by Julie Abe
“Oh, Charlotte, wait!” I leaned over the counter. “Do you mind if I try magicking some of your paper art?”
“My animals?”
“Please? I’ll trade you some redbud jam in return.”
She bit her lip, but she gave me a paper dolphin, dog, and turtle. I squinted. The dog sort of looked like Ember.
I thought of Hikaru, who had begged for a toy from Mayor Taira. I couldn’t create a toy out of thin air, but there was a chance I could do something with her animals. “Thank you, Charlotte. I’ll bring the jam over tomorrow.”
“Um, sure,” she muttered. “Redbud jam would be nice, I guess.” Then she darted into the orphanage.
I shook my head after she disappeared. If only I could create a spell to understand her.
As the sun dipped toward the cliffs, scents of roasting meats and freshly baked bread drifted through the air, making my stomach grumble. A quick dinner of a day-old roll and hard cheese waited for me in the cottage, leftovers from when Rin had dropped by. Then I perked up. I still had a few yuzu cookies from my parents’ latest letter.
One look at my star-shaped hourglass told me what I already knew: less than half my time was remaining. I needed to work on my potions so that I had something to show Mayor Taira soon.
When the dinner bell rang, Davy guided his father back inside the shop, gently pulling him through the evening crowd. Then Davy poked his head out of the shop. “Eva?”
I looked up from reading Potions of Possibilities, turning the page as steam curled out of an illustration of a particularly noxious-looking potion. “Hmm?”
“Want to join us for dinner? Edmund’s made his famous roasted-squab skewers.”
My stomach protested as I motioned to the still-steaming tome in my lap and the half-fixed compass on the counter. I’d polished up the rose gold, but the needle continued pointing aimlessly, searching for something I couldn’t quite figure out. “I should really head back to work.”
Davy didn’t disappear back into the shop. Instead, he shuffled closer to the front of my counter and peeked out from under his dark, messy hair. “I don’t have much to pay with, but… can you help me with something?”
I put down my tome instantly. “What is it?”
“Come for dinner first,” he said, almost pleadingly. At that, my stomach growled and Ember’s belly echoed mine. Davy laughed, but there was a hint of sadness that chewed at me.
“I hope you have enough food for this bottomless pit,” I said, gesturing at my protesting stomach, and he finally cracked a true smile.
A small kitchen was tucked behind the stairs that went up to the bedrooms above Seafoam Sweets. The kitchen was a tidy, cheery corner, like the pristine shop, with sky-blue walls and thick herbs in planters on the windowsill. There, Yuri, Edmund, Davy, and I gathered around the rickety nettlewood table, and Edmund even set a plate on the floor for Ember. After Davy brought out some food for Mister Rydern, we tucked in to the feast, though Yuri and Edmund rushed back to the store whenever anyone rang the bell at the counter. Mayor Taira had mandated that all shops close at dinnertime, but since Seafoam was next to the docks, they had special permission to stay open late for any tourists searching for the perfect last-minute souvenir.
Over juicy squab stuffed between folds of pillowy-soft bread drizzled with melted butter, Yuri told me stories about how she and Edmund had met as bakers in Lunea, the realm north of Rivelle, and regaled me with tales of fallen soufflés and meals they had cooked up for the queen of Lunea. But when I shot a glance at Davy, his eyes were foggy with thoughts, and for Yuri’s jokes, his laughter rang a touch late.
Edmund shyly nodded along with Yuri’s stories, and his dark cheeks reddened when she exalted his cooking skills. On their honeymoon, they’d journeyed through Lunea and crossed the border into Rivelle. And when they’d seen a single spun-sugar dusklight flower displayed in Seafoam Sweets’ window, they knew they weren’t going back to Lunea.
My stomach groaned with fullness when I pushed away from the nettlewood table. The bell rang insistently, and Edmund and Yuri returned to attending to customers.
Davy and I washed the dishes in a quiet silence that stretched out. Finally, I cleared my throat. “The fix—what did you need?”
He dropped his dish into the basin, and a wave of soapy water splashed onto his shirt. “Well… it may be a lot to ask.”
I nudged him with my elbow. “I’m here to help Auteri. What can I do for you? Need help with your water-repellent watch? I’m working on a potion to repel water.”
Davy glanced at the front of the shop and lowered his voice. “It’s for my mother.”
My stomach dropped. This was more than a simple fix.
“Pa’s trances get worse when he’s by the water, and especially worse if the Culling is close. I… I know this sounds impossible, but what if Ma’s out there? What if she’s waiting for us?”
My chest ached with a strange loneliness. Something in his face mirrored the frothing, restless waters in the bay.
“How… how can I help you?” I asked, setting the last dish to dry on the rack. I slowly dried my hands as Davy poured out a tin cup of warm barley tea for me.
He jerkily set it on the table and tea sloshed over the sides. Grabbing a towel, Davy dabbed at the spill absently. He looked up at me, a faint gleam of hope in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have a charm for finding people, would you?”
I spoke carefully. “I’m not practiced in those enchantments.”
“But you fixed my sculpture. That was amazing, Eva.”
My heart twisted into knots. His mother had disappeared while at sea, years ago, without a word since.
I sat down at the table, my heavy stomach churning uneasily.
I couldn’t let him down, and yet—
What if I summoned her and ended up with nothing?
Or, even worse, a pile of sun-bleached bones?
“Davy, I’m not strong enough,” I whispered. “Mayor Taira’s expecting me to prepare Auteri for the Culling, but I haven’t got the slightest clue of how to help. I’m not strong enough for this, and I’ll bet that the Council will swoop in and take my magic after… after all this.”
Davy furrowed his forehead. “I think you’re stronger than you realize, Eva.”
I didn’t want him to pile on sympathy for me. He was the one asking for help. So I needed to find a solution, even if it wasn’t through one of my enchantments. “Maybe my mother would be able to create a finding spell. There’s some magic that witches and wizards can’t dabble in, though. Blood magic or anything related to rogue magic is absolutely banned.”
“I’d give any amount of blood to have Ma back.” Davy’s hands curled, his eyes clouded.
My fingers twitched for my wand. Just like with that woman in Mayor Taira’s office, I longed to vanish the shadows to his eyes and blast them away with a charm for infinite joy. I wanted to promise him that I could help find his mother, but there were still limits to magic. “I’ll discuss this with my mother, as soon as I see her. If there’s a way to find your mother without blood or rogue magic or anything like that, she’ll know.”
He dried his hands on a towel and leaned down to rub Ember behind his pointed ears. My flamefox smiled his foxlike smile, leaning into Davy’s hand. “Thanks, Eva. You’re a true friend. Well, I gotta go meet my sailor friends. They’ve been moaning about how Soma’s crew is beating them at ferrying in the most crates, so I said I’d help.”
Ember jumped into my lap, and I tightened my arms around him.
Davy glanced at me one more time, his brown eyes searching for answers I wasn’t sure that I could give him. He set his hands on the table and leaned forward, looking intently at me.
“Eva…” Davy’s breath caught in his throat and he said thickly, “You say you’re only semi-magical. That you’re not sure if you can become a Novice Witch. But I’ve seen what you did for my sculpture. You have real magic.”
As Ember and I walked out of Seafoam Swee
ts, a new sculpture in the window caught my eye. It was a globe of clear sugar, shaped like a teardrop. Suspended inside were three fish made of honey-gold sugar, glowing brightly as they swam. The fish stuck close together, like they never wanted to be apart.
NAME: Family
ARTISTS: Toru and Davy Rydern
Not for sale.
My heart beat in my chest, pounding louder and louder in my ears. My pale face reflected in the window and my dark eyes stared back, challenging me.
I felt like a girl who was not that tall, not that strong, not that magical.
But I had helped Davy and his father. The passengers and sailors that I had saved from the Hyodo tipped their hats at me when I saw them in town. Rin and Davy always made time for me. I’d helped Ami with her shop, and even Charlotte with the flyers. And Ember wanted to stay with me, instead of being part of Vaud’s pack of flamefoxes.
I wasn’t my mother.
But I still had magic.
There were people who did believe in me.
A fierce wind blew up from the waters, and the building creaked. I shuddered, touching the cool, white stone walls of Seafoam Sweets. Rin had said that some of the buildings had gotten knocked down during the Culling. What if I reinforced them?
Well, I didn’t want to try out my idea by knocking down houses. I needed to test it first. Ember took one look at me pulling my wand out and skittered away to chase a hissing cat down the street.
I raced to my counter and rummaged through the jars for a piece of parchment. Setting it on the crate, I gripped my wand as I thought of a charm. Could a building withstand the force of a storm tearing down the coast? I shivered.
I wanted a spell that wove in words about strength and protection. An enchantment that would help Auteri stay the way it was, with its beauty.
The words I had used on the boat—Stand up, stand tall, this boat will stay strong and protect all—had strengthened the hull when the walls had threatened to collapse. My skin prickled, imagining the coast battered by a storm or the buildings crumbling from an earthquake. Maybe if I used that enchantment and tweaked it just a bit…
Pressing my wand to the paper, I said, “Stand up, stand tall, this town will stay strong and protect all.”
The parchment flashed with a yellow glow. I reached out slowly and tapped it. It had hardened like a shell. A prickle ran up my spine.
Maybe—maybe—this could work.
Ember padded over and sat, watching.
“If this works out, I can pass my quest.” My heart pounded in my chest. There was still a chance for me to become a Novice Witch.
Most of all, I still had a chance at helping Auteri.
I turned toward the orphanage. The windows were flung open, breathing in the sea air, but the children were likely at dinner, getting fussed over by Charlotte.
I pressed the tip of my wand to the wall. Bits of stone crumbled down from my touch. I poured hope into each and every word, so that the spell would last through the end of the year. I needed to protect Auteri—and most of all I needed to protect the people who were coming to mean so much to me. “Stand up, stand tall, this town will stay strong and protect all.”
My vision wavered, as magic leached from my blood. The building pulsed with a faint pearly-white glow.
“Did it work?” I gasped. I brushed my fingers against the stone and rubbed them together.
This time, the grains of stone didn’t come off. It had to be doing something. I peeked up and down the docks, but no one had noticed the spell. Very quickly, I snatched up a pebble and tried scratching at the wall.
When I took my hand away, I stared. It hadn’t made a mark.
I breathed out. I could—I could do something.
A man came out of Seafoam Sweets, hoisting a big bag of candies onto his arm, and furrowed his brow. I quickly turned away, hiding my wand in my pocket. If someone noticed my wandwork, rumors might spread, and the townspeople might expect the impossible. I wasn’t sure if it would be enough, but…
Closing my eyes, I imagined Mayor Taira’s sharp eyes as I presented my paperwork to her.
Once I was sure this could work, I would reveal the charm on all the buildings, spelled to stand up to the Culling, and show her how the sharpest of rocks didn’t leave a mark.
That would change her mind.
Then she’d have to sign my paperwork. And I’d get to keep my powers.
If the cursed Culling hit Auteri, the buildings that I charmed would still stand through an earthquake or blizzard or anything that the Culling tried on the town, and she would acknowledge my work, far and wide.
A lightning bolt of fierce, wild hope shot through me, stronger than any waves that slammed against the shores.
I turned toward the center of town. My lungs pressed in sharply.
Hundreds—if not thousands—of buildings stretched from the edge of the water to the path leading up to the farmlands. I’d have to work every morning and every night to cover even a tenth of the town.
Mother had said that practicing magic was the only way to get better. Sometimes I liked to pretend that the only reason why Conroy was stronger was because he had been an Apprentice for years and years. I had thousands of charms, ready and waiting for me.
I gripped my wand and walked to the next building.
I had a sliver of a chance, but I’d take it.
CHAPTER 20
A PINCH OF MAGIC
I woke early with magic zipping through my veins. A peek at my hourglass told me what I already knew, as if the sands of time coursed through my blood. I’d been in Auteri for more than three weeks, and less than ten days remained.
Ember and I had started roaming the town early in the mornings so I could cast spells on the buildings before the workers woke. Today, each step I took felt infused with hope, that this would be the way I could protect Auteri from the Culling.
“Eva Evergreen, your town’s semi-magical witch, on the go!” I called, walking through the morning fog, even though only Ember was around to hear me.
I tapped my wand against the walls and chanted, “Stand up, stand tall, this town will stay strong and protect all.”
While I faced the wall of a house and prodded my wand at the stones, a sleepy-eyed worker stumbled out his front door and rubbed his eyes. I pretended I had been talking to Ember.
“Stand tall, Ember!” I said quickly.
Ember glared as if saying, Of course, blame the flamefox. And then he squatted, narrowed his eyes at me, and relieved himself. The worker gawked and hurried down to the docks, throwing one last suspicious look over his shoulder.
My face burned brighter than the sunrise.
It was a muggy day, and I diligently went from store to store, recruiting shopkeepers for the Festival of Lights.
I signed up the grocer for gold and blue necklaces he’d ordered from a witch in the farmlands, who had charmed the beads to glow in the dark, and mediated a debate when two bakers both wanted to make lightfish-shaped yeast rolls. I convinced one baker to make contomelon rolls formed like the town hall, and the other to make flaky croissants with petals shaped like delicate dusklight flowers.
Slowly, slowly, I was becoming more than the “seaweed witch” to the town.
As I wended up the cliffside, I heard an insistent tapping on glass. I grinned when I turned the corner to my cottage. A paper bird hopped along the windowsill. As my footsteps crunched on gravel, it perked up, fluttering over to my hand. The paper bird slid a small, cloth-wrapped package into my palm. When I undid the blue cloth, I gasped with delight.
Father had sent along cakes in the shape of tiny, elegant phoenixes, one of my favorite creatures in the entire realm. Each pastry phoenix had bright sesame eyes, and its intricate, whorled dough feathers were baked to a delightful golden-brown color. Ember’s eyes glinted as if he was ready to pounce, but I held them out of his reach, breathing in the mellow vanilla scent.
“Let the seal be broken, let this letter open,” I whisper
ed, and the paper bird unfolded. My parents sent letters—and Father’s baked creations—almost daily, but this letter was different. Mother’s handwriting, usually elegant, was cramped and jagged.
Dearest Eva,
I should’ve told you more about the Culling before you left, but we were busy trying spells and going on flying lessons for your quest.…
I should’ve told you more.
It was a secret within the Inner Council, but Kaya Ikko was—is—a scrying witch. When I went to meet her for tea, Kaya never showed up. And her rooms behind the bookstore look as if she’s just left it for a walk, everything still intact. Yet all my letters come back unopened, as if my spells can’t find her. She’s vanished.
Kaya created the strongest enchantments to scry the Culling. I don’t like where this is heading. If the Council didn’t ban others from interfering in Novice quests, I’d be with you in Auteri. I don’t like this at all.
The Inner Council has forbidden me from telling the public—or even the queen—that Kaya’s missing.
I have suspicions about what might’ve happened, but it’ll have to wait for your return. I fear our letters may get intercepted if it truly is rogue magic at work. But you’ll be done soon—just around ten days now, isn’t it?—and I can’t wait to see you. Stay safe. I’m worried that you’re out there alone. Protect your town, Eva. Do good.
With all my love,
Mother
My skin chilled as a sea breeze ruffled my hair. Kaya—missing? And one of the best scryers in the realm? What if the Culling hit before the Council could send out a warning?
I looked over at Auteri, at the beautiful lights flickering in the glass windows. Where Davy was likely chomping down his dinner as he took care of his father. Charlotte was probably stopping Hikaru and the orphanage kids from fighting over another paper animal. Somewhere, Mayor Taira was surely drawing up plans for the next day, figuring out how to manage the townspeople’s requests.