“The wind whispers.”
I followed her, fear-hearted, into the burrow. “I was wondering—” I began, but I was silenced by a cry of, “Tea first!”
I knew better by now than to argue with anyone in this town about the importance of tea. While the kettle whistled, Almira sat pale-faced in the chair. Her dress hung loosely from her bone-thin shoulders, and when she thought I was unaware, she closed her eyes and drew two hissing breaths.
“I have wild magic."
Almira grinned, that tinge of weakness gone. “I know, girl.”
“Adrik thinks I can learn to wield it.”
“What doyouthink?”
I laughed bitterly. “I fear he is blind with hope. I think he refuses to see… I was not born with this magic. The spirits cursed me with it.”
“Ah,” said Almira. “I do not think it matters much. Magic is magic, and yours is as wild as mine.” She watched me curiously as I steeped the tea. “What do you know of wild magic?”
“As much and as little as the books told me."
Almira sighed. “Nothing at all, then.” She took the tea glass with trembling hands from me. “I was born into a coven, girl. I lived for a long time with sisters who wielded the same power.We learned from the cradle how to shape our magic. We learned that it flowed best beneath a half-moon, that it was quick to stir in the spring and that it slept in the snow. We learned to draw it forth, even in the winter, by our blood. To strengthen and guide it through a sacrifice. We lived in gardens of everbloom, amid meadows and moonlight, and we never hungered. I fled here with the wind after a faerie stole my sisters.” Grief flickered in her eyes. I wished to comfort her, but she said sharply, “Do not pity me, girl. I have lived a good life. I will meet them again Beyond.”
“The books call it an untamed thing,” I said. “A thing of darkness and destruction.”
“It is, if allowed to manifest as raw power. If wielded through blood, it can be whatever you wish, girl.” Almira set the tea with a quiet groan aside, paling as she stood. “Do you wish to learn? Do you wish to wield the tides and the storm?”
I wanted, most of all, to subdue the monster within. I did not care about wielding the tides or growing an orchard. I wanted just enough control to lead this town through the storm and never to suffer another outburst. It seemed like a dull thing to say, so I only nodded.
“Then I shall be your teacher. Come girl, let us walk.”
I followed her as she hobbled from the burrow and I braced her as we descended the slope to the frozen riverbed. Almira stepped barefooted between the frozen spires. I slipped from my boots, shrieking when the ice nipped at my feet. Almira seemed entirely unbothered by the agony of it. She drew a handknife from the folds of her vibrant rags and slid the blade with a faint smile over her palm. Warmth swept through the frigid air and carried golden dust over the spiked ice.
Almira raised her arms toward pale-blue skies, painting the skies with swirls and coaxing a string of glistening droplets from the thawing current. She hung them like pearls around her neck.For a heartbeat, she looked as regal as an old queen, untouched by age and unburdened by the weight of the storm.
Then her brow tensed, her wrinkles deepened, and her lithe dance turned into something wild. With sharp, clipped motions she drew forth the tide. The river answered with a roar, ice shattering like glass to reveal a riptide, pulling furiously at my feet. Almira eased, and the current calmed.
When she spoke, her voice came from the river itself. “If I speak in anger, the river answers in kind. If I speak in fondness-” She traced the pearls with a tender smile. “The wild has a knack for returning that fondness. If you wish to learn, I will teach you the whims of magic, but I cannot control it for you.”
“I want to learn,” I whispered. “I am tired of running.”
NINETEEN
Do not torment me too much.
Almira let me go with a cackle as soon as we’d thawed our frozen feet by her hearth.
“He will be fine, girl,” said Almira as I hurried to the door. I blushed fiercely. It was true that my gaze had often slipped to the forest, but I did not think I’d been so obvious. “Here,” she said, shoving a little pouch at me. “This is a calming tea. Take it to the castle. He goes there to brood, and the wind tells me already that he is brooding.”
I stood for a while at the foot of the castle hill, staring at the towers gilded with sunset. It was much less grand than the castles I’d seen from afar, but much too grand still to open its gates to something like me—something feral and hardened, with calloused hands and thorn-scarred fingers and a voice that lent itself better to silence than to song and spirited conversation.
Twilight descended over the lantern-lit path, painting trees and towers black against the snow. My nervous fingers chased the remnants of warmth deeper into the pocket of my coat, where they came across the still-warm pebble.
I laughed, startled from my spiraling thoughts by the faint echo of a mischievous laugh. Had I not learned of myself in these past weeks that I quite enjoyed an evening of fireside conversation? Had I not proven myself capable of eloquence and, on occasion, even of banter?
I hurried with renewed spirit up the path. Silence had fallen over the town, its people gathered around hearths and well-decked tables. There was nothing far and wide save the crunch of my steps in the snow and thecaw,caw, cawof a crow, whose red eyes tracked me as I passed under its sweeping tree and through a silver-wrought arch.
I came into a little courtyard, lit only by the candleglow spilling through curved galleries and tall windows. At its heart, draped with withered roses and ivy, stood a fountain whose spout had frozen into a sculpture that reminded me, horribly, of a hound’s muzzle. From the stables peeked a tall white doe, observing me with cunning eyes as I laid a trembling hand against the wood-carved door. It was as tall as a tree, but it opened with surprising ease.
I stepped into the hall as if slipping into a lake of silver. Starlight dripped from the skies and spilled through open arches, over polished floors and moonstone pillars. It gathered like fireflies in the chandeliers and in the tall mirrors lining the marbled walls. I stole with clipped steps through the hall, quiet breaths echoing like a whispered song over the vaulted ceiling. The stone hummed with warmth, with magic. Through the arches, I caught a glimpse of the town, sprawling like a sea of lights through the vale. I did not feel unwelcome in this hall, but its grandeur frightened me. As if I might shatter the gilded flowers and delicate trimmings if I just breathed too harshly.
