“But no one’s forcing you to bargain with desperate people. It’s predatory.”
“Is it? Because of my magic, the Knight family prospered. It’s whythisone grew up in a grand farmhouse.”
“You made it a prison,” the Warlock croaks.
“Your sense of fairness has gone cattywampus, boy.Yourparents came tome. I don’t horde my magic only for myself. Nor do I expend it for free. They learned both lessons.”
“But it’s not only about balancing the debt with you, is it? You wanted to punish me for your feud with them, even after the fire.”
The hearth flares. “Because you were ungrateful andspoiled. You were the town’s first Warlock in generations, bornhere, your magic tied to the Holler. Made stronger for it. But all that potential just left you with more power than humility.”
He runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Everyonehas an ego as a teenager.”
“But you grew older, and still you hid away. What has your magic done for your town, helped anyone in your community, before or after the fire?”
Doubt tears through the anger on his face. His eyes flick to me. Haven’t I been telling him the same thing the last two months?
“Regardless, they’re dead,” he mutters. “None of this matters anymore.”
The anger on the Witch’s face shifts to disappointment. “What a shame.” From a bowl, she grabs a raw huckleberry and squeezes it between two crooked fingers. “That farmhouse gave you all the time and space to grow, yet your heart is still the size of a huckleberry.”
She bursts the berry with a squishypop.
“That’s true,” I say.
The Warlock shoots me an affronted expression, which I ignore. I might be a guest in a conversation decades in the making, but I don’t like feeling akin to a pot on a back burner.
“But it’s not the only truth,” I continue. “He left the town, but he never left its people.”
Her sharp attention lands on me. “Pretty words, but you’re biased, girl.”
The Warlock scoffs. “I know I grew up with comfort my parents didn’t pay for. But they made that deal forme. Only once I came along, not before. Their intention was selfless. Even if I didn’t grow up to be.”
He stalks back to my side, confidence renewing his stern if ashen expression. A welcome sight, over the shame.
“Your garden, Okolona—I can see it’s dying. Which meansyou’redying. That’s why you agreed to grant my wish a year ago. I’d owe you a favor, and you planned to ask for my help.”
She purses her lips, her sonker forgotten and bubbling over.
My jaw slackens. “That’swhy you haven’t taken a husband this season.”She doesn’t have the magic. The smaller, concentrated attacks on the Manor make sense, but how in the world did she manage that tornado?
An idea goes off like a kitchen timer in my head. “How about a deal?”
The Warlock whirls to me. “What?Frost, what the hell are you doing?”
I’m not sure, but I’m doing it. I look at the Witch head-on. “I’ll make you a recipe. A cure. In exchange, you’ll tell me all you can about my family’s affliction. Whatever information you’ve possibly got. If I can reverse the effects for my mom, I want to know.”
Momaw Frost is rolling her eyes from the grave. That’s three people I’ve promised to save now, but it seems every godforsaken person in the Holler is dying, so what’s another?
Violent interest gleams in the Witch’s eyes. “Is that all?”
“And you lift your curse on Mr. Knight before the solstice. You let him live.”
She hums. “It has to be one ofmyrecipes. From my books.”
“Fine.”
“And if the recipe you choose doesn’t work?”
