The lovers lived happily and contentedly for many summers in their little home by the river, and though the stars have long since called them Beyond, their spirit remains among us. It lingers in the homes, it whispers in the streets, it lives on in the warmth and welcome of Wildemire’s people.
And just as it did back then, this town still has a curious habit of finding the right people at the right time.
Adrik quieted suddenly. I flinched, torn sharply from his tale like a song ending mid-rise. I discovered, with furious, heated embarrassment, that I’d been staring at him, lips parted as if to devour his words. He’d spoken with such life that warmth swelled fiercely in my hollow chest.
Adrik’s smile had faltered. He stared past me through the window and into the distance, where the wind breathed frost over the trees and the hillside fires dwindled.“I must go,” he said and fled the chamber without another word.
I shivered in the draft. The wind whispered strangely in my ear.
Let me see you. Let me taste you.
A lone rider chased his mount over the fields, shrinking swiftly to a dark dot against endless white.
Let me see you.
I blinked once, and the rider had crested the nearest hill. A flame burst alive, licking at the dawning skies. First one, then the next. It happened so quickly, I’d only breathed twice before fires blazed anew on the seven hills.
The wind quieted.
SEVEN
To the ancient oak.
The trouble with needing something from Adrik was that I’d have to suffer his presence to discover what I might offer him in return. That, and the humbling awareness that I had nothing at all to give.
I was glad when Almira came that evening with an offer to help me wash. The rosewater and dried petals she sprinkled into the bowl worked a small miracle and I felt, for once, a little less like a feral beast.
“This one certainly needs a lot of convincing,” said Almira, frowning at the snow-buried garden.
I tensed with terror. The peach tree, withered and strange, jutted like a totem pole from the snow. If she looked closely, she’d see leaves veined with tar, a sickness creeping up the stem. But Almira did not look closely. She only swirled her blood-specked hand, and the garden burst to life. Gold dust settled over vivid blossoms and succulent leaves.
“Almira!”
She was swaying, face like ash beneath her wide-rimmed hat. Her hands trembled as I braced her. She mumbled—no,cursed—under her rapid, rattling breath. With bloodless fingers, she reached for a flask on her belt and took a sip. A little color returned to her lips.
“No need to be worried for old Almira. It was the brisk walk, I reckon. These legs are not quite as sprightly as they used to be.”
“Let me call for Lorell—”
“No, girl.” I flinched at her sharpness. “There is no need to trouble dear Lorell, nor the boy. I shall see to it that I rest. You had better do the same.”
She hobbled swiftly to the door as if once more in hale shape. Her rebuke chased a flush of shame over my skin. I watched her bitterly as she vanished into the twilight. I was no good at unraveling the finer undertones of a conversation.
As strange as a hag and twice as mad.
How was I to secure Adrik’s favor if I caused offense whenever I opened my mouth? What could I offer someone who lived in a town of such wonders and strangeness?
The trees began to shiver on the far hills. A furious wind whistled over the roof and forced its way through the window. I shuddered and turned the pillow thrice. Before sleep took me, a tingle crept over my spine and gathered at its base. I braced myself for a pair of bone-white eyes in the window, for the hollowness of a half-alive voice in the wind.
But beneath the fir’s lowest branch waited only the luminous gaze of a fox.
I snapped awake in the late hours of the night as if roused by an urgent call.
The moon hung like a harvest sickle above the river. I was alone and the world was quiet. There was nothing of interest that might have torn me from sleep, but my blood hummed with feverish unrest. As if someone had called me, indeed, and I needed only to heed that call to find somethingfantastical—
My keen gaze slipped again and again to the edge of the woods, through a gap between two elms and into the night-dark forest.
A little fox darted between withering branches; a terribly listless thing. It was going to the far hill. To the pond amid frozen reeds and thin-stemmed birches. To the ancient oak.
