The sea king, as bitter, furious, heartbroken, and sick as he is, will have nothing left to lose.
21
Runa
MORNING DRIFTS INTO NIGHT ASILEARN EVERYTHINGthis small coven of rebels knows about the Havnestad U-boat program. Which turns out to be quite a lot—they know dates, places, the program’s organizational structure.
What they don’t know is much magic. Even Katrine, despite her reputation and her clear knowledge. Worse, there aren’t many of us. There isn’t a network of covens working together on this plot. Our army is solely composed of these three witches plus two more—Phillip, the other boy from the balcony, and Agnata, Sofie’s handmaiden. And neither of them made it to the safe house when things went south last night. Neither numbers nor magic are in our corner.
It’s one thing to learn in daily lessons about the ways nonmagical humans, especially those in power, went aboutextinguishing the witch community—Hypatia in Greece, over a millennium ago; Salem, across the Atlantic; the Pendle and Chelmsford witches in the British Isles; and here, King Christian IV, the self-styled witch-hunter king, and all the women he tossed in a fire—but to see how it has left those who remain is quite something.
I’d thought that maybe Will’s singular ability to fashion daisies was simply because of a lack of practice, but how can he be expected to learn when even his teacher’s skills are rudimentary and self-taught through the faded pages of ancient texts? Katrine can sense magic, and spell a door, but her magic only has practical applications.
Like her cousin, Sofie has a finger on the thread of magic, but she can’t properly use it. Even now, I can barely recognize a whiff of her magical scent, it’s so weak. It’s not surprising, then, that she hasn’t successfully completed a spell—not even Will’s daisy-making one. Still, she can sense magic like the others—she smelled it on me and Alia, though she did not discern it was from the sea—so there is some small hope we can make a real witch out of her yet.
It’s decided that we’ll take a quick break, wash up, eat something, and then I will work with these witches to see if I can teach them something of my magic.
Which is another small problem. My magic is tied to the sea, even more out of reach than their own magic. IfI am to be useful to these witches, and to myself in this body, I need to learn to tap into the magic of the land.
I come up on Katrine as she’s clearing bowls and spoons from the soup she made, something hearty of clams she pulled from the shore the day before. “Katrine, may I speak with you alone?”
She tosses a glance over my shoulder to Sofie and Will, who are adding new kindling to the small fireplace built into the house—something we’re only able to use at night to avoid detection. Drying her hands on her apron, Katrine nods and leads me into the small room at the back of the house.
Earlier, I learned that this is her sleeping quarters. It’s not much more than a bed surrounded by trunks of clothes, and items meant for earth magic—craggy-edged gemstones, corked bottles of various potions, the dusty books containing all the magic known to her. This is where she found me a clean dress. It’s a rough-spun cotton thing that, though plain, fits me nicely after I wash the blood and the disastrous night from my hair.
Now, Katrine lights a lamp on her bedside table as I close the door tightly behind us. She nods for me to speak.
“Before I can instruct you tonight, I need your help,” I say, and then reach for a way to say what I feel. The fat orange tabby, Tandsmør, sways against my ankles, maybe trying to help. “I don’t know how to describe it, but mymagic seemsthinin this body. It still does as I ask, but it’s unlikely that I can do the sort of big spells we need reliably.”
To my surprise, Katrine chuckles. It’s a gruff sort of thing that has more weight to it than her natural voice. “You lit your arm on fire after busting down my door. If that is thin, you’re being a tad harsh on yourself.”
Okay. Yes. Compared to what she does, what I do is impressive. It’s just not... right.
“Since I’ve been here, my magic has felt distant. It still comes from the sea. Is there anything I can do to make myself feel more connected on land?”
Her lips press into a line, and she gestures to my hand. “Is that not why you have that ring?”
I look down—I almost forgot that Niklas’s ring is still on my thumb.
Katrine taps it with a fingernail. “Stones ground us. This ring is made of mahogany obsidian—a very good choice to connect you to the earth. It’s made of the same iron that’s said to be at the earth’s center. A ring fashioned of this stone is meant to support integrity and courage—even under the most difficult circumstances.”
My mind flashes back to my assumptions about Niklas that I spit into my sister’s face.That money would only line his pocket, kill his kind, and make our kind vulnerable to discovery, capture, imprisonment, and murder.
She’d fought me on that, and then Will had confirmed it.This war ruined the summer whaling season, and his coffers were looking lean, so he took the bait. I tried to convince him he could make money another way.
Maybe Niklas wasn’t lining his pockets, maybe he really did think he was doing right by his people. But it was a narrow-minded view that would affect so much beyond Havnestad.
I blink at the ring. It may be mine now, and it may have helped me during our fight with the guards, grounding my magic in this place in a way I didn’t realize, but it also connects me to Niklas’s murder, and if we’re to go back into Havnestad, the last thing I can be caught with is this ring.
“Do you have another stone that might work for me? Something that will help ground me in another way?”
Katrine sinks to the chest nearest the bed and flaps it open. Within are pounds upon pounds of stones, all rough and jagged. She comes out with a purple stone about the size of a chicken egg.
“Amethyst is the traditional way to go—one of the most magical stones we have. It’s meant to balance fear and manage emotions.”
“Perfect.”
I accept the amethyst and let it warm my palms. It sits there, heavy as a heartbeat, intense and alive. The magic within me shies away at first, dubious. I cup my fingersaround the stone, not letting my magic have an out. The warmth spreads against the backs of my fingertips. This time, my power unfurls itself, tentative curiosity finally making contact.
