Max breathed so quietly over there.
Isadora lay on her side and stared at their darkness-drenched bedroom. Somewhere in Wildrose, a clock declared the hour with low, droning chimes.
Eleven o’clock.
A shore of glimmering coals illuminated the inside of the hearth with a glowing crimson line that flared and retreated. Snow slushed against the window panes, occasionally sharp and pelting.
She snuggled deeper under her blanket and tried not to glance over her shoulder where Max lay in quiet repose, face relaxed in sleep, skin darkened from stubble. If she let herself, she’d stare all night, unable to tear her gaze from the attractive lines of his face, his strong jaw. When he wasn’t scowling at the world, he looked like a little boy.
Remnants of their conversation drifted through her mind in a quiet ebb and flow.
We are husband and wife, but that doesn’t make us intimate. I’m content to let you drive that side of our relationship as you see fit.
Heat rose to Isadora’s cheeks as she recalled the low burr of his voice, the way his eyes darkened as he said it.
Egads, but he could melt her like butter.
Mam and Daid rarely spoke of physical affection, though they touched often. Gentle things. A hand on the back. A fleeting kiss. Sanna couldn’t handle more than seeing a quick kiss before she turned away in disgust. Lucey had given Isadora most of her information about intimacy between a handfasted couple.
The passion of their first kiss, the way he defended her with such self righteous rage in the Southern Network, left no question whether Max felt something for her. Ardor, certainly. She held no fear in that regard, only that she didn’t want to give that part of herself away until she knew, with certainty, that Max loved her.
Above all, his disinterested relationship with the other women worried her. Could he close her off from his heart so easily? Turn what they had into a business transaction? The clod of a man would surely try.
She wanted to laugh, if only to banish the jealous tones that crept inside her at the thought of Bella and . . . Clarice? No. Caterina. The thought of Max being with or kissing other women wouldn’t surprise anyone. He was generous beneath all that prickling austerity, and kind. Overly capable in almost everything he did, and pristinely put together, like today. His dark jacket, white shirt, had echoed the strands of his perfectly-combed hair and swampy eyes.
Isadora curled deeper into the blankets, used a spell to stack more wood on the fire and closed her eyes. Her thoughts ran to the list she’d sent him a week ago.
1. Court me as if we weren’t handfasted so we can get to know each other. We should ask lots of questions.
2. Prove whether our lives can merge.
3. Meet Mam and Sanna together.
4. I want you to tell me you love me. In words. Out loud. And mean it.
Well, he certainly struck out to satisfy number one. Though could they ever stop learning about the other? Witches changed daily. He remained a vague figure without edges in her mind, but today had conquered several of the hardest conversations.
Sleepily, she wondered what might come next in their story. For how did one prove whether lives could merge?
Did love grow to fill the cracks that didn’t fit?
She fell asleep unable to answer her own questions.
* * *
The forest, still as a held breath, sent instant reassurance through Isadora several days later.
She stood below the giant trees, closed her eyes, and listened. Snow trickled from high branches, falling in gossamer drapes. A mist brushed past, grazing the tip of her nose. She filled her lungs with a deep inhale and the swirling scents of the forest.
Oak.
Pine.
Cold.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered and opened her eyes. The trees didn’t speak back, but she thought she heard a sigh.
Snow crunched beneath her feet as she stepped over a fallen log, an exposed root, and onto a worn footpath. Petite boot marks filled it, coming and going. They wound around a few trees, then straightened into a rigid trail to a familiar cottage in the woods.
She paused to appreciate Lucey’s home, bathed in a circle of light that barely peeked through the upper canopy. Rocks ringed a space around it. Inside the circle of stones, grass hid beneath pockets of wet snow. The wooden, stacked boards, sparkling windows, and a column of fluffy gray smoke painted an idyllic picture.
The door creaked open, admitting a wry smile set in a familiar face.
“Well?” Lucey called. “Are you going to stand out there all day?”
Isadora rushed down the path and threw herself into Lucey’s waiting arms. They embraced, held tight for several long moments, before Lucey let her pull away. Eyes bright, she gestured inside.
“Come in, come in. Sonja and I have been waiting for you.”
* * *
Half an hour later, a freshened cup of tea sat in front of Isadora, petaled by biscuits, a silver spoon, and a squat pot of fresh cream. Crumbs littered the table from the cookie she’d already eaten, and the cup of tea she’d already drank.
Lucey and her wife, Sonja, sat across from her, on the other side of a round, uneven table that trembled when touched. The low moan of an animal out the back door startled Isadora, causing Lucey to laugh.
“Believe it or not, we have a cow.”
“A cow?”
“Sonja loves animals. And I love being self-sufficient. It’s a lovely match, though keeping dragons away from our bovine lady has been interesting.”
Isadora laughed. “I can’t imagine.”
Sitting next to Lucey, their hands clasped together on the table, was Sonja. A witch with a slightly tilted nose, dark eyes, and a kind smile. Her black hair, intricately braided against her scalp and hanging halfway down her back, was at odds with Lucey’s mousy blonde bun and pale skin. The contrast created a lovely dichotomy. Sonja smiled at Isadora with a depth of warmth that normally came from years of friendship.
“Well, now I can officially say that the many good things I’ve heard about you have not been exaggerated,” Sonja said brightly. “Particularly for the wife of our very . . . ah . . . charming Ambassador?”
A twinkle filled Sonja’s umber gaze.
Isadora laughed. “Already, Max’s fame precedes me.”
“Get used to that,” Lucey quipped with another smile. She gazed adoringly at Sonja, squeezed her hand, and turned back to Isadora. “You’ve already given us an update on Wildrose and Max—sounds like things are progressing steadily enough. I think you are wise to give him a deadline and a goal. Max does well under pressure.”
“Let’s hope that carries over outside of politics and Advocacy work.”
“And Wildrose? What do you think of his lovely manor?”
“It’s . . . big.”
Lucey’s gaze tapered in thought. “Has he told you yet?”
“Told me what?”
“About the basement.”
Isadora blinked several times. In her many tours of the house, mostly by herself, she’d never stumbled across a basement.
“Basement?”
Lucey chuckled. She set a small silver spoon in her teacup and stirred, looking not at all surprised by the question.
“The basement of Wildrose housed Advocacy members for years. In fact, headquarters is hidden at Wildrose.”
Isadora’s jaw dropped. “No!”
Lucey peered at her over the top of her cup as she sipped. The affirmation in her eyes shocked Isadora further.
“Really?”
Lucey nodded.
How hadn’t he mentioned such a detail? Isadora struggled to piece it all together.
“So . . . Wildrose was headquarters?”
“Well, yes. But also no. None of the Advocacy members went into the higher floors, save a few. Faye, obviously, because she ran Wildrose and the Advocacy. Myself, because Max saved me in Chatham and I lived there for a while. Charlie built the headquarters, after his father died. It was an old cellar that he transformed.”
“Faye never mentioned it was at Wildrose! She said that Charlie built it and she helped run it, but . . .”
Pieces of the puzzle assembled together in her mind. Of course Wildrose housed the Advocacy. She’d always assumed that headquarters lay underground somewhere, but hadn’t given much thought to where. There were no windows and no doors, save one, that led to a hallway she’d never walked.
Isadora leaned back in her chair, weakened by the revelation. She attempted to speak, but words failed her.
“I’m sure he has plans to tell you,” Sonja offered hopefully. The question in her words lingered. Isadora brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. Nausea swelled up in her throat, but she swallowed it back.
How many secrets did Max have?
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Sanna!” Lucey said. “Your message mentioned your sister? Let’s discuss her.”
Relief ensued, despite the transition from one difficult topic to another. “Yes, Sanna. Let’s talk about my sister who continues to insist she live in the forest with a dragon.”
Lucey grimaced. “Oh, no.”
“I need your help.” Isadora bit her bottom lip. “I don’t . . . Sanna won’t listen to me or Mam. She insists on . . . being who she used to be. She can’t! She can’t live alone in Letum Wood. That’s madness. I need you to talk to her. Convince her that this isn’t a good idea.”
Sonja’s face softened into a look of compassion. She looked to Lucey, who blinked several times. After a prolonged moment of thought, Lucey set aside her tea cup, settled her free hand on her lap.
“Sanna has a lot of grieving to do, Isadora.”
“I know, but—”
“Do you?”
Lucey leaned forward, staring hard. Isadora’s immediate rebuttal slowed. She forced herself to think about what Lucey asked.
Hesitation stole over her.
“Well . . .”
“Do you really know how much she needs to grieve? Do you comprehend that she’s not only lost the future she wanted, but parts of herself? She can’t see anymore. Can’t run through the trees and swing on vines the same way. Could we possibly comprehend?”
Isadora opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“I . . . I suppose . . . no.”
“None of us can understand the true weight of what Sanna bears right now. It’s been a little over two weeks since her vision receded fully?”
Isadora nodded, already contrite.
“Two weeks.” Lucey leaned back. “That’s hardly time to comprehend such a vast loss, not to mention move on with a solid plan that you approve of, which is not her obligation. Sanna needs time, Isadora. Patience. Compassion. She doesn’t need you—or your Mam,” she added gently, “telling her what to do and how to live her life. Believe it or not, Sanna is an adult. A grieving adult.”
Duly chastened, Isadora shrank in the chair. For several heartbeats she could only stare at the tabletop. Tears rose in her eyes, blurring Lucey and Sonja. When Isa lifted her attention again, Sonja’s mournful gaze struck a deep chord in her chest.
“I hate this for her,” Isadora whispered.
Lucey leaned forward, clasped Isadora’s hand in hers. “I know you do. We hate it, too! But you can’t take it away.”
“I wish I could.”
“And deprive her of the chance to learn? To overcome? To adapt and find her new path, her better self?”
Isadora’s lip trembled. “No, I guess not.”
A distant expression came to Lucey’s eyes. “I haven’t dealt with something as momentous as losing my sight, like Sanna, but I have been forced to choose between who I wanted to be, and what was given to me. It’s not an easy path. Knowing Sanna, I can’t imagine she would grieve away from Luteis or the woods. Allow her this time and space.”
“But it’s not safe!”
“I’m sure she’s far more aware of that than you. She has a forest dragon that loves her, Isadora. From my understanding, he doesn’t leave her side. It could be far worse. Luteis will help.”
“But there’s only so much he can do. What if she hurts herself before she figures out that she needs help?”
Lucey released a heavy breath. “The Defender paths make it clear that she could have been hurt many times.”
“You’ve checked?”
“Of course.” Lucey smiled demurely. “As I’m sure you have as well?”
With a sheepish chuckle, Isadora nodded. Lucey and Isadora were magical equals in the Watcher and Defender power, but they didn’t speak of it all that often.
Lucey continued in a pragmatic tone. “Of course, we want to keep her from harm, but it’s ultimately up to her, isn’t it?”
“I want to do more for her than just wait!”
“Me too, but it’s not our place. We can’t experience this loss for her. She has to carry it herself.”
Isadora stumbled over that, unwilling to accept. “Then . . . what can I do to help her?”
Lucey squeezed her hand again. “You let her fall and pick herself back up. You cheer her on as she does. You support the efforts she makes, and be there when she truly can’t do something. She will find her way again. Sanna is nothing if not determined. Eventually, she’ll come to you for help. When she is ready. Not when you’re ready for her.”
Tears dribbled onto Isadora’s cheek. “I love Sanna so much. She’s my sisterwitch, my twin. Watching her go through so much pain, it’s . . . I’m sad for her.”
“We all are. But we can’t let grief turn to pity. She needs confidence and time.”
With a sniffle, Isadora wiped the healing tears away, straightened back up. A leaden weight had lifted off her chest she didn’t know was there. Egads, but life had thrown dreary challenges their way.
“You’re right, Lucey. I . . . thank you. You’ve reminded me of who I should be for Sanna. But I do want to ask about the blind witch you know? The one who was also a sighted witch, then lost it?”
Lucey brightened. “Yes! He’s the sweetest man. His name is Gilbert. He lost his sight when he was twelve, I think.”
“Oh, Gilbert,” Sonja murmured with a smile. “A darling man. Very kind.”
“How old is he?”
“Forty, I think.”
“Would he really be able to teach Sanna how to adapt?”
“As strange as it sounds, yes. Reading special books, using a cane to see ahead of her. Even skills like chopping vegetables, cooking for herself, the sort of things that she might figure out on her own, but would be much easier with guidance.”
“And magic?”
“So much magic.” Sonja nodded quickly. “Oh, he’s a whiz with spells. You wouldn’t believe he’s blind if you didn’t see it, the way he runs his house, walks around Maytown.”
Hope swelled up in Isadora on Sanna’s behalf. “Would Gilbert be . . . I mean . . . is he . . . understanding?”
Lucey smiled, knowing exactly what Isadora meant. “He would understand Sanna’s grieving process and the intense emotions it entails. She could meet with him here, if that would make her feel safer. He has a spot that he transports to in the house when he needs me.”
Isadora recoiled. “He can transport?”
“Yes! There are ways for blind witches to transport, believe it or not. Sanna could be a real powerhouse.”
“She will be,” Isadora said.
Lucey patted Isadora’s hand. “I commend you for coming to us first, and not making the decision for your sister, as much as I would imagine you’re tempted. Sanna needs to flounder before she understands, and she will.”
A clatter of noise outside drew their attention. Isadora turned to find Jesse standing in the doorway, waving. Lucey smiled widely and motioned him inside.
“Jesse! My favorite second-oldest brother.”
Isadora scraped the residual tears off her face, sniffled, and straightened. Jesse eyed her with a questioning gaze. “Isa, good to see you. Everything all right?”
She smiled. “You too, Jesse. Yes, fine. Just talking about Sanna.”
He sobered as he crossed the room, embraced his sister, then Sonja. Lucey pointed him into the open chair between Isadora and Sonja. He lowered, taking in the table. Sonja spelled a plate in front of him. A cup flew over from the cupboard, settled with a light clink. Biscuits hopped across the top, settling in a flower-like design on his plate.
“Thanks.” He leaned back, tea cup in hand. “I’m ravenous. Just returned from one of the forester villages to talk about trade.”
Lucey perked up. “A new one?”
He nodded, gulping the tea. “Just wanted to introduce myself there. Found some supplies for Daid, maybe some new jobs I could pick up to earn currency. The family won’t make it through the winter like this. Not with Simon and Lenny eating half the house at each meal.”
A shadow crossed Lucey’s face. “Will Daid accept the supplies?”
“No, but Roxi will.”
Mention of Mam’s name drew Isadora’s attention out of her spiraling thoughts. “Mam?”
He shrugged. “Daid is stubborn and refuses to trade with the forester villages for supplies. Says the family needs to survive on their own, with what he can trap. But your Mam isn’t so obsessed with proving herself, not with so many mouths to feed, so I’m trading for supplies and giving them to her.”
Lucey softened slightly. “Well, at least Roxi will see sense.”
“Roxi might soften Daid for you, too,” Jesse said.
Isadora’s brow scrunched. “Is something wrong between you and Elliot, Lucey?”
A wry expression crossed Lucey’s face. Sonja reached over, squeezed Lucey’s shoulder.
“My father isn’t very keen about my life choices. Breaking away from the dragons, becoming an Apothecary, working for the Advocacy, and handfasting a woman. It’s . . . tenuous between us since Mam died. I think . . . somehow he blames me for her death.”
“That makes no sense.”
She shrugged. “I agree, but matters of the heart often don’t make sense.”
“I’m sorry, Lucey.”
Forced energy illuminated her expression. “All is well, Isa. I have you, my brother, my love, and the Advocacy. That's all I need. One day, Daid will come around.”
Jesse wolfed down his second biscuit, then asked, “How is Sanna?”
“Fine.” Isadora sighed ruefully. “Determined to live with Luteis in the forest.”
“Can’t say that I’m surprised.”
“Me either.”
“I’ll check in on her.” He picked up the teacup, which Sonja refilled with a spell. “I’ve learned to transport. I bet I could find her. If she’s not flying all over the Western Network with Luteis anymore, she can’t have gone far.”