Chapter 7
Seven
Oaklin stared down at the two books in their hands.
They may as well have been holding a live viper. There had to be a way to convince Lior, to believably deny it. What possible explanation could they have for needing these magical books that didn’t reveal their own magic?
Lior stood by in silence, clearly curious but waiting for Oaklin’s reaction.
Oaklin shot a glare at the ghost, who must have been responsible for the note that brought Lior out to the farm.
The ghost shrugged. Oaklin couldn’t see her face, it being made of pure blackest shadow as always, but the smugness was as thick as the magic in the air.
Think, think, think! What do I do?
Oaklin racked their brain for options. Gloss over it? Invent a cover story?
Why not both?
“Oh, thanks!” they said, proud of how stable their voice sounded. “I had no idea the library did delivery service. I really appreciate it. I love to read about all kinds of random things, and someone recommended these. Just…love a good book, you know?”
Clearly nailing it.
“Hey, always happy to help with book emergencies,” Lior said with a guileless smile. “And let’s be real—happy for any excuse to get away from Sister Talla. You can request as many deliveries as you like!”
The smile fell away and she leaned in closer. “No, really. Please. As many deliveries as you like.”
Oaklin laughed, sounding almost normal. It wasn’t going too badly. Maybe they could still smooth things over? Make a joke! Everything is totally fine!
“Well, I’m so glad you consider me better company than the person you clearly loathe,” they said, casually sliding the books into their harvest basket and changing the subject. “I wish I had something to offer you hospitality-wise, but I’m afraid this field full of half-grown lettuce is about it.”
They gestured to the neatly mounded rows of soil around them, dotted with all manner of lettuces and greens in various stages of growth.
Smooth, boat-leafed romaine types, butterheads and lobed oakleaf varieties, and frilled, incised fluffy heads, all just starting to display their glorious differences.
“Actually, there is something you could offer!” Lior said. “I come bearing an invitation. Every week, after the farmer’s market, Ryn and I go watch Jules perform at the tavern, then the three of us have drinks together. We want you to join us!”
Oaklin blinked, throat suddenly thick with emotion. Did they have…friends, now? Already? The kindness of the invitation was nearly overwhelming, and they paused to look across the field at the distant forest tree line, the lean pine boughs performing a placid dance on the breeze.
“I’d love to, but my coin purse is feeling a bit light these days and…” Oaklin said eventually, trailing off.
Lior cocked her head and studied Oaklin. “Are you planning to sell at the market this week?”
“Well, yes, but I won’t have much,” they admitted.
“No worries, then!” Lior said, expression brightening. “If you make enough at the market, you can pay your own way. If not, I’ve got you covered. Assuming you want to come, that is—no pressure.”
Oaklin winced. “I really want to, but…”
“I insist! Consider it a welcome gift,” Lior said.
She seemed entirely sincere, no lying tells, no traps, just a hopeful look on her face.
The warm spring sunshine glinted on her copper hair and illuminated her dusting of freckles, as if nature itself were trying to sway Oaklin’s decision. They shrugged with a helpless smile.
“Well, if you insist…”
“Yes!” Lior clapped her hands in excitement. “I’ll let Ryn and Jules know. They’ll both be glad to hear it.”
She gave Oaklin a dazzling smile that caught them off guard for a moment. Somewhere beneath all their pent-up fear and uncertainty, a tiny ember flickered to life.
Oh no.
Lior was a paladin of the Three Above. But…a very pretty paladin with a nice smile who, frankly, looked strong enough to carry Oaklin all the way back to the house. And wasn’t that an image?
Lior’s smile widened as if she could read Oaklin’s mind, and she tucked her hands behind her head in a casual stretch.
Those arms were going to be a problem.
“Anyway, I should let you get back to your lettuce. I’m sure you have a lot to do before the market. But I’ll see you at the tavern?” Lior asked, hopeful.
Oaklin was too busy following the motion of Lior’s stretch to realize they should be speaking. “Oh! Yep! Uh…yeah. See you then.”
Lior laughed and began the walk back across the field, carefully picking her way between rows of new sprouts and leaving a blushing, confused Oaklin in her wake.
They watched as Daffodil left her post near the grazing livestock and trotted over to beg Lior for a quick pet, who of course obliged with a hearty belly rub.
She shot Oaklin a quick grin over her shoulder, then stood with clear reluctance, continuing on her way.
Daffodil ambled over to Oaklin and promptly rolled over, her quota of belly rubs still unmet.
Oaklin threaded their fingers through her dusty fur and scratched her broad chest as they watched Lior go.
“So, are you done flirting and mooning? Can we get back to lessons now?” the ghost asked.
“What?” Oaklin yelped. “I wasn’t flirting. I…I was—”
“Well, you should be. Lior is quite the catch, you know. Real decent human being.”
That brought Oaklin up short. “You knew Lior?”
“Please, dear, I knew everyone in this village,” the ghost said, crossing her arms. “Lived here longer than most of ’em too. So when I say Lior is good people, you should trust my word.”
“But the Order of the Three…”
“Is a massive and powerful organization, and Lior is a person. Don’t confuse them.”
Oaklin scowled. “What, am I supposed to take dating advice from a ghost now?”
The ghost shrugged. “Take it or leave it. It’s none of my concern. Are you ready to forage or what?”
Oaklin picked up their harvest basket with a sigh, eyeing the arcane sigils decorating the covers of the books Lior brought.
If Lior knew about Oaklin’s magic, she’d at least done them the courtesy of pretending otherwise.
No thanks to the ghost—Oaklin’s daily Ghost Granny limit was fast approaching.
They needed those foraged goods for the market, though—for money to spend at the tavern with their new friends—so they swallowed their pride and nodded.
“Lead the way, I guess,” they said.
Granny turned and walked toward the edge of the woods. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”
***
Out past the fields, the scattered trees quickly turned to thick forest. All around Oaklin, trees were budding and flowering, filling the air with the scent of spring and the ground with a litter of rainbow petals. The ghost led them deeper and deeper into the woods, lecturing all the while.
“There’s more to stewarding the land than planting crops and caring for domesticated livestock,” she said, reaching out to let her incorporeal fingers pass through leaves and branches. “You should get to know every plant that grows here, not just the ones you seed in your fields.”
“You mean the edible plants in the forest? Or the ones people use to make medicine?” Oaklin asked, taking in the sheer number of mosses, vines, herbs, flowers, shrubs, and more, intertwined in the forest ecosystem.
Granny clicked her tongue in disapproval.
“All of them, Oaklin, not just the ones you can use,” she said in a scolding tone.
“They all have a role to play, and if you’re going to be taking from the forest, then you need to give back as well.
That might mean helping to spread seeds, or watching for signs of disease or infestation on favored host plants.
Arrington’s Magical Herbs and Forage will help you with some of that knowledge, and time will do the rest. But first, I’ll give you a few key rules. Ah, here we are.”
Oaklin crossed over a narrow, free-flowing stream into an altogether different area of the forest, where an unexpected little wooden bench sat in a small clearing.
The entire atmosphere seemed to shift: The babble of the stream was almost melodic, songlike; the carpet of creeping ground cover flowered in a vivid rainbow of colors; the whisper of the wind through bough and leaf felt almost alive, and it had a sort of flavor, like fresh mint, or the first crisp cucumber of the season.
The trees, the bird calls, the hum of the insects…
every bit of life in these woods was just a little bit different. Just a little bit…
Oaklin’s heart slammed against their rib cage, the ambient magic of the forest slick and acrid on their tongue.
More than Ryn’s baking.
More than Lior’s healing spells.
More than the threads of magic in Jules’s melodies.
This area of the forest seemed woven of magic itself, and Oaklin’s mind filled with a piercing screech of panic.
“Wait.”
With a start, Oaklin realized that their feet were already carrying them back toward the creek, ready to flee toward home. The sharp command halted them in their tracks. Granny’s voice gentled.
“From now on, every time you sense magic I want you to do this,” she said. “Pause. Press both hands over your heart. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Then say out loud: ‘I am safe.’”
Oaklin shook their head over and over, the panic writhing in their chest like an unruly animal desperate to break free. And so, the truth of it finally came out:
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Oaklin gasped, shaking. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Please, don’t let me hurt anyone. I was… I used to be… When the Enchantrix—”
“Do it right now,” Granny said in a firm voice that brooked no argument. “Pause. Press. Breathe. Speak.”
The instructions didn’t penetrate at first. Then, the reedy, thin call of a songbird overhead broke through, letting the words follow.
Oaklin did as they were told. Feet planted firmly on the soft, mossy forest floor. Both hands pressed tightly over their heart. Breathe in…breathe out…