He presses a kiss to my temple. “You were right about them. But I meant that,” he says, pointing to the road, where water runs down the ruts.
The melt we noticed around the cottages yesterday seems to be creeping outward. Last night, we all marvelled at thedrip, drip, drippingfrom the icicles off the roof. By the time we went to bed, wet dirt was visible all around the three cottages.
Now meltwater threads through packed slush, catching pink sunbeams and throwing gleaming reflections.
“It’s starting,” I whisper. “Do we dare hope for spring?”
“Only one way to know.” Lark takes my hand. We collect the others on our way. “To the garden, little beasties!”
They’re all so happy after the hearing yesterday, they’ve scarcely left Lark’s side. Aili insisted we all spend the night together, so we slept in a pile of mats and blankets in the living room. I didn’t get alone time with Lark, but I wouldn’t trade the warmth of cuddling together while the kids piled around us for anything.
“Is Val coming?” asks Aili.
“Of course I am,” I tell her. I’m secretly thrilled that the kids are still calling me Val. I think I’ll ask them to continue. Forever.
Hellion and the twins race ahead, beating us there. Frost still edges the garden beds behind the inn, but in the middle, dark patches peek through the slush, revealing the rise and fall of rows once planted in autumn. The air smells rich with wet soil.
Mikael points. “Look.”
A tiny teal shoot has broken through, its tip curled tightly like a fist. Nearby, I spot a second shoot unfurling pale leaves that shimmer with moisture.
“Over here!” cries Johannes.
We hurry to the next bed, where a row of tender blue fern-like plants peek from the ground.
“What are they?” Aili asks.
“I think those are makarrots,” Lark tells her. “Sweet carrots. Hugo’s favorite.”
The hedgehog’s twitchy little nose pokes out from under the brim of Lark’s hat, which he’s wearing again. He’s not ready to let the rest of the world see him without it, but I have hope that we’ll get there. Meanwhile, Hugo flings himself onto the wet dirt, landing with a splat.
Lark chuckles. “They’re not ready to eat yet.”
Unhappy grunts. The hedgehog plops down in a sunny patch and begins rolling, kicking up flecks of mud with his quills.
“I have an idea,” Helkki announces. “If we could unfreeze Mika and Val with magic, we can thaw the rest of the garden too! We don’t have to wait!”
“Hellion, whatever you’re thinking—”
Too late.
With a delighted grin, she raises her hands and sends a plume of fire straight across the nearest bed. Snow sizzles, moisture hisses, and tender sprouts go up like little candle wicks all in a row. The fire fades, and all that’s left are charred stems.
“Hellion,” six voices groan as one, mine included.
“No,” Katja gasps. She drops to one knee to cradle the closest shoot in her hands. The blackened plant crumbles to ash.
“It’s okay,” Lark says. “They’re not dead.”
“Are you sure?” I mutter.
“I promise,” Lark assures us. “The roots are still alive under the soil. Just like they waited under the frost until it was safe to come up, they’ll try again. They just need a little time and warmth. Maybe not fire this time.”
Helkki shrugs. “I thought it was a good idea.”
While everyone watches the soil as if fresh growth is about to spring forth, my fingers tingle with warmth. Extending a hand over the bed, I reach for my magic. Not the clear and easy ice magic I’ve always had, but the opposite.
“Do that again,” Lark whispers, resting a hand on the small of my back.
