CHAPTER 28

HANS CLINGS TO MY HAND AS WE RETURN TO THE CAMP, AND I CONFESS, I cling back. I can hardly believe he’s alive, much less that he’s returned to me. The witch was true to her word in one respect; he is fatter now, but better that than the half-starving boy who was taken away from me. The three children the witch stole from Belladoma are on their way back to their families already.

Dalen grins widely each time I look his way, but he keeps his distance to let us have our space. He carries poor Stump, who has an injured leg after he delayed the witch for me. She did not appreciate his efforts as much as I did.

When we reach the camp, Dalen heads toward another tent, one just for him.

“Dalen, hold on, I need to talk to you.” I turn to Hans. “Our tent is just over there. Go inside and get warm, and I’ll join you in a moment.” Hans nods and backs toward the tent but doesn’t take his eyes off me until he ducks inside.

Dalen looks at me in that quizzical way of his, and I almost lose my nerve. But I’m nothing if not nervy.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you. I found something when I searched Ensel’s chambers, more than the papers and crowns and the things I told you about.”

Dalen’s eyebrows raise, and then he smiles. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do?”

“Of course. I found the potions where you stashed them in the barn. I was looking for something to help me hold the map still while I held it in the wind, and there they were.”

“You don’t understand. I didn’t just find them—I used them. Several times.”

“Of course you did. What else would you do with a potion but use it? And a good thing, too. I’m assuming that the breathing-underwater one is how you got out of the tunnels alive with the cornucopia?”

I feel relieved. “I didn’t think you’d be happy with me using magic from such a tainted source as the wizard. I kept thinking about them, finding excuses to use them. I should toss them in the ocean, but I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“That is the nature of magic. It is a tricky thing and can worm its way into even the truest of hearts. That is, after all, how wizards were created.” His face brightens. “But you don’t have to worry about that. There’s no need to destroy them. I’ll take them, and keep them safe, until such time arises as you truly need them. Just be careful. You don’t know what the magic could do to you. Don’t depend on it too much. It might betray you. Especially if the potions were made from black magic.”

I’m rooted to the spot. I have been depending on the potions. In fact, every time I use a potion, it gets easier. I can’t deny I’m a little more eager and willing each time.

Dalen places a comforting hand on my arm. I shrink back. A crestfallen expression crosses his face. “I only worry, Greta. You are not a wizard nor a creature made of magic. Humans were not meant to handle such things. It could have terrible and unexpected consequences. Why do you think King Ensel thought stealing from a sea monster was a good idea? Or that feeding it girls from a rival city was a perfectly reasonable thing to do? He was already crazy, and the desire for more power, more magic, drove him completely mad.”

Every word he says is another knife in my gut.

The strange joy that leaps in my chest each time I touch one of the potions. The sores that have broken out on my arms, and get worse with every potion I use. The same ones Vincali had. The magic is wheedling its way under my skin.

Thank goodness Dalen will take them away. I’ll no longer be tempted. There’s just one problem.

I draw a circle on the ground with the toe of my boot, a little sheepish and now a little scared. “I do have a need for one more first. Then they’re all yours.”

“All right,” Dalen says. “One more. Then I’ll take them away.”

“But how will you keep them safe? What if I’m determined to steal them from you?” If black magic drove Ensel mad, why not me, too?

He laughs. “Don’t you remember? I know more than a few hiding places around here.”

I laugh with him, yet uneasiness fills me as I pull the blue potion from the box in my satchel and slip it into my pocket. Soon, this and the others will be hidden away, too well for me to find.

But this one will allow me to do what needs to be done to protect this city. My mother’s city. Maybe even my city.

I hand the box to Dalen, his kind face and silver eyes gazing back at me happily. “You’ll keep them safe as long as I need you to?”

He smiles. “As long as I live, I promise. I won’t let you use them again unless there is a very great need.”

I smile back, grateful he understood the question between my spoken words. The one I couldn’t quite bring myself to ask.

He’ll stay. He won’t let me give in to the weakness Ensel and the mercenaries fell victim to. He’ll be here to stop me.

Now that Hans and I are safely ensconced in a tent for the evening, we can finally talk. The scent of smoke and burning meat clings to us both, but it will fade over time.

I may never eat chicken again. And I doubt Hans will either.

We curl up on the pillows near the fire and he stares at the flames. Belatedly I wonder if the fire is a good idea at all considering what he witnessed today, but then he speaks and chases all those fears away.

“I knew you’d come back for me, Greta,” he says, a smile on his chapped lips. I was worried he might have forgotten how to smile. “And I’m glad you killed the witch. She taunted me, you know. That you’d never come back alive. That I was almost fat enough. She was planning to take the cornucopia from you if you found it, then eat me anyway and save you for dessert.” He lifts his wide gray eyes to meet mine, dark lashes framing them. “But I knew she was wrong. Even when she started taking more children. Other people don’t always return, but you do. You did when you got sick and the wizard sold you to Ensel, and I knew you would this time, too.” He stares at the fire again. “It’s better this way. Now she can’t hurt anyone else.”

He’s so serious, my brother. He’s grown up by leaps and bounds in the past year, but he’s always quiet and serious. Sometimes startlingly so.

His fingers, plumper than I remember them being, pry my fist open. I gasp at the stone in my hand; I’d nearly forgotten I still clutched it close. It felt like an extension of my arm. But now Hans pulls the amulet out of my palm, holding it and its swirling red and black insides up to the light.

“What do you think its purpose is?” Hans asks.

I shake my head. “All I know for certain is that I’m lucky it took the brunt of the magic. It seems to be a container of magic, but it can be used as a weapon, too.”

His brow creases as he studies it. “It looks like ink rolling in red water.”

I take it back. Best not to let him fixate on magical things. Or perhaps that’s the overprotective part of me. Though he isn’t wrong. That’s exactly what it looks like now, though before it was just red.

“Hans, I need to tell you something.”

He raises an eyebrow warily.

“It’s about Mama and Papa.” I pull the folded letter from my pocket. I’ve carried it with me ever since I found it, unable to let go of it, unable to let go of them. “I discovered what happened to them. Mama was King Ensel’s stepsister. She fled Belladoma with Papa years ago, before we were born. Ensel tricked them and captured them. And then he—he—” Suddenly my throat is too dry to form sounds, and I helplessly hand Hans the letter instead.

He fixes me with a solemn gaze. “He killed them, didn’t he?”

I can only nod.

He reads the letter, silently squeezing my hand. His eyes shine with tears, which stick to his lashes before they fall to the pillows beneath us. When he finishes reading, he doesn’t say a word. He simply folds it back up and presses it into my hand, then curls his arms around my middle. We hold each other tightly, the only family we have left, in front of the fire until we fall asleep.

Someday, I’ll have to let him go. But for now, I’m grateful he needs me too.