I’d never met another who possessed this wild magic—possessed it andwieldedit. There were covens, it was said, of women born with this power. Witches who called flowers from ash and crops from dirt with the wave of a hand. Just a handful of them, a dozen or two in all the land. Was this what I could have been, had I been born with this magic rather than cursed that night beneath the ribbon-hung elm? Was this what I would have been able to do, had there not lived something rotten within me?
Acuriousmagic—
“That I am,” breathed Almira. She clutched her walking stick with white knuckles. The blood had drained from her lips, as if she’d drawn too much of it from her finger. “Now, be a dear and remind the boy to water the plants, will you?”
She slammed the door with surprising vigor before I could insist that she rest for a while. As she passed the garden, she petted the sage as if it were a kitten, smearing blood over its stem. The plant nestled into her palm—a kitten, indeed.
I stared with unease after Almira: A bony figure stark against the snow in her vivid, patterned rags. She was wearing neither shoes nor a coat.
The breeze stiffened to a wind. Thick snowflakes began to tumble from the twilit clouds. I should alert someone to ensure Almira did not slip on ice or get lost in the storm. I should call someone…
The harsh tonic she’d forced down my throat gathered like mist in my mind. I was out before she’d passed the garden fence.
Hours later—the clouds had cleared and a thin sliver of moonlight painted the frosted window silver—I startled awake from a noise.
A shriek caught in my throat. Fear crept bitterly into my veins. At the tips of my fingers began a sinister tingle. The garden… I must have lost control of the monster while I slept. The hounds had found me, had tracked the stench of my magic to this snow-buried town and come to take me.
Hello, little bird.
A tap and a rasp. The scratching neared, claws against wood. The tingle in my fingers sharpened to a sting. I clutched the glass chalice and knocked it sharply against the edge of the nightstand. It shattered with a crisp clank in two, making a blade-like shard of its foot.
“Huh?” came a voice through the door.
I drew a hissing breath. “Who’s there?”
The scratching ceased. “Lorell. The, uh, the alchemist.”
I lowered my pathetic weapon.
As strange as a hag and twice as mad.
The tapping returned. Now that my panic ebbed and the monster returned to a fitful slumber, it did not sound like hounds at all; rather like mice scuttling beneath tavern floors. A knock on the door.
I slid the glass shard under the sheets and said, a little puzzled, “Come in?”
The door opened with a soft creak, revealing the gaunt old man. He looked somewhat forlorn in the pale moonlight, strands of silver hair peeking out under a long-tailed nightcap. “It is time for your medicine,” he mumbled and presented me awkwardly with a large wicker basket.
“It is the middle of the night.”
Lorell flinched, staring past the window. “It is? I had not noticed."
There was a hint of regret in his voice. I could not bear to see him so ill at ease with me; I knew well how it felt to be so afraid of misstepping. I said, with feigned liveliness, “No harm done. I was not sleeping.”
He grumbled as he came to stand stiffly by the bed. From the basket, he produced a plate of walnut bread, herbed cheese and grapes, and three flasks with strange liquids.
"Take this one first.”
I barely evaded the vial he shoved at my face. "Uh, thanks.”
I braced myself for something vile, but the bright-green brew tasted pleasantly of mushroom soup. Warmth bloomed in the hollows between my ribs, and my bones echoed with mirth and mischief. I stifled a snicker as I took the second flask from Lorell. Thick purple smoke burst forth as I uncorked it. It smelled faintly of violets as I inhaled it and it swiftly stole any lingering pain. This time, I could not suppress a silly snicker. I quickly sealed the flask, trapping the remaining smoke, and slid it beneath the pillow.The last vial sloshed with a honey-like liquid that clung to the roof of my mouth and made me retch.
Lorell waited patiently until I’d collected myself. Now that I’d met Almira and Adrik, I appreciated his quiet presence.
“Thank you,” I mumbled. “Adrik said it was you who saved my life.”
Lorell’s fingers froze in his beard. "It was no trouble, girl." A moment passed in stiff silence, then he harrumphed. There stirred something behind his grim expression—something that brimmed with no small measure of pride and affection. “The boy understates his part.Hefound you.Hebrews most of the potions these days. He is a good apprentice, but I must not tell him that too often, lest he become vain about it.”
We drew, both of us, a sharp breath to recover from the shock of his passionate speech, and we did not speak again while he returned the empty flasks to the basket. He did not notice one was missing.
