A Touch Unexpected

17. Revelations

17

Revelations

A day later, Rosalind sat across from Valentina at a rusted iron table outside the tavern with three cards in her hand. It was midday, though the sky gave no indication, gray and cloudy as it had been the day they arrived.

“I put,” said Valentina.

Rosalind peered over at her friend with a critical eye. Valentina simply smiled back. Was she bluffing? There was only one way to find out. “I see it,” she replied in her best attempt at a casual tone.

Valentina began by laying down the eight of diamonds, which Rosalind countered with the queen of spades. Queen beats eight; point to Rosalind.

Momentum on her side, Rosalind opted to reveal her highest card next—a two of diamonds. Valentina scoffed as she threw down a king of hearts. In this game, two surpassed any face card. Thus, another point to Rosalind.

With only a measly four of diamonds remaining, Rosalind knew she would lose the last hand. And indeed she did, as Valentina set down an ace of hearts. Point to Valentina. Still, because Rosalind had triumphed on two of the three hands, she won the game.

“I knew I should have played a different card first,” Valentina grumbled. “Play again?”

Rosalind nodded as she brought a diminutive cup to her lips. She took a sip and smiled. It was sumptuous—warm, thick, and sweet with hints of bitterness and spice. Quinn referred to it as “drinking chocolate” and was eager to reveal its secret ingredient: cayenne pepper.

Everyone they’d encountered since arriving in Ashwind kept their distance. Everyone, that is, except for Quinn, the tavernkeeper’s daughter. It was her hospitality that had coaxed Rosalind and Valentina out of their room, even as Jonathan was nowhere to be found.

The young woman spent nearly every free minute of her time talking with them, which wasn’t that often given it was only her and her father managing the tavern and inn. When free, she was eager to learn more about life in Proper and the affairs of high society, confessing that she hoped to visit one day. In addition to entertaining them with conversation, Quinn also made certain they were never without something to eat or drink. Just this morning, they had enjoyed a hearty meal of porridge and sausages. She had also been the one to give them the deck of cards they were playing with now.

As the winner of the last game, Rosalind was to lay down the first card of the new hand. She was considering her options when she was interrupted by a gruff voice.

“You’re a border born.”

Rosalind looked up to find Sylvan Raynor staring at her, his arms crossed over his chest. She hadn’t seen or heard him coming, and it took her a moment to register what he’d said.

“I am,” she admitted warily. “How did you know?”

But he needn’t have answered. She knew as soon as she glanced over at a rather rueful-looking Valentina. “Ah.”

“But the enchantment has dispelled,” Sylvan pressed on, his words more a statement than a question.

“You were able to touch her the other day, weren’t you? When you grabbed her without permission,” Valentina chimed in. “Not long after you threw a barrage of undue questions her way, might I add.”

Sylvan frowned. “I admit my attempts to uncover the truth were rather indelicate,” he conceded. After a brief pause, he added, “And for that, I apologize.”

Rosalind’s head drew back in surprise. A brief look at Valentina told her she wasn’t alone. She opened her mouth to thank him but was stopped short.

“How many people know of the circumstances around your birth, Miss Carver?”

And here she’d thought the apology indicated he was done probing. Evidently not.

“About the enchantment? Well, I suppose you could say just about everyone in Proper knows. There are those who made sure of it.”

“I see. I expect most didn’t take kindly to such knowledge.”

“Not particularly…”

“And what of border folk?” Valentina interjected. “Would they take kindly to someone like Ros?”

“Those more learned would be sympathetic. But…” He hesitated. “There are some who believe all enchantments, be they good or bad, attract misfortune. They’d rather not associate.”

Valentina leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms, and considered Sylvan. “And which are you?”

“No need to fret, princess. I am of the former. Tall tales told by the fire don’t sway my judgment, particularly when those tales were likely started by your lot to incite discord amongst us.”

“I’m glad to hear your judgment is not susceptible to ghost stories. If only the same could be said for prejudices. I can only hope your Keeper’s judgment is more resilient.”

“Lucky for you,” Sylvan bit back dryly, “it appears we’ll soon find out. ”

Rosalind followed his gaze to see Keeper Saintgarden and Jonathan strolling side by side, heading in their direction. It was the first time she’d laid eyes on Jonathan since the morning prior. Not long after she had left him to brush up on his notes, Rosalind had heard word that the Keeper had agreed to speak with him. He was nowhere to be found the remainder of the day, though Quinn mentioned she had delivered their dinners to a back room the Keeper occasionally reserved for private meetings.

Jonathan looked more like himself than he had this entire trip thus far. Gone were the stiff shoulders and heavy brow that had plagued him since they’d arrived. He looked comfortable, relaxed even, with his hands tucked into his pockets as he walked alongside the Keeper. His jacket was undone, as were the first couple of buttons of his shirt. It was perhaps the most casual she had ever seen him in public as acting Chancellor.

“Ah, Sylvan, just the person I was hoping to find. We’re not interrupting anything, are we?” Keeper Saintgarden glanced between Sylvan and Valentina.

“Not in the slightest, Serena. I take it things are going well?”

Rosalind was only mildly surprised to hear Valentina was on first-name terms with Keeper Saintgarden. She’d mentioned they had run into each other yesterday, and if anyone could build a rapport with someone in a single setting, it was Valentina.

Sylvan on the other hand appeared to have been completely caught off guard by it. And by the smug look on Valentina’s face, she’d gotten the response she was hoping for.

“Yes, well enough to warrant more conversations. But to do that, I’m going to need to provide a bit of context.” She directed her following words at Sylvan. “I would like to take our guests on a tour of Ashwind. A proper one. In the light of day.”

Sylvan narrowed his eyes. “You’re certain of this? ”

“I am.”

“What of the forest edge?”

“That, too.” The Keeper nodded.

Sylvan held the Keeper’s stare for a moment longer before offering a curt nod. “As you wish. I’ll need to grab a few things first.” He left without another word.

Keeper Saintgarden turned to Rosalind and Valentina. “I recommend changing into something comfortable. It’ll be a bit of a walk.”

Rosalind exited the tavern half an hour later with black trousers tucked into ankle boots and a navy wool coat Valentina insisted she wear. Because it was tailored to Valentina’s form, the coat didn’t quite button all the way up, so she threw on a gray scarf for added warmth.

Valentina followed closely behind, wearing a carefully crafted ensemble. She had packed an outfit for every occasion, she explained to Rosalind as they got dressed, hence the heavy suitcase. This specific outfit, consisting of a navy vest, matching trousers, knee-high riding boots, and a long burgundy tailcoat, was ideal for a brisk walk.

“You’re overdressed.”

Rosalind turned toward the voice and found Sylvan standing at the iron table they had been sitting at earlier, his foot resting atop one of the chairs. He appeared to be adjusting something on his leg. She worried he was referring to her. That is until he looked up and leveled a critical eye at Valentina.

“Am I? I’m not the one with daggers strapped at my thighs,” Valentina replied, brow raised. “Are we to expect trouble?” She considered him a moment longer. “And what’s with the case slung around your back? Is it a shovel? An axe? Tell me, Mr. Raynor, do you intend to murder us and dump our bodies in the forest? ”

“Dunno,” he said with a shrug. “Depends on how much you annoy me, princess.”

Valentina rolled her eyes. “Will you ever cease with the ‘princess’ nonsense?”

“Does it bother you?”

“As a matter of fact, it does.”

“Then, no.”

“Pardon?” Valentina said, a hint of disbelief in her voice.

“No,” he repeated. “I don’t think I will stop.” He flashed her a wry smile.

“Perhaps it’ll be your body left in the forest,” she grumbled.

Sylvan huffed a laugh. “I’d like to see you try, princess.”

Just then, the tavern door flew open. “Oh good, you haven’t left yet,” said a relieved Quinn. She directed her following words at Sylvan. “Can I join, please? Father said you were going to—”

“Don’t see why not,” he said, cutting her off. He glanced toward the sky, then shouted over his shoulder. “Should be any minute now, Serena.”

“Good. Let’s be off then, shall we?” The Keeper said, ushering the group to follow her lead.

Not long after they’d started down the road, Rosalind tugged at her scarf to loosen its grip around her neck. Moments later, she felt the warm caress of sunlight on her cheek. It was a most welcome feeling, having spent the last two days trapped under the weight of a drab gray sky. The clouds seemed impenetrable until now, and the presence of sunshine was like a breath of fresh air. How fortunate it should happen now as they explored the village.

Glancing around, Rosalind was struck by how different everything appeared. It was as if the sun had brought with it a new visage that enveloped the entire street. The cobblestones beneath her feet seemed smoother than they had before. They passed a bookshop she had seen on the way in, though she recalled its brick walls being more cracked and worn than they were now. She also could have sworn its front window had been coated in grime. But she must have been mistaken, for she could see into the shop and spy its rows of books in various shapes, sizes, and colors tucked neatly into shelves lining the far wall.

The flash of blue caught her eye. Her gaze trailed up the wall of one of the nearby shop buildings and landed on a little bluebird chirping atop the roof. Was this the first bird she’d seen since they arrived? Thinking back to earlier that morning, she recalled opening the window to their room and hearing nothing like the sweet birdsong she listened to now.

Could it be she’d gone mad? How was it she’d perceived Ashwind in such a dreadful light when it appeared to be a perfectly charming place?

“Ros,” Valentina murmured, leaning close. “Is it just me or…” Her words trailed off when Keeper Saintgarden brought the group to a halt.

“What you see now is Ashwind in its true form,” the Keeper explained. “That is to say, without masking charms.”

“You used magic to change the appearance of the entire village?” Jonathan asked. “Seems like quite an exhaustive task.”

“It can be, yes. Luckily, we have a few wielders on hand to aid in the process. Also, we didn’t charm the whole of Ashwind, only parts you were likely to see. Had you entered any of our shops, you would’ve glimpsed them as they are now.”

“Is this something you do often?”

“Every time an unfamiliar traveler ventures into Ashwind,” replied Keeper Saintgarden. “We have lookouts near our wall who alert us of incoming visitors. That’s when our wielders get to work. The less inviting a village appears, the less likely one is to overstay their welcome. ”

“It’s certainly impressive,” Jonathan said as he looked around. “I must admit, there are about a hundred questions racing around in my head at the moment.”

“We can confer as we walk,” the Keeper offered, gesturing forward. “I’ll answer them as best I can.”

As they continued down the main street, Rosalind could feel the stares of passing villagers boring down on them. Many of whom she locked eyes with maintained a look of skepticism, which was unnerving. However, she couldn’t help but notice a growing number of curious expressions. Perhaps word had gotten around as to what their party was up to. It was certainly to their benefit that they were accompanied by the Keeper herself.

Rosalind and Valentina had been careful to follow Keeper Saintgarden and Jonathan at a respectable distance so as not to eavesdrop. They, however, were not offered the same courtesy, as Quinn and Sylvan trailed closely behind.

“The clouds, were they a masking charm as well?” Rosalind asked as she peered up at the blue sky.

“That was Sylvan’s doing,” said a cheery voice behind her.

“Quinn,” grumbled another in response.

“Sorry, was I not supposed to say? I thought we were explaining things to them. Serena did.” Without waiting for Sylvan to answer, Quinn went on. “It wasn’t a masking charm. Those only work on inanimate objects. At least, I think that’s how it works. He did something different. He called the clouds here and then suspended them in place.”

Valentina turned on her heel and began walking backward without skipping a step. “You did that? Made it all somber and gray? Must have been hard for you, seeing as you’re a beacon of sunshine.”

To Rosalind’s surprise, the comment garnered a chuckle from Sylvan .

“He’s very good at weather-wielding,” Quinn proclaimed enthusiastically. “Like his grandmother, rest her soul. My favorite is when he summons rain on a sunny day. Makes for a lovely rainbow.”

“Tell them everything, why don’t you,” Sylvan huffed.

“How does one go about calling the clouds?” Valentina inquired. “A magic wand? A chant of some sort?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see, princess.”

Valentina frowned. She spun around so she faced forward again and slid her arm into Rosalind’s. “I know,” she declared louder than necessary. “I bet it’s through dance. That’s why we have to wait and see . Oh, I do hope it’s dancing, preferably of the ballet variety.”

Rosalind peered over her shoulder to find Sylvan scowling and muttering to himself.

A little while later, the party reached the end of the line of shops. The cobblestone road beneath them turned to gravel. Replacing the multi-story brick buildings of the main street were quaint cottages dotted along either side. They were quite fetching to look at. Some were adorned with colorful hand-painted porcelain tiles; others were covered in flowering ivy. All looked loved and lived in, unlike the homes they’d seen on their way in. Those, Rosalind realized now, must have been altered by masking charms.

The farther they walked along the gravel path, the more sparse the cottages became. Long grass of green and gold filled the spaces in between. Soon, there were no more homes in sight, only the grass, which grew thinner by the minute, and a grim tree line ahead.

As they neared the forest, a heavy mist settled in around them. Gone were the sunlight and birdsong. Ahead of them, skeletal tree trunks with long, spindly branches stretched out toward the sky and disappeared into the mist. Peering into the forest was like looking down a shark’s mouth: rows and rows of sharp shapes fading into a black abyss. Rosalind shivered, but whether it was because of the damp chill or haunting silence, she couldn’t say. What she did know was that she had no wish to stay.

Keeper Saintgarden halted. “This is where Ashwind ends and the Endless Forest begins. You wish to know about magic; this place is as good as any to start.”

She turned to Sylvan and nodded. He knelt and began to undo the latches of the case he’d brought with him.

“Magic isn’t born nor is it ever destroyed,” the Keeper explained. “Instead, it ebbs and flows around us in rhythm with the tides of nature. And while magic is not tangible to most, it is to some. And to fewer who study and train, magic can be wielded.”

As soon as the Keeper’s voice stilled, the silence that loomed in its wake quickly descended over the group. Just when Rosalind thought she couldn’t bear it any longer, a soft, unhurried melody pierced the oppressive quiet. She searched for its source and found it flowing out of a violin tucked under Sylvan’s chin.

His body swayed gently back and forth as he coaxed out long, lingering notes that faded in and out, one after the other. They were so close to meeting yet always just out of reach—until they weren’t. The notes began to touch, and slowly but surely, the melody gained pace. Soon, they wove in and out of one another as if they were dancing.

Rosalind didn’t know when she’d closed her eyes, but they flew open when she heard Valentina gasp. The forest in front of them was changing. The thin, crooked branches of the ghoulish trees began to stretch out, filling in the empty spaces around them. Tiny fuchsia buds sprouted along the branches and began to multiply, spreading across the tree line like wildfire. To Rosalind’s amazement, they were not small flowers but leaves that exploded to life. Soon, the forest was blanketed in a thick canopy of pink hues.

When Sylvan’s bow stilled, the sound of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the warm breeze echoed from the forest’s edge. Rosalind inhaled a familiar scent that tickled her senses, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Was it that of mulled wine or perhaps freshly baked gingerbread?

“Incredible,” she breathed.

Her eyes caught on gold specks that shimmered above one of the trees, not unlike the glimmer she saw on one of the buildings in Ashwind a couple of days back. The longer she stared at the forest, the more gold she saw. Soon, it was everywhere—it radiated from the treetops and rained down on the forest floor. How much more would she come to find within the forest itself?

It was then that a soft, low hum tickled the shell of her ears. There was something familiar about it, like the scent from earlier. Perhaps if she got closer, she could hear it better.

As she drew nearer, a warmth blossomed in her chest and radiated through her bones. The feeling was overwhelming and not enough at the same time.

In the distance, she thought she heard someone call her name.

“Rosalind,” repeated the voice, louder this time.

A hand caught her wrist and jolted her out of the haze. She looked up at Jonathan, who was watching her with concern etched on his face. “What are you doing?”

Confused, Rosalind glanced around and found they were no longer with the rest of the group but on their own. An awning of fuchsia blotted out the sun not far from where they stood, steps away from the forest’s edge.

“I… I don’t know what happened. I think…” She paused, considering as she spoke. “I think I wanted to see the gold up close. And then there was the song.”

“Song? There isn’t any song, Ros. Mr. Raynor isn’t playing anymore.” Jonathan’s voice was calm, but an undercurrent of worry shook the edges of his words. “And what gold are you referring to? ”

Rosalind reached out and swept her fingers through specks of gold glimmer floating around them. “This gold, can’t you see it?”

His brows furrowed, and his grip on her wrist tightened slightly. “No, Ros, I can’t—”

Footsteps approaching from behind Jonathan got their attention. “Come on, let’s head back,” Sylvan suggested. “I can explain.”

Rosalind’s cheeks reddened as she returned to where Valentina, the Keeper, and Quinn stood waiting. They watched her, each with a different expression. Valentina wore a curious look, while Keeper Saintgarden appeared contemplative. Quinn’s eyes were wide in surprise, but only for a moment. A shy smile appeared when her attention turned to Jonathan.

“As Serena alluded to earlier, magic exists everywhere in nature,” Sylvan began. “That being said, there are places where it concentrates. We refer to these places as magic wells, and right now, we stand outside the oldest and largest known well on the continent. The Endless Forest is called such not because of its size but for the immense amount of magic it harbors. It’s believed no amount of wielding could deplete it of all it contains.”

“The magic is so abundant, it overflows and feeds into the nearby earth. It’s why the borderlands are more fertile than elsewhere,” the Keeper added, her words directed at Jonathan.

“Before the powers that be banned wielding in Sauvign”—Sylvan threw a pointed look at Jonathan—“wielders from all over would travel to the forest to draw on its magic to imbue artifacts and draft elixirs. On occasion, they would also use it to cast powerful enchantments, such as the one Miss Carver endured. It’s an enchantment that has persisted for centuries and most know not to give birth within close proximity to the forest, but for whatever reason… ”

“My mother fell ill and couldn’t travel in time.” Rosalind didn’t elaborate beyond that. She couldn’t even if she’d wanted to, because it was all she could recall her father telling her.

Sylvan nodded sympathetically. “And now, for the past twenty-two years, you’ve lived with this enchantment, and the magic from this forest has lived within you.”

Rosalind gazed at the forest as she listened to Sylvan. Every word drew her closer to the realization that, deep down, she already understood.

“Once the enchantment ended, its precise magic dissipated,” Sylvan explained. “But the magic had been a part of you for so long, your body adapted. So now, in its stead is a void. A void that is capable of housing quite a bit of magic.” He met Rosalind’s gaze. “Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

“I believe so,” Rosalind replied as she rested a hand on her chest, recalling the warmth she’d felt when approaching the forest. “You’re suggesting I’m like the forest, a well of some sort.”

“A wandering well, yes,” Sylvan confirmed. “One that is free to move about, the magic contained within you.”

“The gold shimmer I see in the forest. Is that magic?”

“It is.”

“Are you certain of this?” Jonathan asked. “Of Ros being a—a well for magic or what have you.”

“I am. I knew she was as soon as I touched her that first night.”

Jonathan straightened. “Pardon?”

Sylvan scoffed. “At ease, Chancellor. I was only trying to work out why she had magic about her. When I touched her hand, I felt it. Much more than you or I possess. And I reckon if I were to do it again now, there’d be much more.”

Jonathan eyed him warily. “How do you mean?”

“When Miss Carver arrived at Ashwind, she would have had some amount of magic already dwelling in her, likely absorbed from the natural world. Now, here we are, just steps from the Endless Forest. Some of its magic has surely transferred to her. I suspect that’s why the forest called to her. It recognized what she was and sought to share its magic with her.”

“Why would it do that?” This time it was Valentina who spoke.

“Magic is,” Sylvan considered for a moment, “well, it’s not sentient, per se, but it is alive. And it doesn’t like to sit still for too long if it can help it. It wants to be used, to move freely through the world. Without wielders to help it along, it gets”—he hesitated—“restless. Someone like Miss Carver offers a nice alternative.”

“Can she use the magic?” Valentina asked.

“Wield it?” Sylvan clarified. “No, she cannot. She isn’t a wielder, only a well, which is rare enough on its own. To be both would be exceedingly so.”

“Is it dangerous? For her, I mean,” Jonathan asked.

“No, magic on its own isn’t dangerous,” Sylvan began, “but…”

“Sylvan,” the Keeper cut in. “Perhaps that’s enough for now. You can explain more to Miss Carver later.” She spoke gently, but her tone held command. “Wind carries.”

“The forest has been revealed for too long as it is,” Sylvan agreed. And with that, he lifted the bow to his violin, drawing out the somber melody from earlier. In front of their eyes, the forest’s lush fuchsia leaves withered away, leaving a grave of wooden skeletons in its wake.

Rosalind chewed the inside of her lip as she contemplated everything she’d just learned. She was growing accustomed to being free of the enchantment, free to finally live a normal life. Only, that would never be the case, not really. She was never going to be normal. Magic, it seemed, was destined to play a part in her life forever. At least with the enchantment, she knew what to expect, but now? What was Sylvan going to say before the Keeper stopped him? And why did she think it wasn’t safe to discuss in the open?

Part of her was glad Keeper Saintgarden stepped in. She didn’t think she could handle any more revelations today. They had witnessed so much in one afternoon, all of it wondrous. She wouldn’t soon forget the transformative melody of Sylvan’s violin or the Endless Forest in all its beauty. How she wished that was all she had come away with. Instead, she would also come away with the forest’s magic dwelling within her. And while she was assured the magic itself was not harmful, Rosalind knew full well what people’s perception of it could be. This, she feared, made her more of a liability to the Rashfords than her enchantment ever had.

If someone were to find out, she could be accused of wielding, and the Rashfords could be charged with harboring a wielder. It wasn’t true, of course, but what proof could she offer to substantiate it? And even if they were somehow found innocent, the scandal of it all would be enough to ruin their reputation. The charges alone would be enough to warrant a call for Jonathan’s dismissal from the regional council. Valentina’s future, all that Jonathan had worked for, not to mention the livelihood of the Brighthall Manor household, would be at stake.

“Ros.”

Rosalind glanced up absentmindedly, her mind still spiraling within. The thoughts dispersed as soon as she registered the tenderness and concern in Jonathan’s gaze. A burning sensation raced along her lower lash line, and she had to look away before the tears surfaced.

The last she knew, she had been trailing the rest of the party on their way back to town. Sylvan accompanied the Keeper at the front while Quinn entertained Jonathan and Valentina with the latest gossip she’d overheard at the tavern. Rosalind wasn’t sure when Jonathan had fallen back to join her, but here he was, walking beside her with his hands clasped behind his back.

“You don’t have to stay back with me. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Rosalind tried again, not wanting him to feel obligated to keep her company.

“Now that we’ve seen wielding first hand, aren’t you eager to know how it’s used in farming? That’s what you came here for after all. You could be learning about it right this minute if you were up there with Mr. Raynor and the Keeper.”

“I could,” Jonathan admitted. “And I will. But it can wait. Right now, right here is precisely where I want to be.”

A lump formed in Rosalind’s throat, and his words made it all the harder for her to fight back tears that threatened to fall. Why was it always so difficult to rein in her emotions when people were kind to her? She was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to think, let alone how to act. Hoping to distract from her emotions, she curled her hand into a fist and dug her nails into the palm of her hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he inquired.

“Not really,” she said quietly so as not to risk a quiver in her voice.

“Alright.”

Jonathan made no attempt to force the issue, and for a short while, the two walked together in companionable silence.

“What do we think? Does Val go out of her way to annoy Mr. Raynor because she despises him or because she’s keen on him?”

“Huh?” Rosalind responded inelegantly, the question taking her by surprise.

Jonathan shrugged. “You know her better than I, but my bet’s on the latter. ”

It took her longer to catch on to what he was doing than she cared to admit. “An astute observation,” she said through a smile. “One I’m inclined to agree with.”

Before long, Rosalind felt the gravel pathway give way to cobblestones. Up ahead, the buildings of Ashwind’s main street were crowding in on either side. It had turned from day to dusk on their walk back and now the glow of streetlamps guided them toward the tavern.

Quinn shrieked, startling Rosalind and the rest of the party. Rosalind craned her head to see what had caused the young woman’s reaction. The wooden door to the tavern was ajar. Bursts of shouts and laughter rang out from inside. A few patrons stood nearby smoking and chatting, drinks in hand, and by the looks of it, more were headed its way.

“Father’s going to have my head,” Quinn exclaimed as she hurried toward the tavern.

“Looks like the word’s out,” said Keeper Saintgarden. “I reckon Leon did the telling, knew it’d be good for business. Lots of curious folks will be wanting a piece of you tonight, Chancellor. I’d say we’re in for a lively evening.”