?”

  “Oh, I certainly don’t.” The elf-lord laughed. “But then, I never forced her to make that foolish promise, did I?”

  In that moment, he was every man who had ever laughed out loud in disbelief when he’d heard that I wished to learn magic and every woman who had ever raised her eyebrows in pity...or whispered afterward, when she’d thought I couldn’t hear, that she’d always known this would come of it in the end. The blood was thundering in my ears as I glared at him, and the snow swirled wildly around us, as if it could sense the raw disorder in my chest, where every one of my scabbed wounds had been torn wide open and exposed to the pitiless cold air.

  “I will keep my promise,” I told him, enunciating every word with precision.

  The elf lord tipped his head to the side, as if preparing another verbal stab.

  Wrexham spoke first, though, his voice so steady that anyone who didn’t know him well might have missed the thread of deadly fury running underneath his words. “She has another promise that needs keeping first. We’ve been sent out to search for a lost party of guests. Before any of us can begin another mission—”

  “Oh, them?” The elf lord shook his head sadly. “Poor little lost lambs. You people are careless, aren’t you? Do you know they weren’t even carrying any iron with them on their journey?” His glance shifted and lingered for one, visibly amused moment on the frame of my broken lantern, lying uselessly on the ground nearby.

  Sudden panic gripped me as I followed his gaze. Horror stories were still passed down, after all these centuries, about the vicious games that the elves had once loved to play with unprotected humans, before the last, most devastating war had finally bought us the hard-won treaty between our nations. The elves wouldn’t dare break that treaty now, after so long—would they?

  But if Miss Fennell’s party had broken one of the treaty’s more obscure rules in some way, without realizing...

  I didn’t need to understand the finer details of elven politics to know, without a fraction of a doubt, that the elf lord in front of me would leap at the opportunity for punishment.

  “What have you done to them?” I breathed.

  Every inch of my body ached to cast a spell that would banish the smugness from his face. But it would be a Pyrrhic victory indeed that left me lying broken in the snow—and at his mercy—afterward.

  “I?” The elf lord raised both eyebrows in haughty reproach. “Why, I couldn’t lay a finger on them, under the terms of our agreement. Our noble king would never hear of such a thing.” His lips twisted into a sneer. “Wasn’t it fortunate, then, that I found you, little meddler, as a reward for my good behavior?”

  I sucked in a breath. Wrexham started forward.

  The elf lord lifted one hand and clicked his fingers.

  The spellcast bubble around me burst, and snow hurled itself against me, flinging wet, choking handfuls of flakes into my face until I had to bend over, gagging and coughing, covering my nose and my mouth with my hands. My ears were half-covered by my hood, but it wasn’t enough as the snow and wind buffeted me. It wasn’t nearly enough. And then...

  I could just make out the muffled sound of Wrexham’s voice somewhere in the distance, loud and agitated. But in my head, a slithering, unwelcome invasion, I could suddenly hear the elf lord’s own piercing whisper:

  “You have one se’ennight from the completion of your first mission to keep your promise to my pet, little meddler. But when you fail, I’ll be waiting here to exact your payment—and this time, no one from my nation or yours will be able to deny me. Oh, I’ve been waiting such a long time to play my favorite games again.”

  The snow and wind abruptly fell away from me. In the sudden, deafening silence inside my own head, my breath came in heavy pants. Every bruise on my body ached. Slowly, painfully, I straightened, blinking the leftover wet, stinging snowflakes out of my eyes.

  The elf lord was gone. My spellcast bubble was back. And Wrexham was staring at me from a few feet away, his dark eyes wide with what looked like surprise.

  Or rather... Wait. His gaze was fixed beyond me. At...

  I twisted, uncomfortably, to look over my own shoulder.

  “Oh, I say!” The tallest of the four young women who stood clustered behind me in a rather damp-looking but festive group laughed with delight and pointed up at the troll, who stood massive and unmoving against the darkening sky. “He’s quite a big brute, isn’t he? I shouldn’t care to run afoul of him!”

  I sighed, shoulders sagging, as I took in the elf lord’s parting gift. “Miss Fennell, I presume.”

  Wrexham had, after all, told the elf lord that I couldn’t begin my next mission before my last one was complete...so the elf lord had completed it for me.

  How terribly, terribly helpful of him.

  Miss Fennell grinned as she took us in. “Come to rescue us, have you? Sent by my cousin, I assume? Very decent of you, really!”

  “Indeed,” I said sourly, trying not to take in Wrexham’s expression. “Your cousin was worried about you.”

  ...And an hour earlier, I would have deeply relished the idea of being the one to find Lady Cosgrave’s missing cousin, without using any magic along the way.

  Somehow, though, in the wake of the elf lord’s visit, it didn’t feel like quite the victory I’d hoped for after all.

  There was no out-striding Miss Fennell and her friends. Young, rowdy, cheerful, slightly tipsy, and all of them apparently untouched by their experience, they surrounded us in a laughing, jostling group that—all too soon—resulted in the inevitable idea of a jolly sing-song to speed our way home.

  I tried to speed my own footsteps, but it was no use. Miss Fennell looped one arm through mine and matched me step for step, heavy traveling skirts swishing about her boots, while she sang at the top of her impressively strong lungs. Wrexham had done her and her friends the basic courtesy of spelling them safety from the elements as well, so even my secret fantasy of snow falling into her open mouth was thwarted.

  ...Not that she could truly be considered to blame for all of this afternoon’s mishaps, I admitted sourly to myself as we marched across the snowy landscape, our party’s merry yodeling echoing loudly around the hills.

  Still, so much youthful exuberance was difficult to bear with an aching body and an uncomfortable new set of regrets.

  I wasn’t looking forward to admitting to Amy all that had occurred out here this afternoon. Worse yet, I could tell that Wrexham was only waiting to give me his own opinion on the matter.

  That, at least, I could prevent. As he edged closer through the crowd of cheerful travelers, his dark brows bent forbiddingly, I jerked Miss Fennell forward and grasped the arm of her closest friend—one Miss Banks—with my free hand.

  “There!” I said brightly. “Now we’re joined in a chain!”

  “Ha! Delightful.” Miss Fennell beamed.

  H
er friend, a slighter girl with pale skin flushed pink with either excitement or alcohol, and what looked like fine blonde hair beneath her hood, smiled shyly at me from our newly intimate vantage point...and then her eyes widened in sudden recognition.

  “Oh. Oh! Are you—? That is...”

  Oh no. I felt Wrexham’s wry gaze on the back of my neck as he dropped back to wait just behind me.

  There would be no escape if I released her arm now. But even my lack of answer had been too much of a hint, apparently.

  “You are Cassandra Harwood, aren’t you?” she breathed. “Oh, I knew it! I’ve been so hoping to meet you. I have so many questions I’ve been dying to ask you, all about what happened to you this summer!”

  Oh, damnation.

  Cursing my life, my ex-fiancé and myself in equal measure, I smiled ferociously at my young interrogator and kept her arm tightly trapped in mine. “Of course,” I said. “But not right now. It’s time to sing!”

  And with my ex-fiancé following every step, I sang furiously all the way to Cosgrave Manor.

  5

  In the flurry of greetings that met us at the door, I was finally able to detach myself from young Miss Banks, using the pretext of disposing of my outerwear. A quick duck and a dive behind the group of gathered visitors all exclaiming and commenting upon our arrival, a careful swerve past the servants hovering behind them, and I was free of my would-be questioner...

  ...But my ex-fiancé fell smoothly into step beside me. “May I take your coat?” he inquired sardonically.

  “Certainly,” I told him, and tossed Jonathan’s greatcoat straight at his chest. Then I spun away on one heel of Lady Cosgrave’s excellent boots and strode across the blue-and-gold-tiled floor of the entry hall as quickly as I could.

  With his annoyingly long legs, Wrexham had no difficulty keeping up, but at least he couldn’t grasp my elbow to stop me with both of his arms full of thickly piled coat. “Harwood—!” he began, in a near-snarl.

  “Ah, there you are!” Someone far more frightening stood before us: my sweet, smiling sister-in-law, waiting for me in the open archway between me and the rest of the house. Her bright gaze moved from me to my ex-fiancé. Her eyebrows rose. Her mouth dropped open to form an “O” of delight that filled me with instant and overwhelming dread.

  “No!” I said hastily. “No, we haven’t reconciled. And we’re certainly not going to! In point of fact, I can’t even speak to anyone at all anymore. I’m—I’m terribly, terribly tired. From my exertions. I think I need a nap.”

  “Cowardly, Harwood,” Wrexham muttered. “An unworthy move.”

  I winced but stood my ground.

  Amy’s eyes narrowed as she studied me. “You do look tired,” she said. “I’d better show you to your room.”

  “You needn’t—” I began, just as Wrexham said, “Mrs. Harwood, if you please—”

  “The servants,” she told me firmly, “are all occupied, and you couldn’t possibly find it on your own. As for you, Mr. Wrexham...” She gave my ex-fiancé a firm nod. “I’m sure we’ll both be delighted to speak with you later.”

  “Delighted,” he said wryly, and bowed deeply before turning away without any further argument.

  My mouth dropped open in outrage as I stared after him.

  If Wrexham actually possessed the heretofore-unseen ability to recognize an impossible battle when he saw one...then why had he never been intimidated out of arguing by me?

  But there was no time to fathom the depths of that injustice as Amy tucked a firm hand into the crook of my arm and swept me, simmering, through the archway. She chatted happily all the way as she led me up a curving set of stairs, the walls beside it lined by stately portraits of the many women who’d proudly led the Cosgrave family and the nation itself through the centuries. Every one of the Ladies Cosgrave, judging by the weighty gold-and-silver torcs painted around all of their necks, had been a member of the Boudiccate in her own turn...and it was impossible, as I passed that grand and glowering procession, not to be entirely aware of my own bruised and disordered appearance and generally unwomanly lack of dignity by comparison.

  Even my own mother, by the end, had given up on my ever following in her famous path. Still, it had been rather easier to stand strong in that recollection four months earlier, before I’d failed in the vocation for which I’d given up her shining legacy and pride.

  “...And of course,” Amy continued as she swept me off the staircase and down a branching corridor lit by warm, expensive fey-lights set in spellbound sconces along the wall, “there are all the latest troubles with the elves to complicate matters, and—”

  “What?” I stopped abruptly, tugging her to a halt along with me.

  Amy’s eyes widened as she looked at me. “My goodness, Cassandra, I didn’t imagine you were actually listening to me. I’ve never known you to be interested in politics before!”

  I forced myself to unclench my jaw and suck in a deep breath. “What were you saying about the elves, exactly?”

  “Surely you must have heard—well. No. You haven’t been following the news lately, have you?” She looked pained at her own misstep.

  I gave her arm a bracing squeeze. “Oh come now, Amy. You know perfectly well I was never a great reader of newspapers even before...what happened.” No, I’d been far too consumed with my own magical pursuits beforehand, and afterward...well. “You needn’t worry about any tender feelings on my part,” I said briskly. “Only explain to me what’s been happening.”

  She sighed and tugged me with her along the corridor, leaning into my side and lowering her voice as we walked. “It’s more what hasn’t happened, actually. The elves send a representative each year at the end of Samhain, when the fairies make their great pilgrimage underground. At least one elf always stands beside an officer of the Boudiccate to jointly light the fairies’ passage.”

  “And?” I glanced instinctively at the closest spellbound sconce on the wall nearby. The fey-light there burned golden-bright, illuminating the leaping horse pattern of the mosaic art along the wall in a warm, caressing glow...but of course that was little rational comfort; it would continue to burn regardless of its creator’s fate. Like fey-silk (soft as butterflies’ wings, the advertisements always claimed), fey-lights cost the earth, and for good reason. They lasted for years with no need for renewal, even during the darker turnings of the year when the unpredictable fairies themselves were safely contained underground.

  “This year, no representative from the elven court arrived.” Amy’s face tightened, fine white lines of tension showing beneath her warm brown skin. “The elven king sent his regrets instead, and his best wishes.”

  “And...?” I frowned, thinking of the icy elf-lord I’d just faced. “That sounds like the best possible outcome, I should think. If you can keep the elves’ friendship without being afflicted with their company—”

  “Oh, really, Cassandra!” Amy shook her head at me, unaccustomed exasperation leaking into her voice. “I know you’ve spent most of your life fighting not to be drawn into politics, but just this once, take a moment to actually think about it. They haven’t missed that ceremony for four hundred years! It was either a deliberate snub, in which case our treaty is in grave danger—or else a sign that their own court is in such disarray that he didn’t trust any one of his courtiers to meet with us in public this year.”

  “I see.” I nibbled at my lower lip. What was it that the elf-lord had said to defend himself against the charge of kidnapping? “Our noble king would never hear of such a thing.” But his tone...

  “So we might have the king’s best wishes, but not his nobles’.”

  “We might,” Amy agreed grimly. “In which case, we are in very dangerous waters indeed.” My gentle sister-in-law’s face was, for once, set in forbidding lines—not the usual warm, loving expression of my affectionate sister-in-all-but-blood, but that of a woman of certain power and intellect...who should, if luck and justice prevailed, be selected as th
e newest member of the Boudiccate the very next time an opening arose.

  She should have been granted my mother’s seat, as I myself would have been if matters had gone as planned by the older generation—but there was no time to meditate on that old injustice now as Amy continued:

  “Without being allowed entrance to their halls, we can’t do any more than guess at what might be happening inside them. But our last ambassador returned to her family at the turning of the summer solstice, and they haven’t authorized a new one since.”

  She stopped at a white-paneled door and turned its bronze handle—shaped as a leaping stag in tribute to the male Cosgraves’ own magical contributions to the family history—as she spoke. “Oh, they don’t say that they’ve closed their court to us entirely—they couldn’t, without breaking the treaty—but they’ve come up with one excuse after another ever since. One ambassador is too young, another is too old; it’s simply impossible to make any decisions until a certain elven courtier returns from his travels...”

  She stepped aside, ushering me before her into a warm, white-and-gold room with a canopied bed, a large window facing out onto the snowy darkness, and a giant allegorical painting of Boudicca’s victory hanging on the wall over the fireplace.

  “But,” she finished, closing the door firmly behind her, “they all end with the same result. We have no ambassador in their court; we know something is amiss but don’t know what; and poor Lady Cosgrave is preparing to host the winter solstice now with no idea whether our allies will even bother to attend the very ceremony that’s meant to seal our alliance for another year.”

  “Ah.” My gaze slipped to the glass window and the darkness beyond, where the elf-lord and his troll both waited...somewhere. “So.” I took a breath. “It’s rather important, then, that we not do anything to offend them at this point.”

  “Cassandra!” Amy let out a startled burst of laughter. “How can you even jest about such a thing? It’s no laughing matter!”