“Will!” Sofie exclaims. “You did it! You did it!”
“He did,” I say. And then, holding his eyes with mine, I ask, “You ready?”
“Yes.”
I peel my fingers one by one from his until he’s standing there on his own, a torch alight. Finally, hours later, proof that the magic of the sea can meet the land when the spell is just right.
We coat each witch’s chosen arm in octopus ink, and within minutes, all of them save for Sofie have successfully called forth flames.
She’s tried several times but still finds the spell’s power frustratingly out of her reach. She’s threatened to retire for the night, Katrine’s copy ofGrimms’ Fairy Talescalling hername as all the magic she needs. But I won’t let her give up. Not yet.
Maybe the distance she’s described isn’t so different from what I’ve been feeling, though my magic hasn’t yet completely failed. Perhaps she needs grounding in the same way I do. Not just connection with the sea through the ink, but maybe with her own land too.
I pull her aside, into the corner of the kitchen with the washbasin. “I have an idea for you. But only for you.”
Her face seems to fall farther, as if this isn’t an opportunity but yet another strike against her. “Let’s face it, I really am a dog on the hunt. Woof.”
“Stop.”
She rolls her eyes but says no more.
I hold up my left hand. Niklas’s ring shimmers there, red as the center of the earth. “I want you to try with this ring.”
Her lips drop open and she hesitates for once. “That’s his.”
“It was.”
I tell her of its origins—a gem heaved from the belly of the earth to the crust. And though she might have reservations about wearing it given the past twenty-four hours, it might be exactly what she needs. “Please try it.”
Sofie stares at the ring, sitting at the ready in my palm. “I... I don’t know. He’s worn that ring since hisgrandfather passed. It seems too... close.” Pain flashes in her beautiful green eyes, the hurt she had planned for Niklas never physical. Never so permanent as what I’ve done.
It’s then that I notice her wedding rings are gone. They didn’t make the journey from the castle with her. I wonder if they would have if she’d slept in them, or if she would’ve ripped them off the second she was free of her father’s arranged marriage, the plan she’d developed underneath those circumstances dead along with the king.
I take her hand and press Niklas’s ring into her palm. “If it doesn’t work, you don’t have to keep it. Give it back and that will be that.”
I close her fingers around it.
Sofie sucks in a deep breath and places the ring on the thumb of her ink-black arm. Her hands are so petite it slides on a little too easily. “May I?” I ask, my hand hovering over hers.
“What are you going to do?”
“Just tighten it so it isn’t a flaming projectile when the spell works for you.”
There’s nearly another eye roll from her, but she extends her hand anyway. I place a single finger on the ring.“Smár.”
The red stones shimmer just a touch, that specific burnished red of sunset. Sofie holds her hand out in front of her, as she must once have admired the ring Niklas gave her in the beach ceremony. It fits perfectly; the distant candlelight dances off each facet. She tears her eyes awaylong enough to glance over to where the others are trying to race each other in calling the spell, seeing whose arm lights first.
“Let’s give it a go right here,” I say.
“Now?”
“Sure.”
In response, Sofie raises the arm, ready. She squeezes her eyes shut, a grounding breath filling her lungs.
“Feel the magic,” I whisper as she takes a few more deep breaths, visualizing success. “Reach for it. Tell it what you want.”
There’s a long moment where I think she might chicken out.
