“I’m sure you can write your own letter,” I said. “Or is it one of my duties as your assistant?”
“Actually, I only asked because your penmanship is much nicer than mine. Magister is fond of telling me that my handwriting looks like the scratches of a blind chicken.”
I sighed, pulling a small writing quill and a fresh sheet of paper from my bag.
“Dear Magister,” North dictated. “Thank you for your help. I do think you’re correct in supposing that the ingredient should work, but I’ve tried once to little effect. I don’t believe I will try again, not for lack of curiosity but for lack of propriety. Also, I’m quite glad that your wheat fields have finally picked up again. As if there was any doubt that you could fix them yourself—keeping up, Syd?”
I cursed under my breath and crossed out where I had written, Keeping up, Syd?
“Yes,” I said, sighing. “Keep going.”
“I have the information I need, though I’m not sure my very dear friend will hear me out,” North continued. “Yes, I am aware of what has been going on with Oliver, though I haven’t received a letter from him in quite some time.”
“What’s going on with Oliver?” I asked, looking up.
“Nosy today, aren’t we?” He smiled.
“Fine, fine,” I said. “Keep going.”
“I’ve sent him numerous messages, but he seems too enthralled with his newfound power to listen. I’ll try to write to him again, but I can’t trust the post with these things. Magister, I know you wanted to see us, but I won’t be coming to see you with my beautiful, beautiful darling—!”
“Stop it!” I said, crossing out the last three words I had written. “You are so ridiculous!”
“Here, I’ll finish it,” he said. He pulled the paper away before I could protest. I thought it was strange he didn’t want me to see what he was writing—and I did try to look, but his magister had been correct. He wrote like a blind chicken.
There was only enough time for him to seal the letter with wax before one of the village boys burst into the cabin.
“It’s here,” he said breathlessly. “We saw it through the schoolhouse windows—down by the stream.”
North and I stood at the same moment, but his arm lashed out, stalling me.
“Stay here!” he said. I took a step forward, but he would have none of it.
“Right here!” he said. “For once in your life, do as I say!”
The cabin door slammed shut behind him, but it didn’t stay that way for long. The last time North had gone off like this, he had come back with burns from a dragon. I wasn’t going to be left behind, not again.
The afternoon air cut through my thin dress as I ran, following North down the long hill. And when he and his cloaks finally got so far ahead that they were out of sight, I followed the trail his boot prints had left behind.
At the first sign of the specter the children had been drawn inside, and the bell inside the school’s small tower was still ringing. I was sure I heard someone call my name, once, maybe even twice, but I kept running. My hair flew around my face as I made a sharp turn straight into the forest.
The sound of the bell died slowly, just as I lost the trail of North’s boot prints in a clearing. I glanced around. He must have twisted—it was the only explanation. That, or he had climbed up into the trees.
I moved to the other edge of the clearing. Nothing. Not even a rabbit or bird.
There was, however, the strangest sensation at my feet. Even through the leather of my boots, I could feel the brush of cool silk against my skin. The mist from the mountains had rolled down into the forest, hovering around my ankles in a pool of white.
Yet when I moved, so did the mist. It swirled without the aid of wind, gathering into large pockets between the trees. A breeze lifted the hem of my dress and sent my hair flying.
I took a step back. My skin felt ready to crawl off my bones.
The hand that latched on to my bare arm felt frozen to the touch, and that alone was enough to make me scream.
“Miss Mirabil!” Lady Aphra said in a rush of breath. Her face had lost all its robust color. “Do you not understand the concept of danger? Or is there so much dust and dirt crammed up in your ears that you can’t listen to the warnings people have given you?”
“Did you see?” I gasped. “Did you see it?”
“I saw nothing but a foolish girl, running out into the woods to get herself killed!”
The old woman’s fingernails dug into my skin like claws and didn’t release me until we were halfway up the hill to her cottage. When I did look back, I saw nothing to be frightened of except the suddenly empty air.
I was tempted to escape the confines of Aphra’s cabin more than once, and the desire grew with each passing hour—each minute—North was gone. I forced myself to stay inside, alternating between weaving North’s cloak and playing with those few potion ingredients I had left. My mind was too restless to settle.
After a few hours, Lady Aphra shut the door quietly behind her and set a small basket beside me on the floor. I looked, surprised to find it full of more plants than I could identify.
“They go to waste in my garden,” she explained, her voice low and rough. “I don’t have the patience for such things. I suspect you’ll need them more than I will.”
“Thank you,” I said. It wasn’t an apology for the way she had scolded me earlier, but it was likely the closest thing I would receive. I poured the pain elixir I had just finished into an empty jar.
Lady Aphra walked over to the small window. Her eyes were cast out over the valley below, but I knew exactly what they were searching for.
“He’ll take care of it,” I said, trying to sound confident.
“I’m sure. I am getting a little concerned, however,” she said. She wiped her hands on her apron. “He’d better be back before dark.”
“Are the children still inside?” I asked.
“We’ve kept them in the schoolhouse all day, but they won’t stand for it much longer,” she said.
“I’m sure—” I began, but her body tightened like a spring, and she shot toward the door.
I jumped to my feet and followed her outside. I hoped that with the day’s work done, North would be open to the idea of traveling that night.