Two - Ranulf
I woke upto the scent of fresh bread. The enticing aroma permeated every corner of the attic bedroom that had become my refuge yesterday afternoon. I had finished carving the last enchantments I wanted to send to Wulfkin, pulling magic from the node to imbue the wooden discs with healing spells. I had successfully avoided Scarlette, grabbing a bowl of soup from the pot over the fireplace and carrying it upstairs with me for supper rather than staying at the table.
Something told me that she wouldn’t leave if I hid up here any longer. If I wanted her gone—and I did—I needed to go downstairs and push her out the door. I groaned and rolled out of bed. The sooner she returned to Wulfkin, the better.
Also, I wanted to try the bread. It smelled even better than the loaves my grandmother made.
I dressed quickly and climbed down the narrow staircase that led to my bedroom, my dirty bowl from last night in one hand, the basket of magical talismans hanging from my arm. The instant I had opened the trapdoor, the scent of the bread had become even stronger, and my mouth was watering by the time I walked down the hall and into the main room of the cottage.
“Good morning!” Scarlette was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. Her dark blue skirt swished around her ankles as she turned to greet me. Bright yellow flowers decorated the bodice that cinched tight at her waist and flared over her hips. A sky-blue kerchief corralled her hair.
I wanted to walk over, tug the kerchief off, and run my fingers through her ruby red tresses while I kissed her senseless. Everything about her had sparked my interest when I threw open the door yesterday. There was the purely physical, of course, but that wasn’t all. Her lips begged to be kissed because of the way she held onto her smile no matter the provocation. I wanted to wrap her in my arms because she refused to admit any weakness. She was the embodiment of goodness and joy.
She was the last thing I wanted to be reminded of every time I turned around. I saw no point in caving to temporary desires. But my conviction didn’t change the fact that she was a temptation. I needed her gone as soon as possible. Before the dream morphed into a nightmare.
When I didn’t say anything, Scarlette filled the silence herself. “I made bread. I saw the starter, found the flour, and since there wasn’t an old loaf, I figured you would appreciate a fresh one. I also gathered the eggs from the chickens.” She pointed at the bowl on the counter.
“When did you wake up?” It sounded like an accusation, even to me. I never was good at friendly. In this case, I was glad for my lack of social skills. Maybe she’d leave sooner.
She smiled at me. “I’ve always been an early riser.”
I hadn’t believed that someone’s smile could light up a room before. But yesterday—and now—Scarlette’s smile did just that. It wasn’t that she didn’t have shadows. I had seen the sorrow, the worry, when she spoke of her mother’s illness. Then I had seen her banish those shadows, just like she did now.
I didn’t want Scarlette’s light shining on me. Sooner or later, the darkness would return. When it did, it would make the memories of brightness even worse. It was better to hide in the shadows.
I set my bowl in the sink and noticed that there were no dishes there. In fact, the entire kitchen looked much cleaner than it had yesterday afternoon. I wasn’t a slob. Even with Grandmother gone these past few days, I had kept the cottage clean. But I preferred to do all the dishes at once in the evening. And I didn’t think the counters had ever looked as clean as they did right then. I didn’t even know wood could sparkle.
I pulled the basket from my arm and shoved it at Scarlette. “Here. These are the charms and enchantments to take to the village.”
She took the basket and reached for the cloth covering the top.
“Don’t touch them. You don’t want to activate an enchantment accidentally and make it waste all its magic.”
Her hand snapped back as if slapped. “Sorry.”
“Just . . . take them to Wulfkin.” I tried to find a modicum of self-control. The bruised look in Scarlette’s brown eyes was too much, even for me. “Please.”
“Wulfkin. Right.” Her smile wavered, then steadied, but it wasn’t as bright as before. “You’ll have the charm ready for me in a week?”
Her mother’s life depended on this charm, I knew. I tried to gentle my tone without letting her think my resolve had softened. “I’ll bring it to you in one week.”
She nodded. “I suppose I should be on my way, then. Thank you.”
She hitched the basket into the crook of her elbow and turned toward the front door.
I glanced over at the table at the loaf of fresh bread. Uncut. Then I looked at the full bowl of eggs on the counter next to me. “Wait.”
She turned back, and Ward protect me, there was so much hope in her eyes. I tried to ignore it. “You haven’t eaten. It’s a long walk to Wulfkin. You should have breakfast first.”
“I’m—”
“Sit down.”
She sat. Then she jumped back to her feet when I grabbed two eggs from the bowl. “I can—”
“So can I. You already made bread. If you must do more, you can slice it while I boil the eggs.” I pumped water into a pot and hooked it over the fireplace. Scarlette had already built it up to a good blaze to bake the bread in the cast-iron pot over the coals, so it didn’t take long for the water to boil. I slid the eggs into the pot and pulled the kettle off the fire. A few minutes later, Scarlette and I sat across from each other, a thick slice of bread, a soft-boiled egg, and a mug of tea in front of us both.
I took a bite of bread. It tasted as good as I had hoped based on the smell. It was so good that I considered inviting Scarlette to stay. Then I looked at her, sliding a spoonful of egg into her mouth and knew I couldn’t. She was too bright. Too hopeful. Too beautiful.
Too much.
I’d become addicted. Then she’d leave.
I’d been fine with my solitude before she came to the cottage, I’d be fine once she left—if I didn’t let myself grow attached. She’d be nothing more than a distraction if I let her stay. A living, breathing, gorgeous distraction.
Still, my grandmother had tried to raise me to be somewhat less of a barbarian than I was naturally inclined to be. “The bread is delicious. Thank you for making it.”
She swallowed, and the look she gave me could have shamed the sun. “You’re welcome. I love baking. I wish I got the chance more often.”
I almost asked what she normally did. The words were on the tip of my tongue before I caught myself. I didn’t need to know. I didn’t want to know anything more about her. Taking another bite, I let the conversation fall.
Scarlette finished eating before me—probably because she limited herself to a single slice of bread. When she swallowed her last morsel, she rose from the table and began cleaning her dishes. I decided not to object and focused on finishing my third slice of bread. When I stood, I picked up the basket instead of my plate and carried it back to Scarlette.
“Thank you again for the bread. Also, for delivering these charms. I’ll see you in a week.”
She didn’t protest this time, taking the basket without meeting my gaze. I was careful not to allow so much as a fingertip brush her skin. Ward save me, I shouldn’t be having this hard of a time. I felt less of a pull toward women I had slept with than Scarlette.
I concentrated on the memory of watching my mother walk out of the cottage, the need to roam stronger than the need to watch her children grow into adults. She had stayed with us until we were five, but it had been a struggle for her. She had returned often at first, but over the years, her visits became shorter, with longer stretches in between.
The memories were enough to harden my resolve. Scarlette was a temporary nuisance, nothing more.
She stared at a button on my vest. “Thank you for everything. I’ll be careful and make sure the enchantments reach Wulfkin safely. I can never repay you enough for the charm you are making me, so I’ll say it once more. Thank you.”
She left the cottage, and I forced myself not to stand by the front window watching her go. I tried to convince myself that I had sent her away as much for her sake as my own. If she wanted a charm powerful enough to provide continual healing for years, then I needed to focus.
The quality of a charm depended on multiple factors. The materials needed to resonate with the power and the mage. For an active power, that meant glass or gemstones. The shape mattered, too. Rosalia had sent Scarlette with a glass cube because body-healing charms took to that shape best. Technically, I could make do with a sphere, but the further from the ideal the charm was, the less powerful it would be, no matter how talented the mage crafting it.
The node made my family the strongest healers in the kingdom. When we were within node lands. The magical well of power, fed by multiple ley lines, sat in the middle of the cottage, but we could tap into it over a far greater distance. I walked through it multiple times a day, the magic doing nothing until I harnessed my will. If I traveled a little less than a dozen miles from the node, no amount of will allowed me to channel that energy. I was a healer only because my ancestor had locked this node, tying it to his power and bloodline.
Beyond node lands, I only had access to my innate magic, which wasn’t healing at all, but its passive counterpart, body-reading. I had made the enchantment Rosalia used to diagnose Scarlette’s mother. I renewed it for her every time she visited. Without the node, I could not heal. Here in the cottage, however, I was more powerful than any healer who could rely only on their own inborn mage-talent.
I had access to the magic needed for Scarlette’s charm, but I couldn’t create it with a wave of my hand. She needed it to last. Not months, but years. I planned for decades. That meant a sustained effort. Pinprick focus.
I grabbed the base for the charm and cupped the cube in my hands. I pulled the power from the node, the blood-lock shaping it into healing power. It was my concentration that funneled the magic into the vessel shaped to receive it. My energy reserves that were used up even while the node’s power never diminished.
I could only do so much in one sitting. When I felt the first throbs of a headache forming, I put the charm aside. My exhaustion was mental, but it still took several moments to gather the energy to stand. Doing something physical would help me recover, I knew.
I stretched my hands over my head, curving my back and going up on tiptoe. Letting out a breath and lowering my arms, I glanced at the clock on the mantle. The dark wood was polished almost to a mirror shine, the gift from my mother a cherished possession of Grandmother’s.
I knew my grandmother missed her daughter and granddaughter, but she accepted why they couldn’t stay in Drakona Forest in a way I couldn’t. Like Grandmother, both my mother and sister were healers by birth. The node magnified their power, but they didn’t need it. Waiting in the cottage for an emergency to befall a villager, making charms and enchantments, didn’t suit their temperaments.
As soon as she came of age, Mother had left the forest to travel the world, healing those in need. She had returned when she was pregnant with me and Rosalia, but she wasn’t able to settle down the way Grandmother had. Then, a few years ago, Rosalia had set off on her own, too.
I didn’t understand their need to wander. Even if I could have healed people like they did outside of node lands, I wouldn’t want to travel the kingdom. I appreciated my ability to help others without having to speak to them. I could make magical talismans and sell them to the outside world through Thalia in Wulfkin.
Thinking about the charms and enchantments had me thinking of Scarlette. She had left about two hours ago, which meant she’d probably be a little less than halfway to the village now. So long as nothing had happened to her on the way.
I knew the path to Wulfkin was relatively safe. The odds of anything happening to Scarlette were minimal. But she was in an unfamiliar forest and worried about her mother. She was probably upset because of me.
I was out the back door of the cottage before I could think the better of my plan. It wasn’t even a plan so much as a need to make sure she was still safe. It only took a few minutes to walk to the banks of the river. I paused at the edge of the tree line and stripped, folding my clothes and placing them in a hollow I had created years ago for just that purpose. My clothes protected from the elements, I walked toward the river. I slipped the necklace holding two summons crystals and an unfinished charm over my head, letting it dangle from my wrist.
I shot a burst of node power into the charm, tying off the magic and activating it. I always carried an active charm with me if I might leave node lands. It was nothing like the one I was making for Scarlette, but it would last long enough if there was an emergency and a villager needed to be healed.
Once I was far enough from the trees, I called up the magic of the node. Power filled me. It should have been exhausting after the work I had done this morning, but this was different than making charms. I was no longer a conduit, but the vessel. I let the power saturate my bones and blood.
Then I shifted.
Scales covered my skin. My body grew, elongated. Wings spread from my shoulder blades and a tail extended from the base of my spine. In less than a heartbeat, I was done and let the power fade. The necklace fit snugly on my front ankle, where I could still see the crystals in case of a summons.
Once shifted, I didn’t need magic to maintain my shape. I could even leave node lands. I couldn’t shift back once I flew beyond the node’s reach, but that had never bothered me. When I shifted, I wanted the freedom to fly far and wide. I knew I’d always be able to come home and return to human form when I was ready.
Perhaps this was why my mother and sister needed to leave Drakona Forest. They had to work harder to get that sense of freedom. Neither of them could use the power of the node to become a dragon instead.
I launched myself into the air, my wings barely fitting between the break in the tree line on each side of the river. If Scarlette had ventured away from the riverbank, I’d never spot her under the dense foliage. I wouldn’t know if she was safe.
Freedom didn’t mean much if it was built on uncertainties.