Chapter 27
Aric
THE WORKSHOP SITS TUCKED BEHIND the cottage, a sturdy wooden structure with wide doors thrown open to let in the autumn air. I can hear the smooth rhythmic whooshing of a blade against wood before I even round the corner.
When I step through the doorway, I have to pause to let my eyes adjust to the dimmer light inside.
The workshop is organized chaos. Tools hang neatly on the walls—saws, chisels, planes, mallets—but every surface is covered with projects in various stages of completion: a rocking chair in the corner, a half-carved picture frame on one bench, what looks like the start of a cabinet against the far wall.
And in the center of it all, bent over a workbench, is a man I assume must be Alden.
He’s human—from what I can tell—and probably in his late thirties or early forties, with sun-weathered skin.
His dark hair is pulled back in a messy topknot, and sawdust clings to his rolled-up sleeves.
He doesn’t notice me at first, too focused on the piece of wood he’s working, running the plane along its length with precise practiced strokes.
I watch as curls of wood peel away from the blade, falling like ribbons to the floor.
There’s something almost meditative about it, the focus and the quiet satisfaction of shaping something by hand.
That’s one of the things I enjoy about cooking: taking a bunch of unrelated ingredients and using my hands to turn them into something more than they were on their own.
Alden still hasn’t noticed me, so I clear my throat and rap my knuckles against one of the open doors. He looks up, and his forehead furrows when he sees me.
I quickly explain, “I’m Aric. I came along with Poppy to get something for Professor Silvermoon.”
“Ah.” Some of the confusion leaves his face.
“Didn’t hear you come in.” He sets the plane down and wipes his hands on a rag.
“Aurora mentioned a student would be visiting.” His voice is deep and low, and he speaks slowly, like he’s not in any sort of rush.
But I guess you need to have patience when it comes to woodworking.
“Yeah.” I take another step into the workshop, unable to keep from looking around. “Sorry to interrupt. Aurora asked me to let you know lunch is almost ready.”
“Oh, good. I’m starving.” He tucks the rag into the pocket of his trousers and glances at the piece he’s been working on. “Just wanted to finish smoothing this edge before I stopped.”
I move closer, drawn to the workbench. The piece of wood looks to be just over two feet long and perfectly straight, with a beautiful grain. “What are you making?” I ask.
“Legs for a dining table,” Alden says, gesturing to several other pieces leaning against the wall. “Commission from a family in the village.” He runs a hand along the wood.
“It’s incredible work,” I say. Something about seeing someone craft something with their hands has always been fascinating to me. “My grandfather used to carve little animals for me when I was a kid.”
Alden’s expression warms. “I do the same for my children.”
I nod, and my wandering gaze homes in on what look to be a few runes etched into a scrap piece of wood lying on a nearby table. I point to it and ask, “Do you use runes in your work?”
Alden grunts, then rounds the workbench and picks up the scrap piece of wood, examining it.
“Not successfully. With Aurora’s help, I’ve been trying to incorporate some runework—preservation runes mostly, to help protect the wood from warping or rot.
” Under his dark beard, his lips pull up on one side.
“I’m not sure how well Aurora paid attention in her rune class though. Most of what we’ve tried has failed.”
He holds up the wood, and I can better see the runes carved into it—basic protection symbols, carved cleanly but . . . not quite right. With Poppy’s help, I’ve learned a lot, and I can tell a different collection of runes would work better.
“May I?” I ask, gesturing to the wood.
Alden nods and offers it to me.
I take it, running my fingers over the carved runes. “These runes aren’t bad, but they’d probably work better with other materials, like metal or stone. For wood, you’d want something different.”
Alden crosses his broad arms, his brow furrowing. “Different how?”
I recall all the lessons Poppy has taught me.
“I’d probably use spiritus for breath, paired with durabilis to add durability and lignum to enhance the natural properties of the wood.
” I point to the existing runes. “These protection runes try to create an impenetrable barrier, but wood needs to breathe.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I blink in surprise. I actually . . . know this stuff. Poppy and I just covered material-specific applications for an assignment in my runesmithing class, but I didn’t think it would come in handy in the real world.
“Huh.” Alden studies the wood with narrowed eyes. “Aurora and I have been trying the same runes for months with no luck.” He reaches across the table and picks up a chisel. “Can you show me those runes? Spiritus and, uh . . .”
I crack a smile. “Durabilis and lignum. Yeah, I’ll show you.”
For the next several minutes, I demonstrate, carefully carving the new collection of runes into a fresh piece of scrap wood.
When I’m done, I add a fourth rune in the center: vita, for life.
It’s the same one we used to power the runes that gave Ma’s ring its silver glow.
Poppy drilled that into my head: Every rune map needs to be able to draw its power from something, and vita’s the perfect option.
Alden watches intently, his eyes tracking the chisel.
My lines are messy, but they’re clear enough to be used as an example.
He picks up another scrap piece and tries it himself, using mine for reference.
His hands are much steadier than mine, and he carves the runes cleanly and carefully into his block of wood.
“Now what?” he asks when he’s done.
I hold out my hand, and he passes me the scrap piece of wood.
I press my hand over the top of it and close my eyes, focusing on my intention for strength and stability of the wood and pushing it into the rune.
There’s a brief moment where nothing happens, but then the runes heat to the touch beneath my hand, and I open my eyes with a smile, showing Alden the brief glow of magic before it disperses. “There. That should hold.”
Alden takes the wood and turns it over in his calloused hands. “How long have you been studying runesmithing?”
“A couple years at Coven Crest,” I say. “And Poppy’s been helping me a lot. I’d probably have flunked out if not for her help.”
Alden cracks a small smile. “What’s your plan for after school?”
I shrug, running my hand along the work surface beside us, feeling the grit of wood dust against my palm. “I’m not sure. I’ve got to pass my classes first . . . And if I do graduate, I guess I’ll just figure it out as I go. I’ve never been very good at planning ahead.”
Alden nods slowly, reaching up to scratch his beard, which I now notice has wood shavings in it. “The world expects you to have it all figured out by the time you’re done with school, but life doesn’t always work that way.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
He’s silent for a moment, studying me. Then he says, “You know, I’ve been looking for an apprentice.”
My brows arch up. “An apprentice?”
He gestures around the workshop with a calloused hand.
“I’ve been doing this for over twenty years, but I’m human.
I don’t have rune magic. I can carve the symbols, but I can’t actually enchant the wood.
Aurora helps where she can, but it’s not the same as having someone who really understands runework.
” He taps the table leg he was working on earlier, then meets my eyes. “I could use someone like you.”
I stare at him, not quite believing what I’m hearing. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Completely serious.” Alden crosses his arms again, leaning against the workbench.
“I can teach you the woodworking—you’ve clearly got good hands and an eye for detail.
” He juts his chin toward the scrap of wood on the table beside me, with the runes I carved into it.
“And you could bring your runesmithing knowledge to the craft. We’d make things that last. Pieces that families could pass down.
And I wouldn’t have to replace the siding on the cottage near so often .
. .” He pauses, then adds, “It would be a two-year apprenticeship, standard contract. Room and board included if you need it, plus a small wage while you learn, and then a share of the profits once you’re skilled enough to take on your own projects. ”
My mind races. An apprenticeship. Here in Faunwood. Doing work with my hands, work that would let me use my magic in a way that feels meaningful instead of for the sole purpose of proving to my professors that I’m paying attention in class.
Even though I haven’t spent much time thinking of what my future might look like, that doesn’t sound too bad.
“I . . .” I don’t know what to say. “I’d need to finish at the academy first. I’m in my final year.”
“Of course,” Alden says easily. “The offer would stand for after you graduate. Think about it, talk it over with your family.” He claps me on the shoulder, his grip firm enough to jostle me despite how big I am. “Now come on, let’s get some lunch before Aurora comes looking for us.”
He leads the way out of the woodshop, brushing wood shavings from his clothes as we go. While we walk back toward the cottage, my head keeps spinning. An apprenticeship with Alden. The chance to work with my hands, to create things, to start a real life.
This could be the start of an actual plan for after graduation. Assuming I graduate and actually get to start my real life.
When we round the corner of the cottage, Poppy is helping Aurora set the table, her lavender hair glowing in the sun. She looks up, and when she sees me, her whole face lights up with a smile.
And just like that, the excitement dims a little.
An apprenticeship here would mean moving to Faunwood after I graduate. Which would also mean leaving Poppy behind at Coven Crest for her final year.
A year apart. Maybe longer, depending on what she decides to do after she graduates. Assuming she even wants to be with me that long.
Is she even with me now? I guess I’m still not sure what this thing between us even is.
The thought sits heavy in my chest. This feels like a great opportunity, but it would also mean distance between us, which is the last thing I want.
Alden was right. I do need to think about this. Really think about it. Maybe I’ll run it by Maeve. She usually knows what to do.
“There you are!” Aurora calls out when she sees the two of us. “Go wash up, and then we can eat.”
“Are the others back?” Alden asks as we approach the outdoor table.
“Any minute now,” Aurora says. Then her green eyes shift to me. “You too. Ten minutes in there and you’ve already got wood dust in your hair.” She laughs, and her eyes crinkle in the corners.
“What? I do?”
Poppy takes a step around the table, then reaches up, and I freeze as she brushes her hand over my hair, then across the shoulders of my cloak. “There. Much better.”
Maybe I should get covered in wood dust more often . . .
The fluffy white cat, Harrison, stands from the table and flicks his ears toward the forest lining the property, then meows, drawing Aurora’s attention.
“Perfect timing,” she says. “Everyone’s home.”