“But mistress, it isn’t even alive.”
“And that makes a difference?”
“You’re saying I have to be a million years old to control a rock?”
Maeve came towards her and dropped the stone into her hands. “No,” she said. “But you do have to control yourself. You must know what you want and understand the will that drives you to it.”
Maddie started to get to her feet. Maeve’s head snapped around, and she returned to her knees.
“But I do know what I want,” Maddie said, tightening her jaw in frustration. “I want to be a witch.”
“Do you?”
“Yes!”
Maeve sat down in her chair. “Why? Only a few short weeks ago, you did not even know the profession existed. Why do you care so much about it now?”
“Because I… I…” Maddie faltered. Maeve lifted an eyebrow, waiting. Maddie planted her fists on the floor and glared. “I could be good at this.”
“True,” Maeve answered, leaning back in her chair. “But that is not the first step. You are a fledgling, Madeline Foster, a bird in the nest, unable to fly on its own, and even the bird knows that it yearns to touch the sky. You have no such commitment, only curiosity and a vague sense that you must pursue whatever course seems most difficult. Perhaps you were an able student as a girl, but you are a poor example of a grown woman, and I cannot each someone who does not know the nature of their own ambition.”
The witch’s words cut deep, and Maddie winced.
“But I can learn this,” she insisted.
“No, you cannot,” Maeve said, her words falling on Maddie’s shoulders like an anvil. “Witchcraft is not about learning, apprentice. It is about doing.”
“But I can! Finn took me to see another witch in the city. I saw the work, and I want to do it!”
“Why?”
Maddie fumed. “Because!”
Maeve stood up, eying her with disdain as she turned sharply and walked to the door. “That is not good enough,” she said. “The study of magic is a journey. The path is difficult, and it will not tolerate the footsteps of idle interest. You must choose to follow it, and until you can understand the urge that moves you, your efforts will inevitably fail. The Foxglove has gifted you with power, but the gates of magic do not open for children.” She pulled the curtain aside. “You are dismissed.”
Heart to Heart
“It isn’t fair,” Maddie said, pacing across the old kitchen while Rain cooked, tinkering with a new recipe for corn chowder.
“What isn’t?” said Rain.
“This stupid training! There hasn’t been a single class I’ve ever taken in my life where I haven’t been able to manage at least a B.”
“A what?”
“It’s a grade. A good grade.” She threw herself onto a stool. “Why can’t I handle this?”
Rain stirred the pot. “I wish I could help you,” she said, “but I don’t know much about witchcraft.”
Maddie threw her arms up. “And Maeve is no help at all! All she tells me is that I’m not good enough.”
“Really?”
Maddie paused, catching herself. “Okay, so she said more than that, but it wasn’t very helpful.”
“What did she say?”
Maddie sat up straight and adopted an imperial pose. “‘The gates of magic do not open for children,’” she said, feigning her mistress’s voice. She furrowed her brow. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
“Is that all she said?” Rain asked.
“No, she said other stuff,” Maddie answered, kneading her tired eyes with her fists. “A bunch of crap about how I don’t know why I want what I want. I mean, does it even matter? Isn’t it enough that I agreed to become her apprentice?”
“Apparently not.”
“So, you agree with me?”
Rain took her eyes off the pot and glanced over her shoulder. “Actually, no.”
Maddie’s face fell. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Why not?”
Rain took the pot off the heat and sidled over to the table. “If you ask me, you sound a little entitled.”
Maddie paused, stunned.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” she replied. “You think I feel like I deserve this?”
“No,” Rain said. “I think you feel like you deserve everything.”
Maddie stood up and backed away. “Rain! That’s a horrible thing to say!”
“I’m just telling you the truth. You said it yourself: you don’t know why you want to be a witch. So, why should you get to be one?” She came around the table. “Let me put it to you like this,” she said. “When I spoke with Rose about becoming her matron, do you think she didn’t ask me why I wanted the job?”
“I suppose she would have.”
“And do you think I didn’t need to have a good answer?”
“Sure.”
“Well, this is the same, except instead of a person making the decision, it’s the job itself. You say that you can learn to do anything, but that’s not the same as wanting to do it. You’re going to have to demonstrate that you’re worthy of what you’re asking for. I may not know much about witchcraft, but I know enough to tell you that magic is about what’s in your heart, not your head. Do you see what I mean?”
Maddie grumbled. “I guess so, but I still don’t know what to do.”
Rain went back to the stove and ladled out a bowl of soup. “Go with your gut,” she said. “Speaking of which, you look like you just clawed your way out of a cemetery. Eat this, and tell me what you think.”
The first bite of the hearty cream stew brought on a wave of hunger. Maddie’s spoon became a blur as she ate it up.
“How did you know you wanted to be a matron?” she asked between mouthfuls.
Rain grabbed another bowl and spoon and set them on a tray with the pot. “I guess I always knew,” she said. “Growing up here, the palace was more than just a place to me. I owe everything I have to Rose and her home. When the time came, I wanted to be a part of taking care of it.”
Maddie set down her spoon. She’d never felt that way about anywhere. Her home was just a house. “That’s very sweet,” she said.
Rain reached across the table and pressed a finger against the middle of Maddie’s chest. “You see what I mean?” she said. “Heart.”
Maddie stared down at her bowl. It was empty. “I don’t have a heart anymore,” she said.
Rain wrapped her in a hug. “That’s not true of anyone.” She said as she gathered up the tray. “Actually, you know who you should talk to?”
“Who?”
“Kidhe.”
Maddie crossed the room to the window and peered out. The aviary was just barely visible through the branches.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because,” Rain said, joining her. “He’s the only person I know who’s always known exactly what he wants.”
Away From It All
“So,” Maddie said, “will you help me?”
Kidhe leaned up from the railing, lifted a sack of birdseed, and tipped it over into a trough. A donkey-sized finch began pecking away at the kernels. Maddie stood across from the two of them, trying to forget the fact that she’d been up all night.
“I don’t know. It’s tough,” he said.
“Well, apparently you’re the man for the job.”
His eyes twinkled. “Is that so?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Maddie answered. “And I still think your beard looks stupid.”
He tossed the empty sack aside. “Strange thing to say to someone you’re asking for help.”
“Hey, you were the one that started all this.”
“How do you figure that?!”
“You introduced me to the princess. If it weren’t for you, no one ever would have figured out that I’m some kind of ancient… faerie… whatever!”
Kidhe picked up a rag and cleaned off his hands. “Well, that definitely makes sense.”
“It does!”
“And far be it from me to argue with the most powerful being in the universe.”
Maddie clenched her fists. “I am not the most powerful being in the universe.”
“You might be.”
“I am not!”
He backed off, putting up his hands. “Okay, okay!”
Maddie took a deep breath, glaring at him as he stood in front of her. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“Help you get in touch with your heart? Yeah, I’ll help you, although right from the start, I can tell you you’re going about this the wrong way.” He flopped down at a little table covered in tools and strips of leather.
Maddie sat across from him. “Oh?”
He picked up a couple of the strips and started braiding them together. His fingers worked deftly while he spoke. “You’re too good a student. That’s your problem.”
Maddie scoffed.
“I’m serious!” he said. “You approach everything so analytically. I joined the wardens because I wanted to fly, not because I thought it would be a great career opportunity. If you want to understand your heart, you’re going to have to learn to let go.”
“And you can teach me to do that?”
He glanced up with a wily grin. “I have a few ideas.”
Maddie crossed her arms. “I swear to God, Kidhe—”
“Relax! Relax, it’s not a pick-up line.” He paused. “Okay, it would be a pretty good pick up line.”
“Kidhe! I need your help here!”
He sat back and tossed the braided leather onto the table. “Alright,” he said. “What makes you happy?”
Maddie thought it over. “I don’t know.”
“It’s a simple question.”
“I don’t know!” Maddie insisted. “Video games, jogging… What do you want me to say?”
“A-ha!” he said, jumping up and pointing a finger at her face. “See? You’re looking for the right answer!”
Maddie pushed his finger away. “Well, what the hell else am I supposed to do?!”
“Think for yourself,” he said, stepping towards her. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Feel for yourself. You’re too close. You’ve got to find a way to step back. Maeve said she wanted to know why you wanted to be a witch, but why does anybody want to do anything? You have to think about the things that bring you joy, and make your heart beat faster. One of them is bound to be the reason becoming a witch feels right.”
He pulled her towards the stairs. “Come with me.” They emerged onto the flight deck.
“Where are we going?” Maddie asked.
Kidhe put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle out into the forest. “Anywhere,” he answered. “I’ve got my own ride.”
A black shape emerged from the trees, and Maddie gaped as a 30-foot crow banked around the flight deck, swooping in to perch on the edge. The boards creaked under its weight as it hunkered down like a chicken and Kidhe took her over.
“Oh my God,” she said. “You’re that guy.”
Kidhe climbed up onto the crow’s back, gripping the feathers like he was climbing a ladder. “I’m who?”
“The guy!” Maddie said. “The guy in high school who already has a car and thinks it makes him look cool.”
Kidhe threw down a rope. “Does it?”
Maddie paused. “A little,” she said, fighting the words as they came out of her mouth. “Maybe.”
“His name is Earnest,” Kidhe said, brushing the bird’s feathers with his palm. “Want to go for a spin?”
Maddie craned her head back. “How? I don’t see any saddle.”
The bird cawed. The sound was like a stick of dynamite going off in her ears.
“Hey!” Kidhe shouted, calling to the bird. “Calm down!”
He slid down the rope, leaned in, and whispered, “Earnest doesn’t like the ‘s’ word. I can barely get him to wear the harness, so we’ll be flying au naturel.”
“Is that safe?”
Kidhe cackled. “Not in the least.”
Maddie followed Kidhe up the rope, grabbing onto the complex weave of hempen cords that made up the bird’s harness, which wrapped around the animal’s neck and shoulders like a vest. Kidhe reached down and caught Maddie by the shoulder. She yelped as he hauled her up the last few feet and set her down in front of him.
“There are loops by your legs,” he said. “Put your feet in.”
Maddie slipped her toes into the ropes and pressed down with her heels. She felt the ropes stretch under her boots.
Kidhe reached forward to tie a rope around her waist. “It’s going to feel choppy when we take off. Try to stay loose. If you want to grab onto something, hold this piece here…”
He pointed to a thick, round knot twisted into the harness where a saddle-horn would be. Maddie latched onto it as Kidhe took up the reins. The bird’s shoulders shifted as it got to its feet, flapping its wings for balance. Maddie’s hands tightened as a hot trickle of adrenaline threaded its way into her chest.
“Ready?” Kidhe asked.
“I think I need a minute,” Maddie answered, gripping for dear life.
Kidhe whipped the reins and whistled. “Here we go!”
“No, I said wai—whoa!”
Maddie screamed for a solid minute as the crow’s voice shattered the air in a flurry of beating wings. Wind rushed past her as she clung to the ropes and did her best to “stay loose,” but her muscles seized up so tight they might as well have been turned to stone.
The bird thundered into the air, its huge limbs pumping up and down as the creature climbed into the sky. Maddie clenched her teeth, pressing her eyes shut as the air thumped past her in waves, until the sound and motion gradually leveled out, leaving only the quiet whisper of the breeze.
“You can relax now,” Kidhe said.
Maddie opened one eye and then snapped it shut. “You expect me to relax after that?!”
Kidhe thumped her on the back.
“We’re in the air now,” he said. “It’s alright. Try to balance in the stirrups and let the ropes do the work.”
Maddie let her muscles ease as she maintained her grip on the harness. The ropes yawned and stretched, and she flinched, eyes still clamped shut.
Kidhe pulled her up into a sitting position. “Take it easy. You can’t fall, remember? You’re tied on. Have a look around.”
Maddie opened her eyes and drew in a breath. The forest rolled out beneath them like a patchwork quilt, teeming with color and life. In the distance, the outline of the skyscrapers stood in silhouette, towering over a horizon of trees.
It was easy to forget that the Veil was more than just a city in a tree. It was here in Chicago alongside everything else, separate and invisible, but present.
Kidhe pulled gently on the reins and Earnest banked around, swooping through the air like a kite on a wire. Maddie tightened her grip on the saddle knot.
“Lean into the turns,” Kidhe said, “and loosen up. The stirrups will hold you.”
He banked around again. Maddie did her best to lean a few inches.
Kidhe shoved her. Maddie felt the ropes go taut as her foot pressed down in the stirrup and she found herself staring down at the ground with nothing to hold her but a few inches of weathered rope. She screamed and thrashed, grabbing Kidhe by the arm as he held her shirt.
“I’m going to kill you!” she roared.
Earnest leveled out. Kidhe kept his hand gripped tight around a clump of her shirt as he steered the bird through the air in lazy swings, and gradually, heartbeat by heartbeat, Maddie felt her pulse slow down and the muscles in her neck and shoulders loosen, until the air rushing over her face and the subtle pull of gravity no longer felt like death. They carried on for half an hour before Kidhe pulled on the reins and Earnest settled down on a branch.
“Better?” Kidhe asked.
“A little,” Maddie admitted. “I’m still going to kill you. That was awful.” She could just barely see the rising cr
own of the city tree in the distance. She chewed on her cheek. “We’re really far,” she said. “Rose asked me to stay in the city.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Captain of the wardens, remember?” he said, pointing to his badge. “Don’t worry, we’ll head back soon. You’ve still got the ward Maeve gave you, right?”
Maddie pulled it up out of her collar. “All present and accounted for.”
“Good, then we should be fine,” Kidhe said. “And if anything does come up, I’ll protect you.” He thumped a proud fist against his chest.
“Uh huh,” Maddie said.
“Hey! I’m very qualified!”
“Sure, you’ve even got a beard.”
“Will you stop making fun of my beard?!” His hand moved protectively to the thin line of fuzz on his chin.
Maddie stuck her tongue out at him and leaned back, hanging onto the saddle knot as she surveyed the landscape that surrounded them. “Do you fly like this often?” she said.
Kidhe picked his feet up out of the stirrups and perched cross-legged on the bird’s back. “Pretty regularly, though I usually go deeper in the Veil. It’s kind of my escape. I like to get away for a few days every month or so.”
“You mean like camping?”
“More or less, but the deep Veil isn’t like a regular forest. It has layers and moods. The place where I go, it’s always warm, the trees are bigger, and the brush is thick with fruit and vegetables.”
Maddie closed her eyes and tried to picture it. “You make it sound like paradise.”
“I guess it is, for me.”
Maddie envied him. She never seemed to be able to get away from her problems for long, or maybe she just didn’t have the head for letting them go. It was like she preferred to be haunted, as though anything less would be somehow irresponsible. She’d spent too much of her life under pressure. Another honors course, another AP class, another after-school tutor… Now, it felt wrong not to push. She knew she could do better, and anything less than her best was a cop out. And for what? Another call from her mother? A few, brief words of congratulation?
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