I raced back to my cave, arriving as the first wet flakes of snow began to fall. The wind whooshed wordlessly outside, souring my mood. If this was my father’s answer to the vespers I’d sung to him, I wasn’t impressed. Ina was down in the valley with Garen. I was on the mountain, alone. The thought of things remaining that way for the foreseeable future made me ill all over again. I hadn’t known true loneliness until I met Ina—until I knew what it was to want someone beside me always.
I put on a kettle filled with the lake water I’d gathered, and laid out my supplies close to the fire: empty vials, the blue fire flowers, small sachets of dried peppermint and black elderflowers I’d picked last summer, and finally the thin silver knife I used for all my magic work. Candles completed my preparations, arranged in a semicircle, as much for light as to invite the blessing of the fire god. I settled on the worn fabric of my wool-stuffed cushion, crossing my legs beneath me before closing my eyes and letting the outside world disappear.
I reached inside myself to the deep, dark place where magic swirled like a black river winding through my soul, peaceful and boundless as a night sky filled with glimmering stars. Warmth blossomed in my chest and swept through my veins, suffusing my body with magic, accompanied by the sudden, fierce longing to pick up the knife to set my blood free and put quill to paper. The magic begged me to write something, to shape the future into something better, though I knew every word would cause me pain. As always, I could not give in to the temptation. Only the gift of healing was mine to give.
When I opened my eyes, everything glowed in my Sight, living things surrounded by soft auras, and magical things, like the fire flowers and my silver knife, far brighter. I could use the Sight any time and often caught glimpses of it at the edges of my vision, but it was never as bright or clear as when I performed a magical ritual.
I placed a peppermint and elderflower sachet in each jar and poured boiling water in them to steep, sketching the symbols of the water, fire, and earth gods over each one to acknowledge their contributions. While the infusions darkened and cooled, I carefully plucked the lambent tubelike petals from each blue fire flower, the ones closest to the centers where the sparks at their hearts had once burned. They left soft trails of glittering dust on my fingertips.
After I pulled the sachets from the jars and squeezed them against the sides with the blade of my knife, the petals went in, seven for each container. From within myself I called forth a tendril of magic that I released into each vial, sketching the symbols of the spirit god and shadow god, who between the two of them held the powers of life and death. Finally, I asked my father to bless each one, for his cleansing air to sweep away any impurities laid before him. Each potion came to life, the fire flower petals dissipating into pinpoints of light that hung in the liquid like motes of dust in a summer sunbeam.
I stopped up each bottle with a piece of cork and lined them up with the others in the cabinet closest to the hearth, where the temperature would keep them from freezing at night.
Not certain if the storm might prevent Ina’s timely return, I considered going down the mountain myself. Then Miriel’s words of warning rose in my mind as they always did. If mortals knew the extent of my powers, they might try to manipulate or harm me to get what they wanted. Miriel’s favorite cautionary tale was about a demigod daughter of earth whose bones sprouted apple tree branches if they were left untended. The demigod had been cared for at one of the earth god’s temples, until a mortal lord caught wind of her extraordinary ability and abducted her. He put her in his garden and drove stakes through her arms and legs to espalier her like an ordinary shrub. Eventually her own growth swallowed her, encasing her in wood. It was said that when pressing an ear against the enormous tree, one could hear her weeping even as her branches bore the most exquisite fruit.
I packed and unpacked my satchel a few times, not sure what to do. If anyone died because I was too cowardly to go down to the village, those deaths would be on my hands. But as I made the final decision and reached for my cloak, Ina’s voice called from the mouth of my cave.
“Are you home?” she asked, slightly out of breath. My heart sped up at the sound of her voice. It was as if my thoughts had made her appear before me.
“Come in,” I called.
Ina’s cheeks were rosy from the mountain wind, her boots wet from trudging through the slush. A smile was on my lips before any thought could enter my mind.
“Can I set my boots by the fire?” she asked.
“Of course,” I said. After all this time, there wasn’t any need for her to ask permission, but I loved that she did. She had always been thoughtful about how she behaved in my space. I held out my hand. She smiled and gave her cloak to me. The things that went unspoken and the small familiarities we had with each other made me long for the contentment I’d felt with her last summer. It wasn’t the same with her manifest and betrothal hanging over us.
“How is the village?” I asked.
She sat down at my table while I put on the kettle. “The tinctures you gave me last week helped. No one else has fallen ill since then, and the only person we lost had already been sick for some time. I expect there to be a lot of gratitude shared when the community gathers tomorrow for the weekly tithe.” She sounded so much more optimistic than she had before.
Relief washed through me, a soothing balm to all my fears. “I’m so glad. I have more you can take when you leave.” It was convenient that she had come, but I was almost disappointed that I didn’t have reason to break the rules and make the journey to the village. Some dark part of me wanted to get a look at Garen. I trusted her, but he was an unknown—one of which I was very skeptical.
“I brought you something,” she said, interrupting my brooding thoughts.
“Oh?” I said, joining her at the table.
From her pocket she produced a black silk ribbon threaded through a flat piece of silver carved into the shape of a rearing dragon.
My breath caught. Wrap bracelets were given only as courting gifts. I’d often thought of making one for her but couldn’t risk her parents seeing it when they didn’t know about our relationship. It wouldn’t be easy to convince them to accept our love, not when they had such big dreams for their daughter. “It’s beautiful,” I said, and extended my wrist for her to tie it on. This had to indicate I meant more to her than the boy her parents expected her to marry.
Her fingers made swift work of it, dancing over my skin with the lightness of feathers.
“Thank you,” I said. I loved how it pressed on my skin like a promise.
“I knew it was meant for you from the moment I saw it.” She leaned across the table and kissed me, teasing the edge of the ribbon with her fingers to send tingles up my arm.
“Where did you get it?” I asked. There weren’t any metalworkers in Amalska.
“Garen gave me a few. His parents are silversmiths.” She shrugged.
“I’ll get the tea,” I said, turning so my face couldn’t give away that the gift had suddenly soured for me. Even if Ina loved me, she clearly meant more to Garen than a marriage of convenience for their villages. He wouldn’t have given her a gift like this otherwise, and if he’d arrived last fall carrying bracelets, he’d known he planned to court someone. I couldn’t figure out if I should be flattered that she gave a courting gift to me or upset that it was a hand-me-down from another suitor. Her seeming indifference about it gave me heart, but why did she tolerate his courtship at all if it wasn’t what she wanted? It must have been her parents’ expectations and her desire to help the village. Ina wasn’t someone to suffer anything that annoyed her. I wanted to ask her what it all meant, but what if I didn’t like the answer?
I dropped herb sachets into two thick mugs and poured the hot water over them, then made one last trip to the cabinets for some honey to satisfy Ina’s insatiable love of sweets.