We chased the stag down the mud-slick street, hearts ablaze with fear and with an aching inkling. We flew over thefootbridge, beckoned by that whisper in the spring-warm breeze and by the tall apple tree that rose like a beacon from the hilltop. It stood in full bloom, branches bowed beneath the weight of blossoms.
We found Almira resting at its gnarled foot. Her face was shadowed by her straw-hat, but even so I caught a glimpse of apple-red cheeks and a toothless grin.
“Ah, girl,” she said when I stumbled with a sob into her arms and cradled her hands. “The wind sings your praises. I believe you’ve another admirer.” With her knobbly finger, she brushed a tear from my cheek and tutted. “Now, now. You’re in the prime of youth, girl, and spring comes. There is no time for such grief when there’s dance to be had.”
“I might be in the prime of youth,” I said desperately, as if my denial might stave off the whisper of death in the air, “but you are in the prime of age.”
Her grin softened. “That I am. It is always good to end things on a high note, no?”
“Please.” I placed a soft kiss on the back of her shrivelled hand. “Just another while longer.”
“And then another, and another.” She cackled. “I’ve lived this life to the fullest, girl, and I’ve stretched it far beyond its time.” She looked with twinkling eyes up, where Adrik kneeled beside me. His tears gleamed like pearls in the spring light. “I never told you this, because I believed you knew: This town is thrice as bright for your presence. You need not lift a finger for it, except to water the plants, boy. The girl will have her hands full.”
Death grew impatient—he slid his greedy fingers like cold water over my neck and stretched them for Almira. I shuddered.
“Forgive me, girl,” she breathed. “I believed in you since the winds first whispered your name across the vale, many moons ago. I saw so clearly the brightness you would bring to us, andI grew afraid that your fear might still chase you away. I should not have lied to you.”
“Be free of guilt,” I breathed. Our moments were counted and I had yet to make them count. “I will see to it that this land and its people remember you, always. I will spin your tale into the roots and into the riverwaves so that a thousand years from now, they will sing of the wild witch who lived among them. We will set the table for you at every meal. We will dance your dances.”
Almira died still smiling.
I stayed with her until her fingers grew stiff with death. I stayed with her until darkness fell over me.
I woke to the merry crackle of a fire and two bickering voices.
“—give her another flask.”
“If you give her another, she’ll not wake at all.”
A low snarl. “There has to besomethingI can do.”
“You can sit still and be quiet for a moment,” said Zora impatiently. “She needs rest and she will wake no sooner for your obnoxiousness. If I were her, I’d sleep a while longer just to prove a point.”
Another snarl.
I pried my eyes open with great irritation. It seemed I could never have a moment’s peace. “I have a better idea,” I said hoarsely. “Why don’t you bite each other’s heads off somewhere I cannot hear you?”
“Ana,” breathed Adrik.
“YouknowI am alright.” I’d been determined to give him a piece of my mind, but I found my words tinged with amusement. “You made that stupid bargain, remember?”
He gave me only a soft smile before he buried his face into the sheets at my waist. Zora sniffed, as she did whenever she was annoyed, but her eyes were bright and her lips quivered.
“Are you alright?” I asked her.
“I’m as lively as the spring flowers, and there’s a whole bunch of them out there.” She tilted her head. “You?”
I said with a groan, “As if I was hit by a rockslide.”
“Ah, always the sunshine,” she said with a grin. “Let me get you a cup of tea.”
She left us in thin, breathless silence.
“Forgive me, Ana,” whispered Adrik, a sheen of guilt veiling his eyes. “I did not know, I swear it. I thought the spirit haunted me for what I did in the north. I thought the faeries and mages that followed me when I first arrived had cursed the land. I thought the spirit loathed me for bringing them here. I never realized—” He shook his head, bowed again beneath that neverending guilt. “It cursed me whenever I went into the forest or when the flares went out. I did not know what to do with its anger. I thought I was going mad.”
“I heard the whispers too,” I said. “Whenever the fires died, the wind would speak to me. I thought I was mad too.” I let a finger glide over the sharp edge of his jaw. “Perhaps we are both a little mad, King of the Forgotten Lands. It is a good thing I have always had a fondness for the wild and for the mad.”
That cold in his eyes cracked. As he looked at me, his features melted into something achingly soft. “Then I shall strive forever to be both.”
