Chapter 6
That night, moonlight filtered through the grime-covered window, cutting through the gossamer curtains that did nothing to shield the room from the slashes of light.
Serena lay in her bed staring at the window, listening to the faint wind around the house.
In the bed next to her, Maris slept with her back to her.
They hadn’t spoken again since she snapped at her.
She tried to apologize. But every time she tried, the words died on her tongue. Leaving behind ash and anguish.
And Papa. He was less than cordial through their evening meal. He kept the fire stoked and dozed by it in his favorite chair, his legs stretched out before him, a book open on his chest. She wanted to insist he go to bed, but she decided she’d done enough insisting for one day.
She rolled to her side, trying to close her eyes and sleep, replaying the events and regrets of the day.
And thinking about the stranger at the Well of Wishes.
Who was he? Did he have a name? Was his sole purpose to grant wishes and make bargains? What had he taken from her? Was it why she felt so…hollowed out? So lost? So alone?
Frustration edged through her. She shoved off the heavy quilt and slipped out of bed. Her bare feet hit the cold floor, sending a shiver up her shift. She cut a glance to her sister. She hadn’t moved. She continued to sleep.
Serena moved about the room, quick and quiet. She pulled on her woolen dress, stockings, and grabbed her cloak. She swept her boots off the floor, stealing another glance at her sister.
Good. She was sleeping. Her breathing was heavy.
She crept out of the room on silent feet, closing the door behind her with a soft snick. A quick glance around the cabin to see the fire was nothing more than embers and her father’s chair empty. He’d gone to bed.
At the door, she slipped on her boots and pulled the cloak tight around her thin frame. She picked up the lantern and opened the door.
The cold bit right through her well-worn cloak. But she ignored it as she closed the door behind her, then lit the lantern.
Her breath came in smoky plumes as her booted feet crunched on the newly fallen snow. And it was still snowing. Tiny flakes danced in the wind, fluttering down to the ground. By morning, it would be a thick blanket. She hoped to be back by then.
Every step she took was another step toward something dangerous. But she had to know.
The lantern swung at her side, spilling light across the snow to light her way. Houses were dark. Gray smoke curled from chimneys. She should be in bed, buried beneath her quilts, sleeping like the rest of the village. But instead, she needed answers.
And the stranger was going to give them to her.
The climb up the mountain was never easy.
Made even more difficult by the swirling snow.
The embankment was slick with mud as she made her way up.
But determination was stronger than turning back.
Her breath misted in the chill. The lantern splashed golden light over the bracken not yet coated with snow.
As she approached, worry gnawed through her. Worry that she might lose a piece of herself once again to the stranger at the Well of Wishes. Echoes of her last two visits haunted her.
Make your wish, he’d intoned.
And she had looked into his green-blue eyes. Eyes that peered back at her with a mixture of curiosity, bemusement, and, perhaps, even regret.
She shoved aside branches as she made her way. The closer she got to the well, the thicker the air seemed to be. Oppressive silence pressed all around her. There were no nocturnal sounds here. She hadn’t noticed that before.
As she crested the hill, she froze.
There, sitting on the edge of the well, was the stranger.
His ungloved hands were making symbols in the air.
Cool moonlight slashed through the treetops overhead, bathing in an ominous blue-white glow.
He pulled shafts of light toward him, spun them into threads, and flung them skyward where they burst into sparks.
It was beautiful—and terrifying. A reminder of what he was, and what he had already taken from her.
As though he were practicing.
Or bored.
He never looked at her as he spoke. “Most mortals come only once. Twice if they’re desperate. You must be very desperate, Serena Windriver.”
“You…” Her breath fogged in the cold, ragged and uneven, and she lost all thought, all nerve.
She should turn around and go back home. Leave this strange man with his golden threads of magic to himself. He dropped his hands and turned to her, a look of bemused resignation on his handsome features. The hood still draped his head, hiding most of his face.
“Come for another wish?” he asked.
“No,” she said, her voice terse.
He lifted a brow. “Curious. Then why are you—”
“You tricked me,” she interrupted, her fury rising.
A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips. “You made a bargain, dear girl. All bargains come with a price. Which you paid.”
A shudder went through her. “What did you take from me?”
“That I cannot tell you.”
“Why not?”
He remained silent as he peered at her from across the way. Nothing between them but thick emotion and thicker silence. Next to him, moonlight cast down into the well, illuminating the old moss-covered stones. Which seemed to shimmer.
“We struck a bargain. What’s done is done,” he said.
A half-formed memory floated through her mind. A crown of flowers. A woman’s face—gentle and kind—and then it was gone when she tried to grasp it.
“But I-I can’t remember.” Her breath hitched, pluming once again in front of her. “I should remember.”
“That’s the nature of the thing,” he said, his voice calm and even. “The Well takes what it will.”
She balled her free fist. “You mean you take what you will.”
The stranger’s expression flattened. His eyes turned dark and dangerous. No longer were they hinted with amusement. “Every bargain cuts me too. Do you think I chose this?”
“Didn’t you?”
He emitted a humorous laugh. “You know nothing about this,” he waved toward the well, “or me.”
Serena stepped a little closer, the lantern light catching his face. The air between them tightened, his expression carved from stone. His eyes hard and sharp. His jaw clenched tight.
“Do you stay here all night, all day, next to the Well, waiting for some pitiful mortal to come along and make a wish? So you can bargain away some precious piece of them—”
“I do as I am commanded,” he snarled.
The words cracked like a whip and she jerked, as if struck. She shrank back, her heart skittering in her chest.
“You would be wise to return home, Serena Windriver, and never return.”
Her name on his tongue struck a nerve deep within her. “You know my name but I do not know yours.”
He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “It is no longer mine to give.”
She sucked in a breath. “What does that mean?”
He turned away, reaching for his gloves on the side of the well and pulling them on. It occurred to her, then, that he did not seem affected by the cold. Nor did his breath plume when he spoke.
“A name is a lock, and the tongue that speaks it is the key.”
She blinked, unsure what that meant. “I don’t understand.”
He huffed in annoyance. “I do not stay here, mortal, of my own free will. I cannot leave this place. This Well is my cage, and every wish my chain.”
“You’re…bound here?”
“Bound. Cursed. Use whatever word suits you. Go home, Serena,” he said, again. There was a weariness in his tone, as though fatigue pounded through him with her demanding questions.
“No,” she replied, determination and defiance pressing through her. “I want answers. I need answers. Tell me—”
“There is nothing to tell,” he snapped. “Do you not understand? I pay, too.”
The words slammed into her. Her anger snagged on a sudden jolt of doubt. His tone indicated he was not interested in further argument. Fire flashed in his green-blue eyes. He clenched his jaw, the muscles ticking along the edge.
“I…wanted to know what I lost.”
Heat bloomed in her breast. A lump formed in her throat. Tears threatened. How could he be so cruel? How could he take what he wanted?
How could she let him?
“If you cannot name it, perhaps that’s the cruelest part of all. Do you truly want to know?”
She nodded. “Yes. Please!”
His eyes glinted in the glow of the lantern. “Then climb again. Wish again. And learn your fate. A fate that will unravel you, body, mind, and soul.”
She sucked in a breath. “But that will…ruin me.”
His jaw clenched. “No. You’ll ruin yourself.” He turned his back to her. “Now, go back to the village. Do not return here unless you wish to tempt your fate once more.”
The stranger, this wish giver, refused to look at her anymore. So she turned from him, clutching the lantern in her frozen hand as she started the long trek back home. Back down the mountain. Disappointment and frustration edged through her.
As she headed down the footpath, the snow came down harder, making it more and more difficult to walk. But she had to get home before the first light of day so as not to be missed.
The stranger’s words shook her to the core. Bound. Cursed. Use whatever word suits you.
In that, they were alike. She, too, felt trapped. Trapped in a world that was of her own making. A world in which she lost something that was once precious to her, that once meant something. And now it was gone. Forever.
I pay, too.
His words haunted her all the way home.