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“Enough,” I said, and shooed him back to the crowd. But my mind churned. Movement; was there something to that? The spell was focused on softening, loosening. But heartbeats? Air moving in and out of lungs? I went to add another phrase and paused, the chalk dangling in midair above the sketched sigils.

Sinking to the ground, I started to write. The sigils flowed more quickly than my mind could follow; the spell nearly doubled in length. I didn’t stop to think. A sort of knowing had taken over, like I could feel the shape of the spell itself, like I was molding the magic I wanted into phrasings rather than using phrasings to coax the magic out.

It felt right. I didn’t need to read the spell back. I had it now; the song of it in my head.

I strode back to the statue of the old lady and started to scribble sigils in the air, pouring power into it. Kalcedon was talking to one of the other witches. He stopped mid-sentence as he felt me cast and hurriedly fed power into me once more.

Halfway into the spell, the woman’s windswept hair inched softer. It dropped down against her stone skin. Her little finger trembled. Two-thirds through now, and the woman blinked. Color came slowly back into her. I finished casting with a twist of my left hand. A thin veneer of stone shattered, and the woman fell to her knees with a cry.

The watchers erupted in applause and cheers as the other witches helped her to her feet. They ushered her over to the waiting crowd. I sank down and rested my head in my trembling hands with a smile.

It had taken more out of me than I’d expected, but I felt triumphant nonetheless. Kalcedon came over to check on me. I quickly stood to stop anyone from worrying.

“I’m fine,” I told him. “Let’s do the next one.”

We took breaks between each statue. The crowd supplied lemon water, figs, and bread, watching in silence as each spell was worked and erupting in raucous applause at each returned figure. Three more witches arrived as we worked; word was still spreading.

The man with the shattered nose and hand could be saved, but we couldn’t restore what had broken off his body. He trembled and fought back tears as his partner rushed forward to hold him. I turned away and closed my eyes.

It was midafternoon by the time we finished. Kalcedon and I shivered from cold, so drained we were both flirting with danger. A dozen strangers offered food, money, praise, and shelter. Oraik shooed them off and shuffled us both back towards the inn, where our belongings awaited us.

“You can’t sail like this,” Kalcedon croaked.

My whole body trembled. I knew I was in a bad way. Not so much cold—Kalcedon, who was barely warm, had made sure of that—but exhausted in every way. Still, we needed to leave. It was too risky here, especially after such a public casting. We were in no shape to defend ourselves if faeries attacked, and the witches of Koraica were in no shape to help us.

“I’ll be fine in a moment,” I said. I put my hand out on one of the limestone buildings to support myself.

“No, you won’t. We’ll leave tomorrow,” Kalcedon insisted. “You need sleep. Lots of it.”

We both looked at Oraik.

“What? Don’t look at me. You two decide,” he said.

“We’re staying. Look at her,” Kalcedon said, and pointed at me.

“Look at yourself,” I muttered, as my knees threatened to buckle.

Oraik sighed. “Kalcedon’s right. You need rest, both of you. We’re staying.”

“Don’t coddle up to him. He wanted to kill you,” I reminded the prince. Oraik only snorted and pushed open the door to the inn.

I don’t know how I hauled myself upstairs and into my bed. All I know is, I was asleep the moment my face hit the pillow.

Chapter 41

We gathered in the private dining room a few hours later for what was meant to be a quick meal. I was still tired and chilled, but no longer shaking after my nap.

The innkeeper emerged from the back balancing trays of food. Another woman and a young boy followed her with more. They set a feast on the table: stewed snails, rabbit with olives (Kalcedon’s face was invisible behind his mask, but I knew he was grimacing), spicy lentils with artichoke and halaby pepper, meat-stuffed dumplings in a clear broth. Next came a pitcher of sweet wine and a dish of baked eggs with mushrooms and sheep’s cheese.

“We didn’t order any of this,” Kalcedon said. I intercepted the rabbit and placed it as far from him as I could.

“Consider it a thank you.” She set the final item, a plate of almond cake, on the only empty bit of the table remaining. “Word’s going round, what you did for our people. Your rooms are free tonight as well. The whole city’s helping pay.”

We all exchanged looks.

“Can you ask them to stop?” Kalcedon started to say.

“Thank you,” Oraik interrupted, talking over him and smiling at the woman. “Thank everyone, please.” The innkeeper smiled back and left the room as Kalcedon leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh.