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He sighed. “I’m trying, Frostbite.”
“Just give me a second. I have a True Sight spell. Maybe I can find them.”
I cast, letting magic guide me. It was really only to know people’s feelings, but if they were further away, the magic took longer to work, almost as if a link formed between me and the person. I’d never used the power to find someone, but if there was an emotion, I could feel it.
“Someone is moving away from us. I think they’re in the back.”
He was gone in a flash, and I could barely keep up as we rounded the corner, and a boy came into sight, his back to us as he scurried into the mass of dead trees behind the home. As we neared and Atlas shouted for him to stop, the boy froze.
He turned slowly, his sour face holding a scowl. “If you come any closer, I’ll cast fire and burn it here and now.”
“Why?” The word was out of my mouth before I could even think it through.
“The king is no real king. Ask my father. He says he’s a dick tato.”
“A dictator?” Atlas asked with a smile, taking a small step forward.
The boy moved backward, the log snug in his arms.
He lifted his hands to the boy, palms out. “We’re not here to cause trouble, little guy. Just give us the log, and we’ll be on our way.”
The boy propped the log a little higher in his grip so he could free a hand. He looked Atty square in the face as a flame burst to life in his palm. Behind us, a door slammed open and before we could react at all, a woman’s voice screeched through the frozen air. “Charles Rivergrain, you put that log down right this instant.”
A plump, little woman stood with fists on her hips as she glared at the boy, face red with fury.
“Didn’t detect that one?” Atlas whispered.
“I didn’t even know if it would work when I picked up on the kid,” I hissed back.
“But, Ma… You heard Father last night. This holiday shouldn’t be about the dick tato’s demands. He should do something for us instead.”
The woman stormed forward just as he extinguished his flame. She grabbed Charles by the ear and dragged him to stand before Atlas, who somehow seemed to grow ten feet as he stared down at the boy. There could have been malice in his eyes, hatred for the way he spoke about Bash. But instead, he took a knee. Though still taller than the boy, he made himself small.
“May I please have your Yule log?”
Charles rolled his eyes and plopped the log into Atlas’ arms.
“I know what it’s like to hear the preachings of your elders and feel that burn to follow. It’s so much easier to hate someone than it is to understand them. But as a representative of King Bastian Firepool, he’s asked me to deliver something to you. Because he would never want to take something from you without also giving back.”
The hardness in the boy’s eyes faltered for just a flash.
“I could keep it,” Atlas said. “If you don’t want it. Even though he sent it especially for you.”
“You’re lying.”
Atty stood, shrugging. “Suit yourself. Come on, Marley, we’ve gotta get out of here.”
Reaching for my hand, he walked away.
Charles’ shout interrupted the woman’s quiet lecturing. “Wait.”
“Oh sorry, did you say something?” Atlas asked with a grin.
“Far as I can tell, the king owes me anyway. After all, I had to help my mother with the stinking spell.”
We got no further than three steps beyond the front of the cottage when faces appeared in the windows. The boy, for all his sass, shied away from the stares, moving closer to his mother’s skirts.
She hugged him to her side. “Charles, my darling, one day you will learn that kindness breeds kindness, no matter the past. Your father should not encourage you so.”
