We walked back to the caves. Isolfr was too weak to transform into the wind to carry us, and so we made our way on foot through the cold, dim dawn. It took a long time. When we left the palace, a seam of pink light had already appeared in the east, and by the time I could smell the sea again the sun was high overhead. But walking required less energy than magic, and after the battle it was enough to make me feel normal again.
Eventually, we came to the cave entrance. I’d expected to find a guard there, maybe the ferryman who’d brought us in from the Penelope II, but the entrance was unprotected. Isolfr stopped.
“This is odd, don’t you think?” he said.
“Is it?” Trystan pushed past him. “We know Foxfollow’s not here.”
Isolfr and I looked at each other.
“He’s right about that, at least.” Really, though, I was just too weary to think about fighting anymore. I followed Trystan into the cave. The veins of light seemed brighter than usual, twinkling in the darkness like stars. I shuffled down the path, Isolfr at my side. I knew I should be more aware. I just didn’t have the energy.
And then I heard music.
“What’s that?” Trystan stopped up ahead and turned around to look at Isolfr and me. “Do you hear that too?”
I nodded. The music was coming from deep inside the caves. It was bright and jangling and joyful, and every now and then it was accompanied by an explosion of laughter.
“What the hell’s going on?” I said.
“Well, we did just defeat Lord Foxfollow,” Trystan said.
“But how could they know that?” I looked at Isolfr. “Do you think they had some way of—tracking him?”
Isolfr frowned. “I doubt it. Any magic those outlaws could conjure up wouldn’t be able to track Foxfollow.”
“I agree,” said Trystan. “They were probably just drinking off their loss from yesterday and got a bit enthusiastic.” He shambled forward. “I will say this: my idea of a celebration right now is more akin to a nap than a party.”
I didn’t like this. As far as the outlaws were concerned, they still had a second battle to plan.
“Should we find out for sure?” I asked Isolfr. Trystan had already disappeared around the bend in the corridor. “You don’t think this is some kind of trap?”
“Foxfollow’s dead,” Isolfr said. “I know that much.” He reached over and grabbed my hand.” Let’s see what they’re celebrating.”
And so we made our way into the main room. Everything looked like a party. Magic-cast lanterns floated through the air, casting multicolored light on the gray walls. A trio of outlaws was sitting up at the front of the room, playing the instruments they had used to smuggle their weapons into the palace—I was surprised that they actually worked, and that the outlaws could actually play. The rest of the crowd was dancing and drinking. They didn’t notice us walk in.
I stared at the party without comprehension. Everyone was laughing, smiling, toasting one another. Mugs of ale slammed into each other. Men whirled each other around in some kind of drunken dance.
“Well,” Trystan said, materializing at my side, “I guess our efforts didn’t go unnoticed.”
“But how could they know?” I said. Beside me, Isolfr gasped.
And then I saw her.
It was the Queen of Jandanvar. Queen Penelope. She wore the shaggy furs and rough wool of the outlaws, but there was no way to disguise the aristocratic loveliness of her features. She sat at a stone table with Kolur at her side, one hand wrapped around a mug of ale. She leaned in close to Kolur, smiling. Said something to him that made him grin like an idiot.
The three of us stared at her in shock.
“When we defeated Lord Foxfollow,” Isolfr said, “it just—broke her spell?”
“I’ll be damned,” said Trystan. He laughed. “I should have known, though. The spell seemed so complicated, it makes sense that really it was just easy.” Another disbelieving laugh. “Foxfollow. Crafty bastard.”
Kolur glanced across the party and caught my eye. He stood up, nearly knocking his drink over in the process.
“Where the hell were you?” he shouted at me.
“What’s going on?” I shouted back.
Kolur grinned again, that stupid goofy grin I’d never seen before. He took Penelope by the hand and pulled her to her feet, and she smiled up at him, then smiled at me from across the room.
“She’s awake,” he said. “And she says Foxfollow’s dead!”
Dead. The word had a finality to it that at once made me shudder and made me want to sigh with happiness. Foxfollow was dead. We had won.
“I know!” I called back. “We’re the ones who—who stopped him.”
Half the outlaws in the room turned toward me. I wanted to shrink down under the weight of their stares.
“What?” said Kolur, and then he made a swatting gesture at the band. The music slowly clattered into silence.
The outlaws’ raucous conversation died away. One by one they looked over at me. Looked over at us. Trystan, Isolfr, and me, the ones who had defeated Lord Foxfollow.
“It’s true,” Isolfr said, stepping forward. “We broke into the palace while you slept. We found him—”
“I killed him,” Trystan said. “The only one who could do it, you know. Should have saved yourselves some trouble and taken me on the first go-round.” He didn’t seem exhausted anymore. Maybe the attention had rejuvenated him.
He glided forward and gave a deep bow toward Queen Penelope. “Trystan Llambric of the Llambric lands of the Mists. But don’t hold that against me.”
Queen Penelope tittered. She glanced over at Kolur, then back at Trystan.
“I won’t,” she said, her voice ringing out strangely in the echo of the cave.
“I’m always at your service, Your Highness. Your kingdom is practically a part of my world too.”
She smiled. It was radiant, like sun bouncing off a glacier. “The people of Jandanvar owe you a debt. I owe you a debt.” She lifted her face and looked at me, at Isolfr. “You two as well,” she said. “Come.” She beckoned us with two fingers. “I’d like to speak to all of you. In front of these witnesses.” She lifted one arm and swept it out across the room, and despite the tattered clothes she looked as regal as she had when I first saw her in the throne room.
The outlaws all stared at her, silent and transfixed. Isolfr was the first to move toward her. I followed, my heart racing. We lined up next to Trystan. Queen Penelope smiled down at us.
“I owe you a debt,” she said, pressing her hand to her heart. “It would be my great honor if you would agree to an old Jandanvari custom.”
One of the outlaws shouted, “The Marista?”
I’d never heard that word in my life. One look at Trystan told me he hadn’t either.
Queen Penelope nodded. “Yes,” she said. “The Marista.”
The outlaws erupted into cheers. Isolfr was beaming, his eyes shining. “What’s the Marista?” I whispered to him.
“You’ll see,” he said.
“As Queen of Jandanvar,” Penelope said, “I’m authorized—when I see fit—to grant certain wishes. They must fall within reason, of course. That is, they must be things I can do. But rest assured, I can do quite a lot.” She winked. The outlaws cheered again. Kolur laughed. “In exchange for your service, I will grant each of you one wish.” She held up her hand. “You need not choose them now. But I will complete the ceremony on the night of my wedding to Kolur Icebreak—”
I gaped at Kolur. He shrugged. “I asked, she said yes,” he said. “Figured she didn’t want to waste all those decorations.”
Frida laughed beside him.
“Make your decision in a week’s time,” Penelope said. “The lands of Jandanvar thank you.”
The outlaws cheered again, and then the music kicked up. Queen Penelope turned back to Kolur and he swept her up in his arms and led her out to the center of the room to dance. I stumbled over to the closest table. Frida appeared with a glass of ale, which she slid over to me.
“Don’t drink it too fast,” she said.
I looked past her, over to where Isolfr and Trystan were speaking a few paces away. They were both grinning, laughing. Talking about what wishes they’d have granted, no doubt.
“The Marista,” Frida said. “That’s an awfully impressive honor.”
I took a sip of the ale. “I could tell.”
She laughed and leaned forward. “What wish will you have fulfilled?”
I looked into the surface of my ale. It was dark and frothy. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve been wanting to go back home all this time.”
“Is that still what you want?” she said.
She was staring at me, her eyes sparkling. I swirled my ale around. I thought of the adventures of the last few months. Tulja and the Annika, traveling through the Mists while disguised as a servant. I thought about fighting monsters and bringing Lord Foxfollow to the in-between place. I thought about Isolfr. I thought about magic.
“I’m not sure anymore,” I finally said.
• • •
Just as she promised, Queen Penelope married Kolur a week later. The ceremony was held at the palace, and you couldn’t even tell that a battle had taken place there. The gray mass had vanished, and the palace had returned to the pristine snow-white stone of before. Inside, everything was polished and shining. The carpets were clean, and the tapestries depicted the lineage of the royalty of Jandanvar, rather than bloody hunts. The hallways were bustling with servants and courtiers and performers.
The ceremony itself was a grand affair. It took place outside in the gardens, heat-globes drifting through the air to keep us warm. Strange trees grew out of the hard, frozen ground, their leaves transparent and sparkling like ice. Isolfr explained to me that Jandanvari weddings always took place outside and at night so that the stars could bear witness to the couple’s new future together. It was a lovely idea, and I threaded my arm through Isolfr’s as we strolled through the garden and wondered what the stars thought of the two of us. We were dressed in complementary outfits—I had been given a brocade dress with fabric the same shimmering white-blue as ice on a lake. Isolfr’s suit was the same color, although shot through with darker blue. I laughed when I first saw him.
“We’re twins,” I said.
He blushed. “It’s customary for couples to wear similar colors here,” he said.
And that made me blush.
The excitement of the wedding was almost enough for me to forget about the Marista. All day I’d been watching singers and puppeteers, feasting and dancing, and all day I knew I would need to make a decision. I’d already sent a letter to Mama and Papa through the queen’s personal wizard, telling them everything that had happened since I was pulled into the Mists. At the very beginning, I wrote I AM SAFE in big block letters so they wouldn’t worry. I hadn’t gotten a response back yet, but I knew it was too soon for one.
I told them about the Marista, but I didn’t tell them my decision—mostly because when I wrote it, I hadn’t made one. But when I finished the letter and sat back and read over my adventure, I knew I couldn’t go back home and become a fisherman like Papa. I’d finally had a taste of the wider world, and I knew, as much as I loved my family, and as much as I would miss them, that things would never be as simple as they’d been before.
A bell chimed, echoing through the garden. It sounded like starlight. Isolfr stopped and looked at me. “It’s time,” he said in a soft voice.
“For the Marista?”
He shook his head. “For the marriage.”
I smiled at that, trying to quell the queasiness in my stomach. After the ceremony would come the Marista, and then I would have to make my final decision—I would have to formalize my future.
Isolfr and I were given places in the front row, next to Frida and Trystan and surrounded by courtiers. He and I held hands as Penelope and Kolur promised themselves to each other. They wound silvery-white ribbons around each other’s arms, and Queen Penelope sang the prayer of the bride in a voice like hot melted sugar. The priestess anointed them with scented oil and placed crowns of flowers on their heads as she spoke in a language I couldn’t understand. It was a short ceremony, and beautiful, and when they finished they ran through the crowd, their white-ribboned hands clutching each other. Music spilled out of the garden and they danced together to finalize their devotion to each other, the stars twinkling overhead.
When the song ended and Kolur and Penelope kissed, the crowd leaped to their feet and applauded. Penelope held up one hand to silence us.
“Tonight is a special night,” she called out. “For we are not celebrating only a wedding, but a Marista as well—a triple Marista, in honor of the three heroes who saved our world from the wiles of Lord Foxfollow.”
The applause that followed her pronouncement rolled over me like thunder. I could feel it deep inside my chest.
“May the three come forward,” she said, “to receive your wishes.”
I looked over at Isolfr. He was smiling, as bright as starlight. I didn’t share his happiness. A few moments away and I knew what I wanted to ask for, but not if I would have the courage to ask for it.
Trystan went up first, waving at the crowd. They cheered for him, seemingly not caring that he was a man of the Mists, and he basked in their admiration, soaking it up like the sun.
“Lord Trystan of Llambric,” Queen Penelope said, “what is your wish?”
Trystan straightened his shoulders. He looked over the crowd. “My greatest wish has already been granted,” he said, “and that was to see Lord Foxfollow killed.”
Applause so loud it threatened to call snow down from the sky.
“He destroyed my family’s name because of a centuries-old feud,” he said, “and took away our lands and placed them under his control. And while I’ve freed your land from Foxfollow’s grasp, I’m afraid mine is still tainted by his influence. He humiliated me in the days before I crossed over, and it will be difficult for me to return in my damaged state.”
The audience had gone silent. They watched him with wide eyes.
“All I ask,” Lord Trystan said, “is a title in Jandanvar. A connection to this world I helped save, and a way for me to begin rebuilding my family’s honor.”
There was a pause. Queen Penelope stepped forward and placed her hand on the top of Trystan’s head. He closed his eyes.
“My debt is paid,” she said. “And your wish is granted.”
Something seemed to flow out of Trystan. A tension, perhaps, a fear of the future. He slumped beneath Penelope’s touch and sighed. The crowd roared their approval, and Trystan leaned close to Penelope and murmured something to her that I couldn’t hear over the applause.
Penelope waited until the cheers died away before calling Isolfr.
“The North Wind,” she said, “Spirit of Jandanvar, blessed protector.”
The applause for Isolfr was more muted than it had been for Trystan—reverent, really. He walked forward. No one in this garden could mistake him for human, not in this moment. He was too beautiful.
“What is your wish?” asked Penelope.
Isolfr gazed over the crowd. I looked at him, my heart pounding. He’d already told me what he was going to ask for. It was a small thing, I thought. Nothing like the decision I would need to make.
“I don’t want to ever have to do something like that again,” he said.
The crowd burst into laughter, and Queen Penelope clasped her hands together and laughed too. Isolfr gave a wry smile out to the crowd.
“I mean no disrespect,” he said, stammering a little. “But please—promise me you won’t try to marry any more lords of the Mists. That’s all.”
I half expected Penelope to be angry with him, but instead she smiled and laid her hand on Isolfr’s head.
“You have my word,” she said. “I will not agree to marry into the Mists again. My debt is paid, and your wish is granted.”
Isolfr moved aside. My face felt hot. Queen Penelope turned toward me and she was all I could see. I could not think about the audience, about the stars, about the wind spirits knocking around the leaves of the trees.
“Hanna Euli of Kjora,” Penelope said.
Her words sounded far away. They were accompanied by a rumbling, thunder before a rainstorm. Applause. The audience, applauding for me.
I walked forward.
“What is your wish?” she said.
For a moment I couldn’t move. Penelope smiled down at me. I looked away, over to Isolfr. I had a choice. I could wish for what I thought I’d wanted from the moment I realized that the adventuring wasn’t what I expected. I could wish to go home.
Or I could wish for that thing I’d wanted since I first learned to control the wind. I could wish for a dream to become real.
Isolfr smiled at me. A spirit of the wind. Of course I’d fallen in love with him.
This time, I turned to the crowd. Their faces blurred together. I knew I couldn’t make an elegant speech, like Trystan, nor could I make them laugh, like Isolfr. I could only say what I wanted.
“I wish to attend the Undim Citadels,” I said, “so I can study to become a witch.”
For a moment I was certain the audience would laugh at me. But they only applauded and cheered. A wind stirred around my skirts—the south wind, smelling of spices and sunlight, but also of home, of Mama’s iceberry pie and Papa’s hot cider.
You have my approval, the wind said, whistling in my ear. I smiled.
Penelope laid her hand on my head. I felt it like a weight.
“My debt is paid,” she said.
I thought of my future. I thought of my magic, boiling up inside of me, burning with potential. The Undim Citadels. Attending was not a matter of my ability—I’d helped defeat Lord Foxfollow—but of payment. That’s why it was a wish.
I knew I’d made the right decision. I didn’t worry about home. Lord Foxfollow was dead. I knew I’d see my parents again. That I’d see Henrik again, and Bryn. And I also knew that the next time I saw Kjora, it would not be as a fisherwoman, but as a witch.
Queen Penelope smiled. The stars twinkled. The south wind swirled around me.
“And your wish is granted,” she said.
THE END