Page 47 of The Moorwitch

“Safe.Safe.You haven’t kept her safe. You’ve stolen her only defense from her. Her only means of protecting herself.”

“Magic is a double-edged sword and I—”

“But it is asword! She must learn how to wield it, or she could hurt herself again—”

“Again?” He draws in a slow breath, then releases it through tight lips. “So it’s true. She did channel.”

“And she nearly killed herself trying. If I had not got there in time—”

“If you had not been here, she would never have tried!” His snarl is half wild, and I take a step back, a splinter of fear striking me breathless.

“No! This isnotmy fault!” I push forward again, driving a finger to his chest. It is like prodding the side of a barn. “She is more powerful than any Weaver I have met. She is like a dry field, waiting for the smallest spark to set her aflame. And when she burns, Mr. North, she will not be able to stop.”

He shuts his eyes and stands as still as a mountain for a long minute, breathing in and out. I watch his face as the tension slowly drains from the muscles of his cheeks. The deep furrow between his brows relaxes, and even his shoulders drop.

Fates, it worked.

I finally got through to him.

Relief flows through me, and my hand drops to my side.

“I understand your fear,” I say quietly. “I do. But you will see. Magic will protect her. It will give her purpose and—”

“Purpose?” His eyes snap open, and I recoil from the rage in them. “You knownothingof my sister’s purpose, nor of mine. You understandnothing. Magic is a curse in our family. It always has been. You just said it yourself—it nearly killed her!”

“That is not what I—”

“Mrs. MacDougal told me you went to the village. Well, didn’t they tell you?” He gives a harsh laugh. “They love to gossip about us, tell stories of the mad Norths and their string of tragedies. Did they tell you about my father?”

I don’t look away. I won’t let him distract me from the enormity of his crime. “No.”

“He was a Weaver too. And his magic led him down paths which should never be taken, and he paid for it with his life. I found his body myself, aye, out on the moors, half burnt to ash.”

His voice nearly breaks, a hint of grief stabbing through his bitterness, and I am struck momentarily speechless. The horrifying image seizes my imagination: a younger Conrad, standing over a charred corpse ... “I—I’m sorry. Truly. But surely you see why this is further proof that Sylvie mustlearnto—”

“Miss Pryor, stop.” His tone is clad in iron. “This was a mistake. I should never have agreed to let you stay.”

“This isn’t about me!” I spread my hands wide, exasperated. “She will not stop trying! She needs to be taught how to channel safely!”

“She will stop. I will make her stop.”

He starts to turn away, but I grab his arm. “Even if you could, you’d be robbing her of her power. And when she’s older and understands that, she’ll despise you.”

The tension in his bicep is hard as rock. “Probably,” he says, his voice so soft I can barely make out the word. “But she’ll be safe.”

“Oh, you impossible, stubborn man!”

I pull away in disgust and turn back to the house. But blinded as I am by darkness and fury, I trip over a rise and crash into the heather, scraping my arms and face. The hill is steep, plunging into shadow, and I roll hard until, with a startled shout, I land in one of the cold little ponds that dot the moors. The water is only waist deep, but I flounder for footing, sputtering. Captain barks and races up and down the bank in a panic.

Mr. North is there at once, wading into the water toward me, his lantern abandoned on the shore. Silver moonlight ripples around him, and he peels off his coat and tosses it aside to free his arms. I grab hold of his hand to steady myself, cursing.

“What is it you always say to me, Miss Pryor?” he growls irritably. “Watch your language? Fates, you curse like a sailor.”

I tremble with anger. “Are you going to just stand there, or will you help me out?”

“Stop wriggling, and I might! You’re only making us both sink deeper, you mad creature.”

“I can’t help it! My shoe is stuck in the mud. Which is fortunate for you, or I’d be clobbering you with it!”