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“COME,” SEPHIA SAYS, “my house is just a short walk.” She leads us to a path that twists through a forest of slender pines. Pausing at the head of the trail, her gaze focuses on Anders, who drags his bad leg and leans heavily on Erik.
“Forgive me. I forgot your injury.” Sephia moves swiftly to Anders’s other side and offers her arm. “Take hold. Your friend and I will help you.”
After a few turns we step into a clearing where a cottage sits, squat and gray as a mushroom. The rough stone building is crowned with a thatched roof, and a curl of smoke rises from the chimney. I’m glad to see evidence of a fire. Although the late spring day is not particularly cold, my soaked garments weigh on me, heavy as wet mortar.
Sephia releases her hold on Anders long enough to push open her bright green front door. “Come in and rest.”
The cottage feels familiar—one room, like the home I hope to inherit, and a mirror of its rustic charm. It’s warm inside, even though the stone fireplace is filled with pots of bright red geraniums instead of flames.
Magic crackles in the air like static before a storm. I cross to the fireplace and soak in the warmth emanating from the flowers.
Erik and Sephia guide Anders to a small settee with cushions covered in an intricate floral pattern. Gerda hurries to sit by him. She puts her arm around his shoulder, and he slumps against her, blindly reaching for her other hand and clutching it against his good leg. His face is pale as the moonflowers twining through the settee’s colorful embroidery.
“I can make you a draught of something to ease that pain,” Sephia says. “But let me find you some dry clothes first.”
I narrow my eyes and examine the tall, slender woman. I imagine she might have something for me, or even Gerda, but what would this solitary creature own that Erik or Anders could wear?
I glance away and realize I’m not the only one studying Sephia. Erik stares at her with blatant admiration.
Sephia crosses to a wooden wardrobe and motions for me to join her. “Here, take this.” She presses a soft bundle of material into my arms. “You and Gerda can change over there, behind the curtains of the little alcove. The young men can change in the main room, so Anders does not have to move too much.” She pulls out another pile of fabric and glances at Erik’s bemused face. “Fear not. I shall step outside.”
He flushes as red as the geraniums. “Thank you.” He takes the garments from her hands.
Gerda joins me as I push back the sea green curtain and step into the sleeping alcove. We undress and toss our wet garments on the floor. When I unfold the bundle, I discover two gowns—both woven of some wool as soft as silk. I reach for the one the color of sunflowers and hold it up against my body. It is the right length, which is odd, since Sephia is a few inches taller than me.
“There are no petticoats,” whispers Gerda, donning the other gown, which is blue as a hyacinth. Strangely, this gown fits Gerda perfectly, its beautiful cut enhancing her figure in a way I fear may further confuse Anders.
I slip the yellow gown over my head. It is true, there are no petticoats—only a pair of silken pantaloons for each of us. But these gowns do not require any other undergarments. They fall in perfect folds, graceful as flowers swaying in a light wind. I run my fingers across my body, marveling at the lightness of a fabric that provides perfect coverage. Modest as a nun’s habit, and yet ... My gown doesn’t grant me Gerda’s voluptuous figure, yet makes me feel more attractive than anything else I’ve ever worn.
Gerda loosens her hair, allowing it fall in golden waves about her shoulders. She looks radiant. She calls out to Erik and Anders. “Are you dressed?”
“Yes, come on out.”
There is a tinge of embarrassment coloring Erik’s voice. I understand why as soon as Gerda and I step into the main room.
Both Erik and Anders wear silken robes like those I’ve seen depicted in old paintings of royalty. Long sleeves fall open at the wrist like a bell, and high collars are decorated with more of Sephia’s floral embroidery. Erik’s robe is the soft green of a spring meadow, while Anders’s is the tawny brown of a young deer.
Men’s robes, cut in an old style, in sizes that fit both large-boned Erik and slight Anders? I cast a look at Sephia as she comes through the front door, carrying an armful of wood. Her lilac gown is perfectly dry.
Sephia’s smile lights the room. “You look splendid. I chose wisely.”
Unsure if she means us or the clothes, I decide to swallow my questions for now. “We left our wet clothing on the floor, but if you want me to hang it outside ... ”
Sephia crosses to her black stove and stuffs the kindling into the firebox. “No, you sit and rest.”
I choose a wooden rocker, while Gerda sits beside Anders on the settee. Erik slumps into a deep armchair. Although he faces me, his eyes are on our hostess.
Sephia strikes no match, but the kindling bursts into flame. She reaches for a copper kettle dangling from a hook sunk into one of the ceiling beams. “I imagine some tea would be welcome, but I must cut a few herbs from my garden—would you assist me, Varna?”
I spring to my feet and cross the room, noticing as I pass how Anders stares at Gerda. Her head’s down, but I spy a rosy blush rising in her cheeks. “Trouble, trouble,” I mutter, as I follow Sephia out the back door.
Sephia smiles. “It will be all right. Come into my garden, Varna.”
I gasp and clutch the doorframe. The enclosed garden is a brilliant tapestry woven of vegetables, fruit trees, and flowers. Roses from purest white to deepest crimson drape the stone walls, their green vines buzzing with honeybees. The scent of all these growing things is overpowering. I press the back of my hand against my forehead.
I stumble after Sephia as she gracefully navigates paths that wind like emerald streams through the garden. Miniature chamomile covers the paths, soft as feathers under my bare feet, the sharp scent rising with each step. Sephia pauses at one corner of the garden.
It’s a bed of lush and vibrant herbs. What I wouldn’t give for such a garden! It could supply me with everything needed to concoct healing potions and ointments. I recognize most of the plants, although not all, and make a mental note to query Sephia later.
We gather mint and beebalm and a few sprigs of lemon verbena, along with a cutting of the taller form of chamomile. I raise my fistful of herbs to my nose, breathing in the luscious scents. It seems to clear my head.
“You cannot grow all this without some sort of magic.” I cast one longing look at the garden before following Sephia back into her cottage.
“That is true.” Sephia drops her herbs on the wooden counter near her stove. “I am, as you know, an enchantress. But I prefer to use my powers only when necessary, unlike many others of my kind.”
“Are there many others?” I strip the flowers and leaves from the stems of the herbs, tossing the foliage into a small copper bowl.
“Not so many. Not anymore.” Sephia presses the leaves and flowers into a pewter tea ball shaped like a large acorn. She dunks the ball into the hot water in the kettle before turning to me. “You have heard Gerda speak of Mael Voss.”
“Yes. He stole young girls from villages like mine and transformed them into Snow Queens, hoping they could repair some shattered mirror.” I meet Sephia’s steady gaze. “But only Thyra Winther could reconstruct the mirror, with the help of Kai Thorsen. Gerda was present when the mirror was made whole.”
“Yes, Gerda was there.” Sephia’s eyes glitter like emeralds. “Didn’t she tell you about her part in the mirror’s restoration?”
“No.” My sister has fallen asleep, her golden head resting on Anders’s shoulder. A little smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. Anders is also asleep, as is Erik. They look so peaceful ...
I whip my head around. “Have you enchanted them?”
“Only for a moment.” Sephia lays one slender hand on my shoulder. “Varna, you should ask Gerda what transpired that day. Ask her about her tears. It is important you understand what happened—why there are those who believe Gerda holds a key to the mirror’s location.”
I step back. “What do you know?”
“I know someone seeks the mirror. I can feel it. Someone who wishes to use its power for evil.” Sephia sighs. “Such ancient power, neither good nor evil, is sadly always a danger to our world.”
I study Sephia’s lovely face for a moment. The honesty in her eyes spurs me to speak freely. “There is someone. He impersonated an old healer and took over my former mentor’s home and practice. I even studied with him for a time.” I shake my head. “I did not know who he was, I swear.”
“Of course not.” Sephia’s voice is as gentle as the brush of her hand against my cheek. “Do not blame yourself. You were tricked by a sorcerer who wields great power. Maintaining such a transformation is extremely difficult.”
“He revealed himself to me right before we escaped with Erik and Anders. It’s why I forced Gerda to go with them, and why I joined them when she would not leave without me.” To my embarrassment, I realize tears are sliding down my cheeks. “He threatened Gerda. He thinks she knows where the mirror is hidden, and is determined to use her to find it. I think”—I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand—“I am afraid he will kill her.”
“He will not.” Sephia hugs me to her breast. “Do not worry. I will not allow harm to come to Gerda, not if I have any power to prevent it. Now”—she pulls away while still holding onto my arms—“did he give you his name, this sorcerer?”
“Sten Rask.”
Sephia’s eyes betray an emotion that clenches my hands at my sides.
Fear. She is afraid. Oh, dear Lord, if this enchantress is afraid of Rask, what are we to do?
“Do you know him?” I fight to keep my voice calm.
“No. I’ve heard of him, but we have never met.” Sephia tosses her auburn hair as if shaking something from her mind. When she looks back at me, her face is perfectly composed. “I met his mentor once, the sorceress who took him in and taught him the ways of magic. She calls herself the Lady Dulcia. If Sten Rask is anywhere near as skilled as she, he is a serious threat.”
“She is powerful?”
“Very. And dangerous, although she appears as delicate and lovely as a flower. You would think her as innocent as Gerda, were you to meet her. Which I hope you never do.”
The whistle of the tea kettle pierces the silence following Sephia’s words.
Erik leaps to his feet. “What is that?”
“Just the kettle,” calls out Sephia in a bright voice. She busies herself pouring tea into four ceramic mugs.
Gerda sits up and rubs at her eyes. “Was I asleep?”
“We all were, I think.” Anders lifts his arm from Gerda’s shoulder.
Erik eyes me with suspicion. “Except for Varna.”
I grab two of the mugs and head back to the rocking chair, handing Erik his tea before I sit down. “I was gathering herbs.”
“Now, drink up.” Sephia crosses the room with the other two mugs and hands them to Anders and Gerda.
“You’re not having any?” Anders stares into the pale green liquid.
“No, but I was not dunked in the river.” Sephia sits on the raised stone hearth. “Go on, it is not some magical potion. It is tea. Varna watched me make it, if you are concerned.”
I take a sip. “Just tea.”
Erik sits up straighter in his chair. “One thing I don’t understand,” he says, after a long swallow. “How did you guess we were in trouble, Sephia? No one knew we were on the river. At least, no one who could tell you.”
“Ah, there you are wrong.” Sephia’s face glows, as if lit from within. “Someone did know, and he warned me.” She crosses her hands in her lap. “He waits outside, on the edge of the clearing. Go and take a look, Gerda.”
Gerda sets down her mug and jumps to her feet. “Bae?”
“Yes,” replies Sephia, as Gerda runs to look out the front window.
“The reindeer?” Anders furrows his brow. “How could he tell you anything? I mean, reindeer do not speak.”
“Is that so?” Sephia’s voice is laced with amusement.
Erik stands and hands me his mug before striding across the room. He flings open the front door. Gerda is instantly at his side.
Bae pokes his muzzle inside until he is eye-to-eye with both of them.
“Hello, Master Erik,” says the reindeer.
Erik stumbles, tripping on the hem of his robe and landing, flat on his backside, on the floor.
Gerda giggles. Erik shoots her a sharp look, then stares at the reindeer.
“It talks.”
Gerda fights back more laughter. “Yes.”
“It talks?” Anders slides to edge of the settee, his hazel eyes round as coins.
“Yes. Bae was enchanted by the mage Mael Voss. He can speak and”—I look to Gerda, who nods her head—“he can also fly.”
Erik makes some unintelligible comment.
Anders stares at Gerda with a question in his eyes. “Voss is dead. I thought his enchantments died with him.”
So he knows? And you thought she only shared the details with you, did you, Varna? Seems she told Anders all about her journey to find Kai. I finish off my tea in one swallow.
Bae dips his shaggy head. “I was able to decide, in the moment of the mage’s passing, whether to break his enchantment or remain as he made me. I choose to stay as I am, in case Miss Gerda ever needed my help.”
“And a good thing you did, my friend.” Sephia rises to her feet and crosses to the door to rub Bae’s velvety nose. “Now, go rest under the trees. I have provided water and hay for you.”
“Thank you, Mistress Sephia.” After a gentle bump of his muzzle against Gerda’s shoulder, Bae backs away from the door and lumbers toward the woods.
Erik rises to his feet. “This is astonishing.” He offers his arm to Sephia. “May I escort you back to your chair, my lady? I think I will pace for a bit to clear my head. I’m not used to such enchantments.” The smile he turns on her clearly indicates he includes her in the things he finds entrancing.
Sephia’s laughter cascades like a string of sleigh bells. “You have recovered quickly, Erik Stahl.”
Erik leads her to the armchair where she sits down and arranges her lilac gown until it falls in perfect folds to her feet. “I think you should stay here for the night. Rest, then set off for the city. It is probably best if you travel to a place where you can mingle with a large crowd of people, and I believe Erik and Anders may have friends there.”
“And Kai is there.” Gerda perches back on the settee. “He’ll help us if we ask, I’m sure.”
Sephia nods. “Kai Thorsen could prove a useful ally.”
Erik pauses in his pacing. “Some University scholar? How can he help?”
“Do not underestimate Kai, or his friends,” replies Sephia with a smile. “Finish your tea, Anders. I put something special in your cup.”
“So that’s why I feel less pain.” Anders stretches out his injured leg. “Can you do anything about this?”
“Sorry, no. At this point I can do more than Varna has done.” Sephia leans back into the cushions of the armchair. “Tell me about yourselves, Erik and Anders. I would like to know more.”
As the men take turns talking, I stand and walk to the alcove. “Excuse me, I believe I will hang our wet clothes.” I pull back the curtain and gather up our cast-off garment, then pause beside the settee to collect the men’s clothing. “No, Sephia, please sit and talk. I will only be a minute.”
I push my way through the front door, half-expecting Gerda to follow. She does not, and I realize why—Anders is talking about making shoes for the Opera dancers, and she’s hanging on his every word.
Oh, Gerda, you are skating too fast on a thin-iced pond.
I sigh and cross the clearing to reach a low branch I spied earlier, nodding to Bae who stands behind the front line of trees, his head down in a water bucket. I drape our damp clothing over the tree limb, cursing the fact I have lost my stockings and boots. Hopefully, Sephia can loan me something before we depart for the city.
A rustling in the underbrush makes me look up, as Bae lifts his head and stares into the woods.
A cloaked and hooded figure, holding the halter of a dark horse, is visible between the layered rows of trees. I press my lips together to keep from crying out.
Bae seems to have no fear of this stranger. He simply shakes his heavy head and resumes eating hay.
A creature appears at the stranger’s side and stares at me with golden eyes. It is the wolf.
I back away, concentrating on each step. When I reach the front door of the cottage, the stranger lifts one pale hand and presses a forefinger to her lips.
I shove the door open and stumble into the cottage as Erik finishes recounting some story that elicits laughter from the others.
“All done?” Sephia’s bright smile fades as she studies me. “Come and sit down. You need rest too.”
Her green eyes remain fixed on my face, even as Anders urges Gerda to tell some humorous anecdotes about our family.
I know who is out there. Sephia’s unspoken words ring in my head. It is all right, Varna. No harm will come to you, or Gerda, from that quarter.
Nodding to indicate my understanding, I sit in the wooden chair and rock back and forth, until I can speak without betraying Sephia, or the mysterious stranger.
