“He’s very happy I’m alive, I’m sure. He’d rather not have a dead daughter. But he’s also very upset that it’s me in particular who is staying here.” I meet his eyes. “Because I’m the only one who can give him what he needs.”
Will steadies his elbows on his knees and looks up at me, face and voice calm. “And what does he need?”
I take a deep breath. “Power.”
“Power? And you can give that to him?” he asks.
“Yes.”
My answer works across his face and the roll of his broad shoulders. “And the alternative is why I need protection.”
“Yes. You, Katrine, Sofie, Agnata, and any other witch to be had will be in danger if I don’t go back.”
“Not power then, magic? He needs magic.”
“Yes. And unless I can help him in my way, he’ll do anything to get it. I have to stop him, Will.”
He nods, understanding. He gets to his feet, and in one step he’s right in front of me, smelling of the earth and wood and fresh cotton. I let him draw me in, his hands cupping my elbows, as I place my palms on his chest.The nightgown hangs off my arm between our bodies, a reminder.
He looks deep into my eyes and again presses a finger under my chin, tipping it up. “You’ll stop him. I know you will.”
I kiss him on the cheek. He still hasn’t shaved, but I like that he’s rough with stubble—the burn on my lips will last longer, the memory forming as clear as the scratch I feel at this moment.
27
Runa
AFTER SUPPER, IT’S IMMEDIATELY OBVIOUS THATnerves are setting in.
A copy ofFrau Jenny Treibeluntouched in her lap, Sofie stares into the fire like she’s watching the day unfold within the dancing shadows and flashes of light. She’d been carrying books around the castle to pass notes to the team, but it turns out she likes to read in her spare moments. Now, the orange tabby snores softly against her feet as the book goes unread. Predictably, Agnata is by her side, trying very much to do the same thing, but she’s restless—legs crossing and uncrossing, and crossing again.
Katrine is cleaning, scrubbing, straightening. As if we won’t return to this place and she can’t stand the idea of it being a mess when the inspectors arrive to arrest her.
And Will, he’s in the rocking chair, eyes closed, runningthrough the plan, the blocking, the sequence, over and over. His lips move, but he makes no sound. His hands flash up occasionally in little movements as he runs through his spells—sleep, shield, wildfire.
I’m bent next to a low-burning candle, paging throughThe Spliid Grimoire.This book’s power is undeniable. It’s a solid collection, rife with information in a scribe’s never-ending looping scrawl—it’s very easy to see why it was the one Katrine picked right away.
Still, I’ve yet to find an overt spell that will help me go home, but my hair stands on end when I find a passage where my plight is described, nice and tidy, the balance laid plain.
The sea is forever defined by its tide, give and take the measure of its barter. In magic, as in life, the sea does not give its subjects lightly—payment is required, the value equivalent, no matter the ask. A shell, a fish, a pearl of the greatest brilliance—none can be taken without debt to be paid.
The directness of it all makes me grin, but the magic behind it is so much more complex. Eydis would say that my sacrifice of the king should be payment enough, but I know it’s not, no matter how much I want to believe it is. Niklas was to be Alia’s payment, his blood only useful to either of us if she completed her end of the bargain.
Still, Urda is a fickle witch, and a sacrificewasmade. Perhaps she can be convinced. She must be. I have no choice. After all, intent should matter. My deed wasforAlia, to absolveAlia. I took her burden onto me. Now I just need the magic to see this and accept the exchange.
I page through the grimoire for what feels like the hundredth time, searching for something, anything that would transfer her debt. And then the answer is so clear. It’s a transactionlike any other.
I have to buy Alia’s debt.Skipta.Exchange. The most basic of spells.
A devastating realization punches me hard in the gut. If only I had thought of this before, Alia might still be alive. The transfer now won’t bring her back no matter what, but it may help me. If I assume her obligation, I will have fulfilled her deal, having murdered Niklas, rendering his blood usable again. I can only hope what I have to offer will be enough to cover the price of such an unfathomable deficit. In my pocket, my fingers grip a handful of ríkifjor. Seeds that blossom with magic—magic my father has been hoarding. Alia was trying to stop him. It’s time Urda is repaid.
I shoot from the chair to standing, the blanket across my lap spilling from my legs. Will looks up from his spot on the rocking chair, trance broken, concern in the slant of his eyes. I run to Katrine’s room for a cloak. It’s not raining, but the cloak is necessary to allow me to leave thehouse with the nightgown but without questions. I drop a small cobalt bottle and stopper from one of Katrine’s chests in the cloak’s pocket, fingers shaking with excitement. I know exactly what to do.
Will is on his feet as I exit Katrine’s room. The fire reflecting softly on their sharp expressions, Sofie and Agnata whisper between each other, drawing into themselves—suspicious that I’ve gone moon-crazy like last night.
When I step to the door, their eyes follow, and Will physically does. “Can I come with you?”
My heart stumbles inside my chest at the meaning behind that simple question. He knows he’s not asking for an invitation to stroll under the stars. And yet he still wants to come.
