Authors: Kate Sparkes
“Eat up,” I told her. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”
When I was alone again, I swung my legs over the low, stone edge of the new well and sat peering into its dark depths. “New” was a relative term. Newer than the house, but older than me. It was, indeed, dry. I didn’t need to send the bucket down to know that there was only thick mud at the bottom.
“Where are you?” I asked aloud. “We need you.”
I closed my eyes and focused on the magic in the garden. Aren was right. It was strong here. I thought about water. Not well-water, but a mighty river. When memories of Dorset Langley tried to intrude, I pushed him aside and replaced him with a beautiful waterfall. A still lake followed, where loons cried and merfolk might be lurking beneath the surface. The images calmed my mind, and I let everything else drift away.
Ulric had taught me to direct my magic using the depths of my anger and frustration, but I couldn’t bring myself to summon them in this peaceful place. My old life came back to me here. My innocence and ignorance, love and losses. I’d always felt safe here, blind to the horrors and possibilities of the outside world. If my magic was to work here, it would come on its own, in peace.
Crickets chirped deep in the shadows. An evening-lark called from the treetops, heralding night’s coming. My magic flowed in me and out of me, and I didn’t try to force anything. I just thought about water, peaceful and life-giving.
The water soaked my boots before I realized it was there. I laughed and pulled them out of the well, which was, for the first time, full to the brim. As I stepped back, the water sank.
“Don’t leave,” I called down the well. “Just stay where you are.” The water level held steady as I waited. “Good.” I closed my eyes again and felt for my magic. It had lessened, but this time I felt no panic. I trusted it would return soon enough, drawn from the garden I’d grown up in. There was no danger there. No fear, no pressure.
I dropped the bucket and pulled it up again, full to the brim, then hurried back to the kitchen, slopping more water over my feet in my rush to get inside.
“I did it!” I yelled, far too loud for indoors. “I got it!”
Matthew beamed as he took the bucket, dumped it into the big pot on the stove, and went back outdoors. Ashe clapped me on the back as he followed Matthew.
“What, no applause?” I asked Aren, who sat by the fire with Victoria. It looked like they’d been deep in conversation, but now both sat silent, looking pleased.
He gave me a half-smile that made my heart turn a somersault. “I had no doubt you could do it. Any ill effects?”
“None. I’m a little weak, but I’ll recover.”
He gave me an I-told-you-so look that I absolutely deserved, and we went to help bring water in.
It took a lot of trips to the well—and some subtle help from Aren to keep the fire hot—but a few hours later we were all clean, relaxed, and ready to sleep. Aren and I found clothes in the house to wear when Mother offered to wash ours. As anything I’d left behind in my rooms was fairly well destroyed, I ended up in one of aunt Vic’s white nightgowns, which covered me from neck to ankles in soft cotton and lace. Not an attractive style by any stretch of the imagination. I tried to sneak back to my room without being seen, but Aren waited for me in the hallway. He stood with one shoulder leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
“Damn.” He wiggled his eyebrows and leered at me.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“No, really. I like it,” he said, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. “Leaves a lot to the imagination.”
I mustered what dignity I could and held my chin high as I walked past. “Goodnight, Aren. Have fun with your imagination.”
“Goodnight, Rowan. I will.”
He’d been joking about the attractiveness of the nightgown, but that didn’t stop him turning to watch me as I walked away.
22
AREN
I
tried to behave myself. I didn’t knock on the wall, didn’t enter her dreams. She needed rest, as did I, but the separation irritated me. The added layer of distance, coupled with the nagging idea that she might decide to stay with her family, left me sleepless.
And what after that? What if she never returns to me?
What would become of her magic if she had no one to help her overcome her fears and her challenges? So many talented Sorcerers saw their gifts wasted through lack of education and development. I wanted her to have everything she’d ever dreamed of, but was no longer certain I could hope to give it to her.
I needed to talk to her about it, needed to see her. I waited until I felt certain everyone should be asleep, then went to the door. I opened my perceptions, scowled, and erased the expression before I opened my door.
Ashe sat on the floor of the hallway, holding a steaming mug of something that smelled strongly of cinnamon. One blond eyebrow arched, and waves of smug irritation washed off from him. I closed myself off.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” I asked. My jaw hardly hurt now, but I still wasn’t pleased with him.
He shrugged and sipped from his cup. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“So you decided to spend some time wandering the halls, and happened to stop to rest here outside my door?”
He nodded. “Did you need something? Toilet’s down the hall, if you’re looking for it.”
“I’ll remember that. Thank you.”
I returned to bed.
Just a few days with her family,
I reminded myself.
And then what? Though I wanted Rowan close by, though I thought we had a better chance of success with her power and potential on our side, I wouldn’t drag her back to face my father. Not after we’d disobeyed him.
If she came back, we might try harder to keep apart, no matter how it hurt. But for how long? No matter how well she avoided my father, how I tried to please him in other ways to soften his heart, the laws would not change. Not for me.
My thoughts grew cloudy and confused. I imagined us running away, disappearing like one of her illusions. I imagined her leaving, and me watching her embrace her gifts and love the life she made for herself while I sat chained to a throne, surrounded by empty statues and nodding puppets, turned heartless and cold as my father and brother before me.
I woke to a soft knock at my door and opened my eyes to dim sunlight filtering through the curtains. Rowan stood outside when I opened it, looking fresh and ready for anything, already dressed in her traveling clothes and holding mine in a neat pile. “Uncle Ches is back. Everyone’s getting ready to go,” she said. “There’s breakfast on the table, and Mother is packing the rest of the food. I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?”
Her smile faltered. “To the woods. Matthew, Vic, and I are going to say some goodbyes.”
I dressed quickly and headed to the kitchen.
A tall man with graying hair and a full beard sat eating bacon and oatmeal. He stood when I entered the room.
“Well,” he said, and wiped his mouth on a napkin. “Victoria told me we were entertaining royalty. I hope you slept well.”
“I did, thank you. You must be Rowan’s uncle.”
“Chester Greenwood. Pleasure to meet you.”
Ashe sat in the corner, yawning. Rowan’s mother, Lucilla, offered me a wan smile. She looked more tired than the last time I’d seen her, but appeared to be holding up well, given the circumstances. I couldn’t help picking up on her sense of obligation to her family, or the continuing distaste for me that she was trying not to acknowledge, even to herself. The others were no better. Much as they were glad to have Rowan alive and well, those I could read wished me gone.
I closed myself off to them as well as I could. These people were so open, as defenseless as anyone I’d attacked in their land.
No wonder they feared people like me.
“Help yourself to breakfast, Aren,” Lucilla said, and forced a smile she probably thought was genuine. “Might as well finish what we’ve cooked. We won’t be taking it with us.”
“Thank you.” I wondered whether I should warn them, teach them to close their minds as I’d been attempting with Nox, as my father had instructed Patience. But drawing attention to it would make them think me more of a monster than they already did. I decided to leave it, and try to ignore anything I picked up from them. I could ignore them as long as emotions didn’t run high and no one got drunk. This wouldn’t be the first time I’d been surrounded by hostility, and at least they were trying to overcome it for Rowan’s sake.
The food was incredible, hot and perfectly seasoned. I hoped the people traveling with my father would soon be eating this well. But that would depend on Victoria and Rowan, if they came back with me.
We’d have to talk. Later. Alone. For now, I’d try to be friendly with everyone, whatever that meant in this situation.
It clearly pained Lucilla to leave a mess behind, but there was no point worrying about the dishes when the house was practically a ruin and no one planned to come back any time soon.
We met the others in the garden, minus Matthew. Everyone stayed well away from Ruby, who had decided to sleep inside the wall after all. Rowan’s reassurances had done little to calm anyone’s nerves about the massive beast.
“Matthew’s gone to collect the horses,” Rowan explained before I could ask. “They seem to have wandered off.”
Ruby lifted her head from where it had been resting in the crook of a tree. “I didn’t eat them. I enjoyed a lovely, strong doe last night, and had a goat for dessert.”
“Oh, dear,” Victoria murmured. “I’d hoped to take Melvina with us.”
The dragon yawned. “All I was told was to not eat the horses.” Her eyes brightened and focused on Ches. “What’s in the bag, human man?”
He stepped back. “Nothing. Necessities.”
“Not gold? No gems?”
Ches held the bag tight. He obviously knew a thing or two about dragons. “Just a few things to barter along the way.”
Ruby grinned. “I could help you carry that.”
“I’m sure he can handle it,” I said, and the dragon pouted. I had to look twice to believe it.
Matthew returned, leading three horses.
“Jigger!” Rowan cried, and threw her arms around a massive chestnut that I remembered from my first visit.
Matthew patted the horse’s neck. “Yes, the old boy’s still with us. Your mother and Ashe brought him when they came. Let’s load the wagon and be off.” The man’s voice was thick with grief, but his eyes remained dry.
We soon had everything packed—food, extra clothing and blankets, knives and bows and arrows, pots, seedlings, a few books Ches wouldn’t leave behind.
“What about us?” Florizel asked. She nodded toward Ruby. “We can’t walk with you on the road. We’re bound to meet people, aren’t we?”
“True,” Rowan said. She looked over the horses and the wagon. “You two fly ahead to Tyrea. Ruby, if you need to leave us, I wish you well. Florizel, you are of course free to leave, but if you’ll consent to coming the rest of the way, you could wait for us outside the town where we left Patience.”
Ruby snorted, sending smoke into the air. “I’m not going to miss the rest of this. Mistress Feathers and I will both be waiting for you in Tyrea.”
Florizel didn’t look comfortable with the idea, but also didn’t object. She nodded goodbyes to all of us. “Be careful,” she said, and took off. Ruby didn’t bother with goodbyes, though she did take one last, longing look at Ches’s bag before she pushed off. The down-drafts from her wings nearly flattened us all.
Lucilla shook her head as she watched them leave. “Rowan, you have made some interesting friends, haven’t you?”
Rowan smiled at her mother. “That I have.”
A black horse pulled the cart, which Victoria, Ches, and Lucilla made themselves comfortable in. Jigger was large enough to carry me with Rowan riding behind, and Ashe took the smaller, dun-colored mare. Victoria looked back over her shoulder until the house disappeared from sight.
“It’ll be okay,” Rowan told her. “It’s hard to leave it behind, but there are good things waiting beyond the mountains. You’ll see.”
Victoria’s expression brightened, if only a little. “You would know, I suppose.” To my surprise, she winked at us.
Perhaps the family wasn’t all bad.
The roads around Stone Ridge were blessedly quiet, and for a time we kept it that way. We’d all be holding our breaths until we made it over the border, no matter how smoothly things went before then. There was no laughter, no conversation. There were also no questions, which I considered a good thing. Rowan’s mother seemed to be attempting to accept her daughter’s new situation, and Victoria to accept her own. Ches and Matthew were pleasant, but guarded enough that I suspected they’d heard of my gifts. Ashe’s dislike for me remained clear, but he said nothing about it.
The magic in the air and the land lessened as we moved away from the garden, and I experienced the familiar ache to be home in Tyrea. The people of Darmid had destroyed so much, so quickly and so recklessly. But there was hope, and that was something.
Victoria moved to the side of the cart and leaned over to speak to me and Rowan. “Do you feel that?” she asked. “The emptiness?”
Rowan nodded. “Most of the country is like this. Ardare is worse, there’s hardly any magic there. It gets better in the mountains.”
Victoria’s eyes sparkled. “I can’t wait.”
Lucilla looked a little green, though I couldn’t tell without intruding whether it was from the rocking of the cart or the conversation. I lowered my voice to a level just loud enough for Victoria to hear over the rumble and creak of the wagon’s wheels.
“You caused all of that damage at Stone Ridge?” I asked, and she nodded. “It’s quite amazing. You’ve had no training?”
“None.” Her eyes took on a distant look. “It’s a gift I’ve always had. Not that I wanted to admit it was magic, of course, but it’s natural. Easy. This was just a case of me pushing myself, embracing what I could do and the fact that I was using magic, and pushing it hard.” She frowned. “It exhausted me. Took weeks to do it, and I was ready to collapse every time I worked at it.”