Page 24

24

The greenwitch woke us shortly before dawn. By then Aric and I were clothed again, but we hadn’t left the bed. Exhaustion had claimed us both after a while, and we’d fallen asleep side by side, our fingers interlaced.

I rubbed sleep from my eyes and nudged Aric awake as the greenwitch removed her short cape, the grey fabric spotted dark with fat raindrops, and hung it beside the door. It settled neatly into place, assuming a shape worn familiar by the passage of years. She stooped over the washbasin to clean her hands. As she rolled up her sleeves, I tried to catch another look at the tattoos twining up her arms. Today they looked like ordinary ink. Nothing magical. But I didn’t quite believe their innocuous appearance.

“The rain’s stopping,” our host said over her shoulder. “Should be clear for travel within the hour.”

I sat up eagerly. We’d wasted so much time on my account. Our chances of making it to the border and back before the coronation dwindled with each delay, and if we couldn’t make it… I didn’t want to witness the chaos that would unfold. “Am I healed enough to ride?”

The greenwitch dried her hands and crossed to the bed. Aric moved to the stool to make room. My hand felt empty without his in it, even though I’d lived that way my whole life.

Our host eyed me critically, as if I were a piece of knitting that had dropped a stitch. “Let’s see the wound.”

I lifted my shirt so she could unwind the bandages. The greenwitch’s fingers were cool and dry against my skin.

“Hmm. Well, the rib’s healed, but it will continue to ache for a while. Flesh mends fast. Bones take time.” She gave me a pointed look. “But I don’t expect that will stop you from doing exactly what you think is best.”

I flushed, suddenly certain she knew what Aric and I had been up to.

I looked down at my side, where the bandages had been, and sucked in a startled breath. I’d expected to see an open wound, perhaps held together by stitches. Instead there was only a pink scar, tender and slightly raised, tracing across my ribs.

I lowered my shirt and looked up at the greenwitch, not quite believing my eyes. The Adept magic I was familiar with could build technological wonders, but it had little effect on the body. After the number of things they’d tried on me, I ought to know. “How did you do that?”

“Magic flows through everything. It just needs a bit of guidance.” The greenwitch gathered up my blood-browned bandages, no longer needed, and tossed them into a wash basket. “You’d heal faster if you slept again. You need it badly.”

I didn’t have time for sleep. “Can I ride, then?” I asked, not trying to disguise my impatience.

“Another day of rest would be better. But riding won’t kill you.” She looked at Aric. “It’s almost sunrise. The stable behind the infirmary is clean. I assume you can find your way back there.”

I turned my head towards the window. The sliver of sky showing through the shutters had brightened from midnight to periwinkle: sunrise was imminent.

Aric stood. “Thank you,” he told the greenwitch. He turned to me and gave me a smile so small I almost missed it. “I’ll meet you outside when you’re ready, Bianca.”

He slipped out the door. As it closed behind him, it felt like some essential part of me had left the room, too.

The greenwitch knew of Aric’s curse. A thought struck me, and with it a tentative hope.

“My husband,” I said to the greenwitch. “His curse. Can you help him?”

She shook her head. “I deal in wounds and broken things. Greenwitch magic isn’t like that.”

“But it’s still magic.”

The greenwitch’s lips flattened pensively. “It’s more than just the flavor of the spell. The particular enchantment on your husband is unusually strong. A temporary transformation—for instance, air into light…” She snapped her fingers, and a pale glow appeared on her palm. A miniature star that pulsed and then winked out. “Any competent practitioner can do that. But a long-term transformation? One that persists for days, and cycles back and forth? That sounds more like blood magic.”

My hand closed around the locket resting beneath my shirt. It pressed into my palm, warm from the heat of my body. I didn’t understand. Tatiana’s magic was wild, unpredictable—and strong. She’d once enchanted the door of the Council of Nine’s meeting chamber to cackle maniacally whenever anyone passed through it, until after a week of fruitless attempts to remove the spell the Adepts had finally replaced the door entirely. It had still been chuckling gleefully to itself as it was carted away. But Tatiana couldn’t have cast blood magic, not if what Aric had told me about the practice was true. Besides, I knew my sister—she wouldn’t put blood into her spells.

I thought of the scars from our wedding night now crossing my palms, a gilt map of an unplanned future. The same marks Aric had said were a sign of blood magic. A chill coursed through me, and I curled my hand tighter around the locket. Surely I hadn’t inadvertently cast blood magic. If I had, wouldn’t I have known?

The greenwitch had to be wrong. Tatiana would know the answer. We just had to reach her first.

“Here. This came for you.” The greenwitch rummaged in her pocket. “The chicken who delivered it gave me an earful. Didn’t like flying all the way from Arnhelm through the rain.”

“Chickens can’t fly,” I protested.

“Tell that to the chicken.” The greenwitch produced a small scroll and held it out to me. Another message from Evito. His delivery methods were certainly unconventional.

I read the missive twice, hoping I’d misinterpreted the ambassador’s sharply slanting script. A third perusal confirmed it beyond a doubt. My heart kicked into my throat.

I pushed back the blankets and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

“I’m going to talk to my husband,” I told the greenwitch.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ve done what I can for you.”

The room swayed when I stood up, but I braced myself on the headboard until the ground steadied under me. I found my shoes and crossed the hut, my steps as cautious as a toddling child’s, then stepped outside into the dawn.

Outside, the rain had stopped, leaving only a languid drip from eaves and branches; birds were trilling a chorus the finest court musicians would have envied. The trees were silhouetted against the sky, dark shapes like bristle-tipped spears. The mountains shone pale in the waxing light. I had only a few minutes before Aric transformed.

Several other buildings were set back among the trees, neat garden beds between them. A few bold shoots prodded their way loose from the dark earth, risking the teeth of another frost. Gentle puffs of smoke rose from the houses’ chimneys and blended into the mist. A worn track in the muddy earth led past the dwellings to wind around the back of the infirmary. I followed it, slower than I would have liked, leaning on each tree trunk and fence rail I passed.

The trail ended at a small but serviceable stable. A piebald horse thrust its head over one of the stable doors as I approached, whickering hopefully.

I stopped in confusion. “Aric? You were white before.”

“And I thought you would be able to tell your own husband from a regular horse.”

I turned. Aric, still human, stood in the next stall over, resting his elbows on the half door. He’d removed his shirt, and if my breath hadn’t already been short from the effort of walking, I would have lost it now. Want surged through me with the force of a tidal wave. Being with him earlier was nowhere near enough. Having him once only made me want him more, a fire that grew hotter the more it was fed.

I arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you made a habit of stripping naked in strangers’ stables.”

Aric’s flush was clear to see, even from a few steps away. Red as sunset against his pale cheeks, spreading down his bare neck towards his chest.

“I’m attempting to not waste any more clothing,” he said. “I’ve gone through several sets in the past few days.”

The corner of my mouth twitched. I wasn’t certain what had happened to the clothing—shredded to pieces or vanished by magic—but it was true he’d left a trail of missing trousers along our route from Arnhelm.

“Whose horse is this?” I asked.

“Ours, as of last night. We rode her here. Although I offered her to the greenwitch in exchange for supplies for the road, so now I suppose she belongs to the greenhaven.”

The horse—the real one—snorted. I rubbed her velvet nose, wishing I had more to offer her in exchange for saving our lives. I had so little to offer anyone, equine or otherwise. At least here she would be in better hands than with the brigands.

“You followed me,” Aric said. It was an invitation, not an accusation.

I stepped towards him, clasping my hands behind my back to prevent myself from running them over every part of his body within reach. My eyes, however, roamed lower, crossing the plane of his chest before being thwarted in their journey by the stall’s closed half door.

Right. I’d come here to tell him something important. If only I could pretend the news hadn’t reached me—was allowing us a moment to be happy really so much to ask?

But I had neither time nor luxury for selfishness. “I received an update from Ambassador Dapaz. They’re going through with the coronation—without you.” I hesitated. “They’re going to crown Lord Varin.”

Aric went as still as an iced-over lake.

I knew he hadn’t wanted to believe his half brother was behind the assassination attempt. He’d argued that Varin didn’t want him dead. But we’d hoped that leaving the castle, pretending that Aric was dead in truth, would draw out the forces responsible. And our ploy had worked—faster than either of us could have anticipated. Varin must have been making his preparations for weeks, if not months: courting factions to gather the support he needed; secretly arranging the treaty’s terms to lure a likely suspect to Gildenheim; and then arguing, under the aegis of a false grief, that with the equinox so close, Gildenheim couldn’t afford to risk not crowning a ruler of the proper bloodline, even an ille gitimate one. It explained why I’d been framed—it took suspicion off of Varin, and cleared the way for him to inherit. We had our proof, in actions if not in writing.

“There’s more,” I said reluctantly. “Marya has been arrested as a murder suspect. They found a bloodstained knife in her quarters.”

“That’s not possible.” Aric’s hands whitened on the stall door. “It’s a setup. How could she have murdered me? I’m not dead. And even if I were—”

“I know.” I laced my fingers through his. “I know she would never betray you.”

“ Everyone should know that. The entire court knows how close we are. Who gave the order to arrest her?”

“It has to be Varin,” I said. “Marya knows you’re alive. She must have been causing trouble for him—she wouldn’t let him take the throne from you without a fight.” I thought of how Aric warned Marya to be careful before we left. How she’d shrugged it off. If she and Aric were really as close as he’d said, of course someone with her temperament wouldn’t have sat safely back and watched while an enemy plotted against her king.

Aric’s fingers tightened on mine. His shoulders curved as if under a massive weight.

“It isn’t right,” he said. “All she’s done is be loyal to me.”

I put my hand on his cheek, leaning closer until he met my eyes again. “I know,” I said softly. With an effort, I cleared the worry from my face. I could be a shield for us both. “But we can free her and set this right. We still have time. We just need to break the spell and get back to Arnhelm before the coronation.”

Which was… if my count was right, on the third day from now. Only two full days to get to the border and back. Only two full days to stop a usurper and avert a war. Seas, it was so little time.

I met Aric’s eyes. “We’ll fix this together,” I promised, hoping my vow was one I could fulfill. “All of it.”

Aric raised his hands to my jaw, cupped my face as if it were something precious. “If anyone can, it’s you.”

In the final moments before sunrise, I pulled him to me and kissed him hard, trying to bury my fear and doubt. But they lingered, bitter against the sweetness of his lips. Aric might believe I could meet my promises. But I didn’t share his confidence in myself.