Snowspelled: Volume I of The Harwood Spellbook

by Stephanie Burgis

  Wrexham dipped his own head low to catch my gaze. “Harwood,” he said firmly. “You know we’re equal partners in every way. It doesn’t matter what any ignorant strangers imagine!”

  “I know.” I sighed. It wasn’t Wrexham’s fault, at least; I knew that much. So I stroked one hand over his warm, smooth-shaven cheek in an apologetic caress before I detached myself again, more firmly this time. “But we won’t be able to be married at all if we don’t sort out this problem first. And we’ll never be able to do that if I can’t—”

  “Good God, will no one ever grant me a single moment of peace and quiet?!” The closest door flew open with a crash, revealing a young man with wild, un-brushed blond hair that stood out around his face like a lion’s mane, and without so much as a vest or a cravat to cover his un-tucked, nearly transparent cotton shirt. “Will I never be allowed to focus in this blasted hellhole?”

  Satisfaction rippled through me.

  I put on my most gracious smile as I stepped unhurriedly away from Wrexham. “Mr. Luton, I presume?”

  “Bah!” He slammed the door shut on both of us. A moment later, I heard the telltale sound of a deadbolt locking into place.

  “Time to get out the pots and pans?” Wrexham suggested wryly.

  “Hardly,” I said. “I have something far more useful.” Turning, I gave him a smirk. “You see, I have an officer of the Boudiccate at my side...and I know exactly what to do with him.”

  It was the work of a moment for Wrexham to spell free the lock. The door swung open a moment later, revealing a room full of chaos, with scattered papers, garments, handkerchiefs, and more covering the floor like a carpet, and Mr. Luton at the end of it all, pacing agitatedly back and forth before his un-curtained window. He stopped in mid-stride to stare at us as I strode into the room and Wrexham gently closed the door behind us.

  “What the hell do you two think you’re about? If you think you can march into a man’s private property—”

  “Lady Cosgrave’s private property, actually,” I said, “and she won’t be happy when she discovers what your work’s done to her political negotiations.”

  “What?” He shook his head impatiently. “Never mind. Just get out! If I don’t get a handle on this soon—”

  “Lost control of the spell, have you?” Wrexham wandered into the center of the room, inspecting the assorted elements with an apparently casual interest. His gaze passed idly across a pile of undergarments and books.

  A stranger would never have been able to pinpoint the moment when he found exactly what he was looking for. But I’d been reading Wrexham’s expressions for years.

  Luton gave a furious start as Wrexham plucked a single piece of paper from the pile. “Don’t you dare touch my notes, you Philistine!”

  “‘The process of bringing about unnatural snow,’” Wrexham read aloud. His eyebrows rose slightly as he read silently down the rest of the page. “Interesting. I wouldn’t have guessed at some of these...”

  “You ignorant ass! You have no idea what you’re talking about. Bloody typical establishment arrogance! Here.” Holding out a peremptory hand, Luton snapped out a spell I recognized—but the paper didn’t budge from Wrexham’s fingers. Instead, as Wrexham continued to read the page with calm concentration, the backfire from Luton’s spell sent the younger man skidding backward across the cluttered floor.

  He had to catch himself on the windowsill behind him...and I didn’t even try to restrain my smug smile as I watched him struggle to recapture his balance while staring at Wrexham with open shock.

  So much for condescending to my fiancé!

  Unlike some magicians, Wrexham had never bothered to brag about his abilities. He didn’t need to. Unlike Luton, he hadn’t had a wealthy family to buy his way into the Great Library—only his own fierce talent and ambition, which had won him his deserved place over other men who were far higher-born and better-connected.

  And it was remarkably satisfying to watch Luton take in the full force of his misconceptions.

  But the shock on the younger man’s face didn’t last for long. He scowled as he righted himself, releasing the windowsill with a low growl. “Damn it! Wrack—Wreck—whatever the hell your name is—I’m in the midst of the most important work of my life! Can’t you see that?” He braced himself like a bull, shoulders lowered, preparing to rush forward for a physical attack. “You may be too stodgy-headed to understand, but if you don’t let me finish without any more interruptions—”

  “Not a chance,” I said firmly as Luton slammed into an invisible wall several inches from my fiancé and went crashing to the ground. “Trust me,” I told him, stepping forward to look down on his prone figure, “I don’t care for the one elf-lord I’ve met any more than I care for you on first acquaintance—but we still can’t allow you to break our treaty. It’s kept this nation and our people safe for centuries, and we will not stand by while one arrogant boy breaks it for his own selfish reasons.”

  “You think I’ve broken a treaty?” Rolling over, he stared up at me from the floor where he’d landed atop a pile of crumpled cravats and coats. “Are you mad?”

  “Harwood,” said Wrexham quietly, “I think you’d better read this list before you go any further. I’d like your opinion on it, if you please.”

  “Hmm.” I twitched it out of his hand and frowned as I read impatiently down it. One method after another...and another...and another... “But these are contradictory,” I said. “They would never work together.”

  “Of course not!” Luton snarled. “None of them worked in the first place, as you’d know if you knew anything about weather wizardry outside of the meaningless nonsense that’s babbled at the Great Library and—”

  “Clearly, something worked,” I said to Wrexham, ignoring the continued snarling from the floor beneath us. “But if it wasn’t any of the methods on this list...”

  With a whisper of a spell, Wrexham raised his head. Every piece of paper in the room lifted itself carefully from beneath piled clothing and books and flew in a shower like white, fluttering snowflakes through the air to his waiting hands.

  Luton crossed his arms, settling himself into his position on the floor with what looked like grim satisfaction. “There’s no use in looking through those,” he informed us. “Not unless you want to batter at your own heads as much as I’ve battered at mine these past few days. I’m nearly there, though, or I could be—if I could ever get uninterrupted time to bloody think in this madhouse!”

  Wrexham shuffled through the pages, his frown deepening.

  I didn’t even try to read over his shoulder. Instead, I met the furious, trapped gaze of young Luton.

  I knew that fury all too well. I recognized it with every instinct in my body...and it sent a sick certainty sinking through my gut.

  My shoulders sagged as I gave in to reality.

  “You didn’t cast this snow spell after all,” I murmured. “Someone else did, didn’t they? And it’s driving you wild that you can’t even understand how it was possible.”

  “I will work it out,” Luton gritted through his teeth. “Damn it! If one of those hidebound traditional idiots can do it despite everything we were ever taught, then so can I. And when I do, everyone at the Great Library will have to admit that they were fools about me and about weather wizardry! If I could only...”

  But I didn’t wait to find out what he only needed in order to accomplish the impossible. I’d made more than enough of those statements myself, this past year, to learn the true value of all of them.

  I turned for the door, unable to speak.

  Wrexham lingered a little longer, his voice steady as I closed my cold fingers around the door handle. “In your professional opinion, Mr. Luton, could a magician who isn’t a weather wizard have done this?”

  Luton’s bark of laughter was ragged with frustration. “Do what the Great Library claims to be impossible, you mean? What every weather wizard who’s trained all their life could never manage, even
working en masse? You really are mad, aren’t you?”

  No, he wasn’t. But we were rapidly running out of options...

  And my own time was running out.

  13

  After two endless months in which the rest of my life had seemed interminable, my final days of freedom slipped away with dizzying speed. I had never written so many letters as I wrote in those few days, pouring all of my fury and despair into my arguments—to the Great Library itself, and to every newspaper and every magician I could think of who might be swayed by the thought of those magical girls and the education they so richly deserved.

  But I didn’t post any of my letters. Not yet. Any such flurry of activity would have alerted my sister-in-law to the fact that trouble was brewing—and she was safely distracted at the moment, between assisting in Lady Cosgrave’s preparations for the solstice and planning my own projected wedding.

  I saved all of my letters in a closed drawer in the little dressing table in my room, along with more notes addressed to my closest relatives, placed on top where they could be most easily discovered. I might not be sharing the news of what was coming with Jonathan and Amy, but there were some truths that I had to write down for them anyway, for them to read in the aftermath.

  Heartfelt thanks had to be given. Heartfelt apologies, too.

  ...And there was one more relative I still had to address. I couldn’t write any given name atop that particular note, but I signed it in my most elegant handwriting, with love from your aunt Cassandra, and I gritted my teeth to keep my jaw from trembling as I sealed the folded paper with one decisive stamp.

  It was past midnight on the night before the Winter Solstice. There was no time left for tears.

  I might have wasted the last two months of my life in bleak despair, but I wouldn’t waste another moment of it now.

  Wrexham opened his door even before I’d finished tapping my fingers lightly against it. The still and silent corridor was dimly lit at this time of night, with only a few fey-lights left glowing to aid guests in their nighttime perambulations. Still, my fiancé was fully dressed in his evening attire, with dark stubble creeping across his lean brown face.

  “You’ve had a new idea?” he whispered urgently. “Or—”

  “Shh.” I slipped inside and locked the door carefully behind me. A brace of candles stood atop the desk in the far corner, and I could see a pile of books set nearby; he’d obviously been poring over them when I arrived.

  “We have to be quiet,” I whispered. “I don’t want Amy and Jonathan to be embarrassed by anyone discovering me here.” I’d created enough social challenges for my family without adding any more to my list at the very end.

  Nodding, Wrexham whispered a spell that hummed through the air before closing us in a protected bubble. “No one will overhear us,” he said in his full voice. “So tell me: what have you discovered?”

  Fury and panic and despair had mingled so intensely within me over the past few days that I’d often felt as if I might explode from the sheer force of them. But as I looked at him now—my brilliant, driven fiancé, his eyes shadowed from the nights he’d spent fighting to find a way to save me—warmth filled my chest and washed all the rest away.

  I’d thought I had lost everything four months ago. I had been so wrong. And realizing that in this past week was the most bittersweet gift that I could ever have been granted.

  So: what had I discovered?

  “That I have no more time to waste,” I said with soft conviction, and I started toward him.

  Wrexham frowned uncomprehendingly as I pulled off my evening gloves and let them fall to the floor. “What do you mean?” he said. “Are you—mmph!” His eyes flew wide open with rare shock as I cut him off...and not with words.

  I loved talking with Wrexham more than almost anything in the world.

  But tonight was my last and only chance for more, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.

  We were illicitly and delightfully tangled on his bed ten minutes later, laughing and giddy with shared delight, when he suddenly pulled back, panting hard, and stared down at me. His shirt was off by then, revealing delicious, warm brown skin and shockingly soft dark hair that curled invitingly against my questing fingers. I wanted to explore every inch of it, but he shook his head at me, his long, black hair slipping over his face as he supported himself on his fisted hands.

  “Wait a minute,” he gasped. “We have to think this through. We can’t—we don’t have time for—”

  “We don’t have time,” I agreed fervently, and reached up to cup his beautiful, beloved face in both of my hands. “Wrexham, I have thought. Trust me, I’ve done nothing but think all through this past week, and so have you! We aren’t going to solve this mystery tonight, or find a way to break my promise without breaking the treaty.”

  “Curse the treaty,” Wrexham snarled. “We’ll just leave, now—”

  “And let the whole nation suffer for it? Really?” Emotion welled up inside me as I saw the torment in his expression. “You’re an officer of the Boudiccate,” I said softly. “You know we cannot let that happen. No, I made a promise to the elf-lord’s pet, and now I’ll pay for it...but then you will find a way to get me back if it’s humanly possible. Won’t you?”

  Wrexham clenched his jaw and didn’t answer...but the muscles in his bare arms, which were braced around me, tightened in a way that was entirely distracting.

  “Listen to me!” I told him in my most peremptory tone. “I threw away the last two months that we could have spent together. But now, at least, we have tonight. Are you really going to waste it hurling curses at Lord Ihlmere? Or are you finally going to make some use of the time that we’ve been given?”

  “Make some use?” A gleam of humor appeared in Wrexham’s eyes. A sigh rippled through his body...as it lowered infinitesimally toward me. His warm chest brushed against mine.

  I caught my breath, every muscle in my body tightening with anticipation.

  “Was that a challenge, by any chance, Harwood?” my fiancé inquired in a silky, dangerous tone.

  Satisfaction rippled through me as I arched shamelessly toward him, savoring every single point of connection. “You’ve met every challenge in your life so far,” I breathed. “Why don’t you do it this time, too?”

  He did.

  I didn’t manage much sleep that night, but my body still hummed with warmth and sweet, unfamiliar sensations as I arose the next morning from my own bed, to which I’d finally returned. Flashes of memory accompanied me like fleeting shadows behind my eyelids, overlaying each moment as I moved—Wrexham’s strong, sensitive fingers stroking with aching tenderness across my skin; his expression as he’d gazed up at me...

  I blinked again, and my vision was ruthlessly clear.

  The curtains had been opened while I slept. Snow fell beyond the windowpanes in an endless white flurry, too thick for me to even glimpse the rugged hills and massive, sleeping trolls who lurked beyond.

  Somewhere out there in the midst of that unnatural storm, Lord Ihlmere himself was certainly waiting for his moment. The only question, now, was exactly how I would choose to give it to him.

  I had come to a new conclusion last night after all, in the midst of that warm, enchanted bubble of privacy and exploration and unimagined possibilities.

  I’d cast that final, catastrophic spell on my own four months ago to prove to myself and to everyone else that I was too strong to ever need any help. Then I’d driven Wrexham away for his own good two months later...or so I’d told myself at the time. But in the end, I wasn’t the only one who’d been punished by that misguided decision.

  There were perfectly good, persuasive reasons not to tell my family the truth of what was happening today, and I’d let those reasons guide every one of my decisions over this past week. But in the middle of last night, as I’d opened myself completely, one final, unexpected consideration had blossomed within me...and in this morning’s clear, unforgiving light, it overwhel
med all the rest.

  I wouldn’t shut out the people I loved anymore. That wasn’t strength or courage after all. And if I only had a few hours left of freedom, I refused to spend them giving in to fear once again.

  I was carrying my three final, personal letters with me when I tapped on Amy and Jonathan’s door a few minutes later. They felt slippery in my hands as I fidgeted, my feet shifting against the carpeted floor and my own breath loud in my ears. A pair of guests passed behind me: Mr. Luton’s aunt and a friend, from the sounds of it, murmuring together. I didn’t bother to turn and greet them. I was too busy with my own internal calculations.

  If my family was already downstairs, should I bring the letters down, too? I couldn’t simply slip them under the door; that would be cowardly. And yet...

  The door swung open, and my older brother grinned down at me. “Hello, sleepyhead. I didn’t see you at breakfast.” He stepped aside, resplendent in unusual finery: his best forest-green waistcoat, a non-crumpled cravat, and hair that had clearly just been brushed. “Come in, come in. I’ve just been regaling Amy with some fascinating new details I gleaned from Miss Fennell’s scrolls.”

  “Delightful,” I said, as dryly as I could manage. I closed my hands harder around my letters as I stepped inside.

  Amy was changing her earrings at the dressing table, but she aimed a bright smile at me in the mirror. “Hello, darling! Do you think these ear bobs look appropriately festive for the solstice ceremony? I may be dragged in as a substitute after all if Lady Frampton doesn’t make it through this dreadful storm.”

  “That’s just as well,” I told her. “You know she’d only spend the whole ceremony sniping back and forth with Mrs. Seabury. They’d probably offend all the elves past bearing.”

  But if Amy was actually going to be there to watch...

  My fingers squeezed tight into fists, crumpling my letters.

  “Fair point,” said Jonathan breezily, as he rearranged a cufflink on his wrist. “But I have been warning Amy, you know, not to let herself get dragged into any private conversations with the elves while she’s there. It’s just as I was telling Miss Fennell yesterday, you see—they’re infamous, especially the elf-lords, for being able to twist their words so well that they can persuade you into foolish bargains if you aren’t careful.”