“Have you thought about whether you might be able to help with my manifest?” she asked, spooning honey into her tea until the liquid rose dangerously close to the top of the mug.
I nodded reluctantly. The thought of giving her the knowledge she needed to manifest in the old way frightened me. The ritual did not include a vow to one of the Six Gods or the customary oath to serve the monarch. Sharing the information with her could be interpreted as treason. But the king had chosen not to help us, so now we had to take care of ourselves. Besides, knowing that Garen was courting Ina made everything feel more pressing.
“Tell me? Please? I’ll do anything.” She reached across the table and took my hand.
“You have to make me a promise,” I said.
“Anything.” She squeezed my hand.
“Swear to me you won’t try this ritual except as a last resort. And if it turns out to be the only answer, promise me that you’ll always act in the interest of Zumorda and its people.” It wasn’t too much to ask.
“Of course.” She nodded, her expression serious. “Nothing is more important to me than Amalska and my family. It’s why I hope to become an elder.”
I sat back on my stool and took a deep breath. “Miriel told me about an old way to take a manifest, used ages ago before manifests or the monarchy were bound to the Six. The ritual is one of blood, not to be taken lightly. If something goes wrong, you could die. You can’t try this unless there is no other way.”
Ina set down her tea and leaned forward. She had always liked dark stories and tall tales. Her favorite was the legend of the griffin queen, a Zumordan monarch who had somehow taken two manifests—an eagle and a lion. Sometimes she appeared as one of the manifests, other times both at once to strike terror into her enemies. She’d made short work of the badger king and his champions. I hoped Ina would understand that what I was about to tell her was no parable. If she attempted to manifest in the old way, she would be taking her life in her hands. I didn’t even know if it would work.
Instead of asking one of the gods to send her manifest animal to her, she’d have to call it herself. She’d have to bind the creature with her own blood instead of asking the gods to seal the union and bless her as she merged with it. I explained the details as she listened with a serious expression on her face.
“You mean this ritual doesn’t include an oath to the Six?” Ina asked. “What would I be bound to, then, besides the animal?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but my guess would be the land itself. Life itself. The magic that ebbs and flows all around us,” I said. It was the best assumption I could make based on what Miriel had told me and my Sight revealed to me about manifests.
“The magic you can see as a demigod?” Ina’s eyes widened.
I nodded slowly. The spark of excitement in her eyes worried me. Blood magic should never be taken lightly. I knew that better than anyone.
“If I succeed, would there be any consequences to having this different kind of manifest?” She frowned, concerned.
I thought for a moment. “I doubt anyone would be able to tell, not unless they could see magic. So another demigod. Or the king, if he can borrow that ability from the gods.” I wasn’t sure what the boar king’s geas with the spirit god allowed him to do.
“I think it’s safe to say the king will never visit Amalska. He can’t even be bothered to send any help to villages this far south. If he had, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.” She muttered a curse under her breath.
“I know,” I said. “But please, Ina . . . understand that the blood rite could kill you if it goes wrong. If that happened, I could never forgive myself.” Fear consumed me at the thought of losing her.
She met my eyes. “I know that manifestation should happen in its own time, but I’m not sure how much longer I can wait. There are so many others expecting me to take a position of leadership soon. I need to be able to live up to those expectations.”
“There’s a lot of pressure on you,” I acknowledged. “But what do you truly want?”
“I don’t know,” she said, tracing her finger around the edge of her mug. “I want to do what’s right for my community, and my parents think that means marrying Garen, but I’m not sure. I feel like I’d be more certain about everything if I had my manifest.”
Disappointment swelled in my breast. I wanted her to be sure about me, if nothing else. “You’ve always said you want to be a leader, but there might be other ways to achieve that than marrying. Ways that allow you more autonomy.”
“You’re so good to me,” she said. “That’s what I love about you. You always want the best for me and to let me find my own path.” Her eyes brimmed with warmth.
“I care about you. That’s all,” I said. The words were far too small.
The truth was that I was selfish. I wanted her to be free to choose me. I wanted some hope of a future for us, no matter how fleeting it was in the face of my much longer life. I wanted the best for her, but I wanted to be the best thing for her.
“I care about you, too.” She reached across the table and traced her fingertips over the back of my hand. The knot between my shoulder blades eased a little. I needed to have faith that everything would work out as it was meant to.
After our tea was gone, we retreated to bed. I lost all sense of time as words became far less important than the spells woven and stories told by her hands on my skin. Afterward we went deeper into the mountain to soak in the hot spring of my bathing chamber, but by the time we emerged warm and hungry, it was to howling wind.
“Listen,” I said. Outside, pine boughs finally free of snow hissed against one another with every gust. “The trail won’t be safe.”
“I didn’t want to go home anyway.” Ina smiled, and brushed a lock of hair from my cheek. “Is it all right if I stay? My parents won’t mind. They’d rather I be safe. I’ll have to leave early in the morning to be back in time for the community meeting—if the wind has died down.”
“Of course,” I said.
I wanted her to stay until the snow melted.
Until the flowers bloomed.
Until the leaves fell.
Until the winter returned again.
I wanted her always.
So we passed the evening talking, sharing a meal of spiced boar stew with juniper and a dessert of cherry preserves spread on thick slices of butter cake she’d brought. Long after night fell, when our conversations finally gave way to yawning, I brewed her some chamomile and valerian tea, rubbed her pillow with lavender, and gently stroked her hair until her eyelids grew heavy.
“You’re everything that’s good in my world,” she mumbled, kissing my fingers just before she drifted off. My love for her almost drowned me in that moment. But once her breathing grew soft and even, I lay awake, troubled.
Miriel had never told me if blood manifests worked differently from gods-blessed ones. Could some evidence of the ritual disqualify Ina from becoming an elder? Worse, what if my darkest fears came true and she died trying it? I would be to blame.
If I got over my cowardice, I could prevent Ina from having to perform the blood rite at all. Would it hurt to use my true gift one time to bring hope and happiness to someone I loved and trusted? To help the village I was put here to protect? I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.
Perhaps the effects on me wouldn’t be severe if I helped along the process of Ina finding her manifest rather than dramatically changing the future. It would hurt, but not as much as it would wound me to see Ina suffer. The smaller workings I’d done with Miriel by using a little of my blood to intensify tinctures or to temporarily bestow some of my powers on her had never had dire consequences. There had been fevers, some minor aches, but not the agony of that one time I’d written the future.