by S. W. Clarke
I pointed at my cat. “He’s interrupted our very important conversation to let us know he wants milk.”
Eva did the honors, conjuring him a metal plate of crisp-looking milk. As I watched him lap at it, I screwed up my mouth. “Liara, are you sure?”
“That’s a stupid question. If I wasn’t sure about walking into certain danger before I offered to do it, then I would be pretty damn disingenuous, wouldn’t I?” Liara’s abrasiveness sometimes chafed like sandpaper, and sometimes it was the most endearing thing about her.
At least she said what she meant.
“So be it.”
“Now,” Eva said to me, “if you don’t relax for one night, I’m going to be very cross with you.”
My eyebrows went up. “I can’t even imagine what that would look like.”
She leaned close with unbroken eye contact. “You don’t want to know.”
So I relaxed. Or attempted to.
I said my goodbyes to Circe, who was off to her home in New Zealand, where she planned to start an organic fae farm. As to what that entailed, she shrugged. “I’ll be the first, if you’d believe it. Who knows what goodies will grow from fae magic?”
When Circe left our table, I discovered someone had conjured Loki his favorite food: grilled salmon. I pointed at it. “Now that I think about it, can mages conjure…other things? Non-edibles?”
“Sure,” Aidan said, “if you take the conjuration class. It’s only offered to fourth- and fifth-years.”
“As an elective,” Eva added. “But even then it’s only offered every other year, because most don’t pass Milonakis’s entry exam.”
“Milonakis and another exam?” I made a face. “Count me out.”
“Oh, you’ll regret that.” Aidan drew his finger over the table. “If you’re halfway decent at tangible manipulations, you can combine your conjuration skills with it to craft all sorts of helpful things from the veil.”
“Craft them?” Now I was just a little intrigued.
“Sort of like a 3D printer,” Aidan said. “But with magic.”
That did sound halfway appealing. I tapped my goblet with my fingers. “And what about Umbra’s enchantments?”
“What about them?” Liara asked.
“Can they be learned by us plebeians?”
Liara snorted. “If you can get Umbra to teach a class, I’ll bow down and call you queen.”
“Deal.”
Ever since I’d been a girl, I’d had a recurring dream of strange men trying to break into my home. For years I’d been having it, and as a result, I fantasized often about safety. About closing doors between me and people who wanted to hurt me. About wrapping myself in invisibility cloaks. About creating salt circles evil couldn’t penetrate.
Umbra’s enchantments seemed pretty appealing to twelve-year-old Clementine.
And I also knew when I started fantasizing about safety, I was feeling insecure. I knew exactly what was behind that feeling.
The cursed chain.
I was still antsy, even as all the other students around us were half-drunk and giddy with the year’s end. Nothing I’d done this year would matter if I didn’t get that chain.
So I did what I could to stave off the nerves, and I downed my whole goblet at once.
“Does that even burn on the way down when you’re a fire witch?”
When I lowered my goblet, blond-haired Fi stood in front of me with a soft smile.
I stared into the empty bottom. “Not a bit. I never even realized why that was until I found out I was a witch.”
“Dangerous stuff, then.” Her head tilted. “Without the burn to slow you down.”
“What are you going to do?” I said. “After this.”
“Well, I suppose I’m going to join the non-academy guardians.” She paused. “Funny thing, but I never did enjoy the missions. They always made me as anxious as I could be. All the same, I can’t see any other path for myself. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think I do.” I surveyed the room, the other guardians. “Who’ll lead us without Fi Waters, anyway?”
“Hm.” She eyed me. “I was thinking you or Liara. Depending on who’s willing to fight harder for it.”
My chin lowered. “Not one of the upcoming fifth-years?”
“They’d be fine.” She gestured at me with her drink. “You two would be brilliant.”
“How’s it even decided?”
“A vote.”
I snorted. “In that case, I’m definitely out.”
“You’d be surprised. I was voted in for my cool head. But you and Liara…”
“We’re hotheads?”
She smiled in confirmation. “You care. You don’t give up. And you’ve been responsible for the only two proper rescues we’ve managed in years. The others have noticed.”
I wondered if she knew what most often drove me: the persistent, gnawing sense of guilt, and sometimes—in my less proud moments—to prove to myself and others I wasn’t that coal-dark seed sitting in the center of me.
If I did good things, I could be good.
My eyes found Liara, who was in the middle of a long conversation with Loki, punctuated by his meows, and I wondered if that was what drove her, too.
The next night, Eva entered the third trial along with five other students who had earned the right to step into the Boundless Labyrinth. She went into the maze in the deep of night, while the rest of us slept, and when I woke up, there she stood in the middle of our dorm room.
She had dirt on her face, her hair was wild, and she was crying.
I threw off my covers, jostling Loki off my chest. “You didn’t pass?”
She didn’t respond. Her face went into her hand, and she wiped the tears away. “No.” Then looked up at me, and a jagged set of emotions appeared on her face. I recognized relief, joy, shock. “People don’t always cry when they’re unhappy, Clem.”
I stood, fully a wreck. “So you passed.”
Her smile grew. “I was the first one to escape.”
For a moment, I wasn’t Clementine at all. I became a girl who wasn’t afraid to share her emotions, to let them encourage me to throw my arms around her and haul her off her feet. She screamed, and the two of us danced around a bleary-eyed Loki.
When I set her down, I said, “Welcome to never getting a good night’s sleep again, constant grief, and the very, very occasional but muted feeling of success.”
She laughed. “Gods, you’re dark.”
“Better get used to it. It’s all I know.”
It was strange, but I felt happier for Eva passing than I had when I’d gotten through the trials. I suppose because it had been a different thing entirely for me—I’d retrieved the deceiver’s rod, gotten through by cheating—and Eva had done it all by the book.
She deserved it. And now I would have a fae I could trust with my life out there in the night with me.
She sat on her bed. “I’ve never seen you this…”
“Insane?” Loki offered.
“Happy,” Eva finished.
I turned to her, surprised by the words that came to my mouth. “I am happy for you, Eva.” And then, in true form, “Or maybe it’s just the manic happiness you feel right before you have to go on a life-or-death mission.”
Her eyebrows lowered. “We still have to get the chain. For a time, I’d forgotten.”
I wished I could have forgotten. Just for one day. For one minute.
But I couldn’t.
I dropped onto my own bed, my heart still beating hard. “If you’re coming tonight, you should sleep. I’ll need you rested.”
“If?” She kicked off her shoes. “When, Clem. I may have spent my whole life wanting to be a guardian, but do you know why?”
“Because both your parents are guardians and it’s the only example that’s been set for you, and subconsciously you think if you don’t manage it then you’ll never live up to familial expectations?”
She half-smiled. “Okay, too r
eal. And maybe. But consciously, I did it to protect those I love from the Shade. I wouldn’t be any sort of guardian if I wasn’t protecting you as you fulfill that prophecy.”
I felt that. I felt it right at the center of my chest.
Loki hopped onto my bed, curled back up. “I’m going to drown in sap before I even have a chance to die in the Siberian tundra.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
When Aidan, Loki, and I arrived at the stables that night, a figure stood inside, the aisleway light still on.
“Who…” Aidan began as we opened the half-door, but I already knew.
As we stepped inside, the quartermistress came out of the tack room, wiping her hands.
If anyone would be here at ten in the evening, it would be Quartermistress Farrow.
She eyed the two of us. “Late night.”
“Same for you.” I started toward Noir’s stall. “We need two horses. Aidan, which one do you usually ride?”
“Siren.” Farrow remained where she was in the aisle. “I’m glad to help you saddle her, as long as you tell me why you’re taking my horse out at night.”
I stopped at Noir’s half-door. His head came out as he snorted hot air over me.
Aidan met my eyes as he stood in the aisle. The look was obvious: Should we tell her?
“It’s…complicated,” I said to her. “And we don’t have much time.”
“I’m a quick study.” Farrow’s arms folded, and she went to stand casually in front of Siren’s door. “Give it to me in broad strokes.”
Aidan remained silent. He would leave the choice to me.
I turned away from Noir, toward Farrow. Of all the professors here, she was the one I was closest to. The one I trusted. The only one who invited me to her home just because.
But she and Umbra were also close friends, and had been for some decades. They probably told each other most everything.
I had to make a quick decision.
And the fact that floated to mind—the decider—was this: Farrow’s best friend as a girl had been a witch.
She was a good woman. She would understand…I hoped.
I took a quick breath. “There’s a prophecy.”
“A five-hundred-year-old prophecy,” Aidan added, now that the choice was made. “Delivered not long after the Shade’s banishment.”
Farrow’s eyebrows rose as she glanced between us. “This really is going to be complicated.”
I told her about the prophecy, reciting it, and how I’d come into possession of the liar’s key, the deceiver’s rod, and now, how Aidan and Liara and Eva and I were going to Siberia to retrieve the cursed chain. Because, I explained, I was going to finish reassembling the weapon, descend into hell, and kill the Shade.
Farrow took all this in with an unreadable, calm face. At the end, she said, “Do you have any proof?”
I nearly laughed. Of all things, I hadn’t expected her to say that. All the same, it was a fair question.
I brought out the rod from my cloak and held it under the light. “Will this do?”
Farrow came forward with slow steps, her eyes on the rod. She glanced up at me. “May I touch it?”
They always asked that. I nodded once.
When Farrow’s fingers connected with the rod, she held them there for a moment. Her eyes closed, and she nodded slowly. “I can feel the power in it. Greater than any object I’ve touched in my long life. Orichalcum?”
“Yes.” Aidan stepped forward. “How did you know?”
“The greatest weapons in history are forged from orichalcum.” A wry smile appeared. “I know a thing or two about the world beyond these stables.”
I gripped the rod, lowering it by my side. “Eva and Liara are waiting for us at the leyline. We have to go now if we’re going to get the chain.”
“And where is this chain?”
“We believe it’s buried under a lake,” Aidan said. “And Clem has to raise it.”
“Raise it how?” Farrow asked.
“A hex,” I said. “One called the likeness deception.”
“Hm.” She took a contemplative breath. “Siberia, you say. A cold place, even in the summer.” She started into the tack room, disappearing from sight.
Aidan and I exchanged a look.
“Does that mean you’re letting us take Siren?” I called.
“Saddle the mare, but leave the two horses in their stalls for a moment,” Farrow’s voice called back. “I’ll be out straightaway.”
I had no idea what that meant. Neither did Aidan, from the look on his face, but neither of us hesitated. He went straight to the tack room to get Siren’s gear. I went into Noir’s stall, running a hand over his face, speaking to him in a low voice until Farrow’s boots sounded in the aisle.
Her shadow appeared in front of the stall door, and then she was opening it, something clutched in her hand. “Lift his hooves one at a time for me.”
I stood by his shoulder, slid my hand down his leg until I reached the hoof. He lifted it automatically. “Is this important?”
“Maybe not, but if you happen to encounter ice, you’ll be thanking me for your life.” In the half-light, Farrow crouched, hammering something into his shoes. She applied four to the first hoof in under a minute, then we moved on to the next one.
“What are they?” I asked.
“Corks.” She didn’t look up, just kept working. “But tougher than regular ones. These are magical little things, designed to keep your horse from slipping no matter the terrain.”
My chest got tight as I looked down at her. She hadn’t even thought twice about helping us. “Farrow…”
She ignored me; she knew I was going to botch an awkward attempt at gratitude. “Clementine, remember what I told you about fire riding.”
“Which part?”
“Your hatred.” She hammered in the corks on the last hoof, then stood to look at me. “It’s not for any faint-hearted witch. It’s a dark art, but you may very well need it. If not tonight, then soon. And you know what you need to do.”
I had to inhabit my hatred. I had to let the Spitfire consume me.
“Yes.”
“Good.” She set a hand to my shoulder as she passed toward the stall door. “I hope you’ll never need it. But if you do, I have no doubt you’ll surpass even Rathmore.”
Then she was in the aisle, calling out for Aidan to get Siren’s hooves up for the corks.
In the half-light, I wiped a hand over my eyes. I wouldn’t forget what Farrow had done for us tonight.
When Farrow was finished, we mounted and headed toward the leyline to meet up with the fae.
Before we passed through the veil, I halted Noir, swung him around toward the group.
Liara and Eva stood next to one another, their wings silver-tipped in the moonlight. Their hair had been pulled tight, wrapped into traditional fae knots at the backs of their heads. They both wore fitted black from chest to toes, like slips in the night. Only Eva’s bright hair would give her away.
Beside them, Siren stood tall and straight, Aidan on her back. His cloak lay over her hind end, his glasses reflecting the moonlight. If I could have seen his birthmark, I imagined it would have been a bright red.
“None of you have to be present for this,” I said. “You don’t have to risk your lives.”
A moment passed, and then—
“I don’t have to do anything,” Eva said, flying a foot into the air as though to punctuate her sentence. “I choose to.”
Aidan tightened his grip on Siren’s reins. “I’m not letting you go out there alone.”
And, finally, “Part the veil, Cole.” Liara sounded disdainful. “It’s three in the morning, and I’d like to get this chain and be back in bed by no later than four.”
So be it.
I dismounted, leaving Loki atop Noir’s back. When I crossed to Aidan, I indicated for him to lean down. My thumb went to his forehead, creating the connection between us.
Meanwhile, Liara did the
same to Eva. The two of us went around, ensuring a connection between our minds and Eva’s and Aidan’s.
Finally, Liara and I came to each other. As one, we pressed our thumbs to each other’s foreheads, and in the moment she connected with me, I saw her magic floating in the air, a light blue in the moonlight.
Good luck, guardian, I thought into her head.
She didn’t speak back. But she nodded at me before she turned away.
I crossed toward the leyline, reached up as high as I could, flattening my fingers until my entire hand made a knife, cutting it down toward the ground.
I didn’t dare part it. Not until I was mounted.
When I’d pulled myself onto his back, Eva was already at the veil. “I’ll go through first.”
Liara moved her aside. “I’m the fastest here. Whatever we find on the other side, I’ll deal with it first.”
“Can the fae quit bickering so we can just pass through?” Loki asked, climbing onto my shoulder.
Without waiting, Liara tugged the veil aside, her wings starting into motion. She slipped through silently, and Eva caught the veil, holding it open for me and Aidan.
I went through first, from darkness into a strange, silvery light, Noir’s hooves crunching over snow.
Snow. There was still snow here, even in June.
Before us, the land spread white to the lake, which reflected the full moon with perfect likeness.
“The lake’s still frozen,” I whispered.
“Unlucky,” Aidan said, riding up beside me.
I flashed him a look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we got unlucky. It’s a cold summer here.”
Noir stamped. “So the coldness is a fluke,” I said. “We just happened to pick the wrong June solstice.”
If the lake was frozen, I couldn’t raise the chain. What then?
Liara’s voice came into my head: We’re not alone.
I stiffened atop Noir, eyes immediately drawn over the land surrounding us. The moon afforded a good view, but I only saw open tundra and trees—
Look up, Liara instructed.
My eyes rose, and I saw them standing on the bluff.
A dozen? No, dozens of creatures, looking back down at us, surrounding Hrungnir’s statue and speckling the bluff at either side.