| |
––––––––
SEPHIA WAKES US AS soon as the sun peeps over the mountains. Having insisted Anders take the bed, Gerda and I crawl out of the pile of downy comforters Sephia produced from the wardrobe—an object I suspect possesses magical properties. Erik, who fell asleep in the armchair, stretches before jumping to his feet. As for Sephia—I’m not sure where she slept, or if she slept at all. Based on the opening and closing of the front door, I know she left the cottage at some point in the night. She claims it was to retrieve our clothes, but I suspect it was to meet with the cloaked stranger lurking in the woods.
Still, what do I know of the habits of an enchantress? Perhaps she no longer requires sleep, just as she seems to survive without food. She provides an ample breakfast of fried potatoes along with fruit harvested from her trees, yet does not sit down to eat.
“I do not have time right now. I need to pack some food for your trip,” she says, when Erik questions her.
He raises his eyebrows and digs into his potatoes without another word.
We change back into our old clothes as soon as we finish breakfast. I hate giving up the sunflower gown, although I know it’s impractical for travel.
Sephia sticks her head around the curtain as I finish lacing Gerda’s bodice.
“I have boots and stockings for you, Varna. And please, keep the gowns. I will give you each a rucksack to carry them, along with some other clothes. More practical than the gowns, of course.”
“Thank you, Sephia.” Gerda shoves back the curtain and hugs the enchantress. “You’ve always been my guardian angel.”
“Angel? No, far from that. Still, thank you.” Sephia kisses Gerda on the forehead.
Gerda smiles and heads into the main room to assist Anders with his boots and cloak.
“Thank you.” I bob an awkward curtsey. “You’ve been more than gracious. Truthfully”— I look up into the enchantress’s eyes—“I wish I could stay with you. Learn about your garden, study all the herbs, and discover what you know of healing. Might I do that, someday? Come back, when we are sure Anders and Erik are out of danger and Gerda is safe?”
Sephia’s expression grows unexpectedly solemn. “I believe you must walk another path, Varna Lund. If I am wrong, yes—please return. If you find yourself alone, and all those you care about safe, come back to me.”
I nod. I will be alone someday, and soon. Gerda will find a husband, as will my other sisters. Erik and Anders will return to their old lives, and my mother will find joy in the children Gerda and the twins will surely have. Sephia may think I possess some other destiny, but I doubt this. I will return to this cottage, and learn all I can, and—if Sephia refuses to take me as her apprentice—at least carry this knowledge back to my village, where I will take possession of Dame Margaret’s cottage and the position of healer.
If Sten Rask did not lie and gives me back what should be mine.
I frown and flop down on the bed to pull on my new stockings and boots.
When we leave the cottage, Sephia walks outside and points toward a wooded path that apparently intersects with a back road. “It will lead you to the city, although in a roundabout fashion. Still, I do not think it wise for you to use the highway.”
“No, we need to stay away from roads heavily traveled by the enemy.” Erik hoists his rucksack over his shoulder. “Are you sure you can walk?” he asks Anders, who stands beside Gerda, leaning heavily on his wolf-head cane.
“Yes. It’s still difficult, but my pain has lessened.” Anders glances at Sephia. “I suspect the medicine you gave me includes more than a touch of magic.”
“It could be.” Sephia taps him on the arm. “There is more, in bottles I have stowed in Erik’s rucksack. Make sure you add a bit to your tea or coffee from time to time.”
Anders’s smile lights up his face. “Thank you.”
Gerda whistles for Bae, who steps forward, shaking his head. “You need not walk, Anders. Allow Bae to carry you.” She grabs the reindeer’s leather halter and pulls his face close to hers. “Is that all right with you, old friend?”
“Yes, little miss. It is the wisest thing, all in all.”
Erik helps Anders up onto Bae’s broad back and we depart, Gerda waving farewell to Sephia and promising to visit soon.
Our travel is blessedly uneventful. We walk throughout the day, reaching the road Sephia mentioned—a packed-dirt track riddled with ruts—and following it west.
As the sun slides behind the mountains, Erik suggests we make camp for the night. Abandoning the road, we settle in a small clearing surrounded by a hedge of blackberry vines, and search our rucksacks for food. I realize Sephia has provided us with blankets and other supplies along with a change of clothes.
Erik holds up a box of matches. “Do you think she simply materializes these?”
“It’s possible.” Gerda drapes one of the blankets across the ground and helps Anders sit down, with his bad leg stretched out before him.
“Sephia is an enchantress of great power,” Bae says, as he rubs his flank against the rough bark of a pine tree. “Sorry, little miss, I have an itch.”
“I’m not offended, Bae.” Gerda walks over to him and scratches the side of his neck. “We don’t have food for you, or enough water. Can you find your own?”
“Of course.” He tosses his head until the metal on his halter jingles. “I lived many years in the wild.” He places his nose against Gerda’s cupped hands. “I shall return with the morning light.”
“Go on with you then.” Gerda gives him a final pat.
While Anders rests on the blanket, his head bobbing in exhaustion, Erik gathers fallen branches from the surrounding woods.
“I’m not sure he will stay awake long enough to eat.” He motions toward Anders. “Although, truthfully, he probably needs sleep more.”
Gerda settles next to Anders and allows him to rest his head on her shoulder. “We should give him some more of that medicine, though.”
I fill a cup with water and pour in a few drops of Sephia’s tincture before handing it to Gerda. Turning back to Erik, I help him pile the branches and brush in the center of a cluster of rocks. As he lights the pile with one of Sephia’s matches, I sit on a large stone close to the fire.
Erik settles near me, on another stone. “Hand me my pack, would you?”
I grab up the rucksack and toss it to him. “Do you think you can disappear in the city? I’m worried you might be arrested as deserters.”
Erik pulls a wrapped object from his pack. “Bread,” he says, unwinding the fabric. “Want some?”
“Sure.” I take the chunk of bread, which is soft and smells of rosemary. “Seriously, Erik, do you believe you and Anders will be safe?”
“I’m not sure, but we have a better chance in the city than anywhere else. I do have friends there.” Erik chews on the bread for a moment. “What about you and Gerda? Still planning to leave her with the Stryker family?”
“If I can.” I hand over a flask of water. “There is Kai Thorsen too. He will help.”
Erik’s eyebrows rise to meet the russet hair spilling over his forehead. “What can he do? I suspect he’s no fighter.”
“No, but he’s smart. Very smart,” I add, to counter Erik’s dubious expression.
I offer some bread to the others. When I cross back to Erik, I notice he’s whittling.
I sit and watch his flying fingers. He has a gift, no question. A shape blooms under his hands. It is a rose.
“Is this a gift for Sephia?”
Erik glances at me. “Yes, a brooch. I may never get a chance to give it to her, but I wanted to create something to commemorate our meeting.”
The knife carves layers from the wood, revealing the beauty hidden within.
“She is a stunning woman.”
“True, although not exactly a woman an ordinary man could hope to love.” Erik looks over at me. “I may admire beauty, but I’m also pragmatic.”
“So what is it you want?” I know I am posing a question he may not be able to answer. Still, lulled by the warmth of fire, I must ask.
Erik’s fingers maneuver the knife, cutting and shaping wood. “It’s hard to say, although Anders is right—I am obsessed with beauty. It’s not as simple as a pretty face, though. I always feel there must be something more, something beyond the surface. I’ve seen many lovely women over the years, but somehow, none have been exactly what I want. I mean, what I am searching for. Damn.” He glances up from his hands. “I sound like such an idiot, seeking some ultimate beauty.”
“No, I understand.” Erik’s words cut me like the knife he handles so deftly, but I refuse to betray my pain. “You have a dream, and will not be satisfied until you achieve it.”
“Yes, that’s true.” He shoots me a grateful smile. “I keep thinking I will find it, but I never do. Gerda comes close.”
“Beautiful inside as well as outside?” I stare up into the tree canopy. A single star winks through the collage of leaves, bright as a diamond.
“Yes.” Erik slips the knife back in its sheathe and tucks the rose brooch into the pocket of his jacket. “No, even that is not quite it. I mean, Gerda is lovely and sweet and all, yet somehow it is not enough. It should be, but it isn’t.” He slumps and stares into the fire. “Go ahead— call me a foolish dreamer.”
“I will not. I believe in dreams, and hope one day yours will come true.” I look away, unwilling to witness his longing expression.
Never for you, Varna. All these young men, with all their dreams, but never of you.
The fire sputters. As Erik leans forward to feed more kindling into the blaze, I glance over my shoulder, and notice Anders slumped over, his head resting on the ground. Gerda is not beside him. Perhaps she has gone to fetch water. It would be like her to head off without saying anything, especially if she thought she might interrupt my conversation with Erik.
I rise to my feet. “I need to check on Gerda.”
Erik, lost in his own thoughts, just grunts in response.
I walk deeper into the woods, looking for any sign of my sister. It’s possible she simply slipped away to relieve herself, but I must be certain. As I search, the orchestra of crickets, tree frogs, and owls continues its eternal tuning, never to break into song.
I step into another clearing. Sten Rask stands before me, holding Gerda against his body like a shield.
I run at him. “Let her go!”
A blast of wind blows me back. I fall to the ground, my face pressed into a pile of decaying leaves.
“My dear Varna.” Rask’s voice pours over me like honey—sticky, clogging all my thoughts. “Shall we start over? Rise, my girl, and let us discuss this matter in an amiable fashion.”
I struggle to my feet, spitting out bits of dead leaves. “Release Gerda first.”
Rask tsks. “I am afraid that is not part of the bargain. We can talk about a reasonable trade.”
“What sort of trade?” I examine Gerda’s face. It’s clear Rask has muzzled her. Her mouth opens and closes, yet no sounds emerge.
“I will exchange information for your sister’s freedom.” Rask steps closer, hauling Gerda like a sack of grain. “Frankly, I’d be delighted to release her, if only she would tell me—or you—where Thyra Winther hid the mirror.”
“Gerda does not know.” I move closer, my eyes locked on my sister’s face. “You cannot make her tell you what she does not know.”
“Ah, you see, I don’t believe that.” Rask shrugs and tosses Gerda aside. She slides across the leaf-strewn ground, coming to rest at the base of a pine tree. From her stillness and pleading eyes, it’s obvious Rask’s magic still holds sway.
He advances on me. I cross my arms over my breasts and stand my ground.
“Now, shall we discuss a deal?” Rask gestures in Gerda’s direction. “I will free her from my spell, if you promise to obtain the information I need.”
“I’m not sure I can promise that.”
“You underestimate your abilities, my dear.” Sten Rask stands directly before me, the tips of his boots touching mine. “I believe if you were to speak with your sister and convey the gravity of the situation, she would tell you anything.”
I press my boots into the dirt. “She does not know.”
“Varna.” Rask strokes my jawline with one finger. “I do admire your courage and tenacity, as well as your intelligence. It’s a shame your exterior does not reflect your true nature. Of course, if you wish, I can change that.”
I stare into his dark eyes. “What do you mean?”
A slow smile curves Rask’s sensual lips. “I can grant what I know you desire. Outward beauty to match the passion of your soul. Power to enflame the coldest heart.”
Remembering Erik’s earlier words, my own heart contracts. “I want you to let my sister go.”
“What a pity you have been cursed with that face and figure. You deserve so much more.” Rask leans into me. “You are so much more. Trust me, my dear, I see the real Varna Lund. And if you allow me, I can reveal her to a world blinded by superficial beauty.”
His breath is warm upon my cheek. I turn aside.
This is not important, Varna. Gerda lying on the ground is important. Freedom is important.
Strong fingers grip my chin and twist until I am forced to look at into Rask’s handsome face. We are nose to nose as his fingers slide down to caress the soft skin of my throat.
“Varna.” His voice rolls over me like the purr of a great cat. “You crave what only I can provide, while you in turn can give me what I desire. A fair trade, I believe.”
I close my eyes. “Even if Gerda knew where the mirror is hidden, even if she would tell me, I would not offer you such information.” I open my eyes on Rask’s burning gaze. “At any rate, it’s all nonsense, because she does not know.”
“Someone must.” Rask’s voice cracks like pottery smashed against a wall. Strong fingers slide to my shoulder blades and tighten. “I will find it, whatever it takes. I will have it, and everything else I seek. Everything I need.”
I claw at his hands, but he simply shifts his hold and clutches me to his chest with one arm.
“Give over, my dear. Stop fighting your own desires.” Rask tips my chin back with his other hand and presses his lips against mine.
I feel as if I am drowning, as if the river did take me. Stunned, I sink to the murky bottom and am lost. I am the river and its current roars through my body, vibrating every inch until I feel I must explode.
“Release her!” The words ring through the clearing, rattling the leaves on the trees.
Freed, I slump to the ground, burying my face in my hands.
“Varna!” Gerda crawls toward me, released from enchantment as well. Thank God, and whoever spoke those words Rask had to obey.
Gerda reaches me and falls into my arms. “It’s Sephia,” She shakes my arm. “Look, Varna. See her arrayed in all her power.”
I raise my head and stare across the clearing, where a blaze of light illuminates the shadows. Within the glow, I can barely discern the shape of a tall, slender woman.
Rask shakes off the lethargy cloaking his limbs and spins about to face her. “Do you truly think your power can rival mine? You may be able to take me by surprise once, but I know your limits, Lady of the Roses.”
“As we know yours.” The cloaked figure I spied at Sephia’s cottage materializes from the woods, a wolf padding by her side. I fixate on her cloak, which is the pure green of new leaves and decorated with embroidered vines and flowers.
The stranger shoves back her hood, revealing a wild mane of white-blond curls. Her eyes are pale as crystal in her strangely beautiful face.
It is the face of some fey northern creature, born in caverns of ice.
The face of a Snow Queen.
“You may be a sorcerer, but you are still flesh and blood.” The young woman drops her hand, resting it on the powerful shoulders of the wolf. “One word and my companion will rip you to pieces. Sephia can hold you motionless long enough to make you suffer the agony of such a fate. Choose, Sten Rask. Depart now or be torn limb from limb.”
Rask’s voice fills the clearing. “You’ve caught me unaware, unprepared, for the last time. I will go, but keep watch. I shall obtain what I desire. The mirror and more.” Freed from the last shreds of Sephia’s enchantment, he casts one last glance in my direction before he strides off, disappearing into the shadows of the forest.
As the light surrounding Sephia fades, she crumples. The blond woman rushes to her side and holds her upright until the enchantress regains her bearing.
Gerda stares at the white-haired young woman, her eyes wide with amazement. “Why are you ... ? What are you doing here?”
A smile curls the thin lips of the other girl. “Watching over you, of course.”
The wolf trots forward. I shrink back as Gerda throws open her arms. “Luki!” She snuggles against the wolf’s broad chest.
I look up and over the creature’s shaggy back. “Thyra Winther, I assume.”
Thyra inclines her head. “The very same. Now come, Varna Lund, and let us rejoin your companions.”
