Chapter 10
I drift. Night falls. I lay in the bottom of the boat, using my pack as a pillow, and stare up at the stars.
The raven perches on the bow of the boat and bleats its rough caw.
“Stop laughing at me.”
The breeze ruffles its feathers but it doesn’t take wing.
Hours later, with dawn breaking across the sky, I’m jolted awake by the crunch of my wood boat’s hull on sand. Land! I sit up in a rush, but I’m knocked almost flat when a gnarled figure grabs the worn rope tied to the front and hauls me a foot up the bank.
“Hey!”
“Hay is for horses,” she snaps. “You’re the girl who sent me those shoes. What do you want?”
“Help.” I scramble to get out, but she gives another hard tug and I fall, hitting my knee. She’s strong for an old woman.
“I’ve helped you,” she says, dropping the rope. “We’re even.”
“I need more help. I’m looking for Kai. The Crown Prince of Montrace?”
The witch howls. Her long gray hair is matted and tinged faintly the color of seaweed. When she turns to me, her face is smooth-skinned but her eyes are ancient. She’s compelling, if not quite beautiful, in a terrifying way.
“Kai and his soldiers destroyed my orchard,” she declares indignantly. “Razed it to the ground. I owe that man nothing.”
She peers closely at me. “What do you want with him?”
“I want to save him from The Snow Queen.”
“Impossible, child.” She scoffs.
“How do I get him back?”
“You’d have to win at her game.” The witch hobbles away, beckoning for me to follow her. I take my pack and trail her into the hut. “No human wins against the fae witch.”
“Is that why I am the only person who remembers that she took him?”
“Yes. The fae love games, and she is no different. Immortal creatures grow bored as the centuries pass. To entertain herself, The Snow Queen selects a handsome man, one who is beloved far and wide. She likes it best when they have a lover. You have been honored, in a way. She sees you as a worthy opponent. You are part of her games, too.”
A scruffy orange cat hops up on the table beside me.
Idly, I scratch its head. The cottage smells of mildew and damp earth mixed with dried herbs, and more than a whiff of feline piss.
My nose wrinkles, but I can’t afford to insult this woman.
“The shard caught in Kai’s eye, is that a piece of the queen’s shattered mirror? ”
“I cannot believe it took you this long to figure that out.” She rummages around, banging pots and pans, searching for something. “It’s right there in the legend.”
“But everyone says it’s only a legend.”
“That is because humans have pathetic memories.” She snaps her fingers, and a startling puff of smoke bursts in the fireplace. It settles into a roaring fire. “Humans are so easy to toy with, aren’t they, my prince?”
The raven that had followed me down the river hops onto her shoulder. She strokes its chest, but the raven’s eyes remain locked on me. My mouth falls open.
“The Snow Queen isn’t the only collector of souls, is she?” the old woman cackles. The raven flies off to a perch. A black cat slinks around the base. “Here. Eat.”
The witch shoves a bowl at me. It smells and tastes fine, like an ordinary fish soup.
My belly gurgles. Suddenly ravenous, I spoon it into my mouth with abandon.
The River Witch looks on with great interest and a predatory gleam in her ancient eyes.
“That’s a good girl. My cooking is so tasty, you’ll never want to leave. ”
I stop with the spoon midway to my mouth, then set the bowl aside. “Thank you for your hospitality. Which way should I go to find Kai?”
“North, of course. You’ll need to venture into the frozen fae lands to reach him.”
“That’s so far,” I sigh. The witch nods sympathetically.
“Dangerous, too. The Northern Territories are infested with trolls and ogres, dangerous beasts like wolves and bears, and monsters made of snow. The only way to kill them is to melt them. Once they are unfrozen, The Snow Queen’s power to command them is broken.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I’ll bet you will.” She props her chin on folded hands. “Go on. Finish eating.”
I am hungry, but now I’m suspicious, too. Who is this woman? I thought the fae had been driven out of Montrace. She clearly isn’t fully human. I stir the soup, delaying. “What about the ice in his eye? Can that be melted, too?”
“No, silly. That’s glass, not ice. Glass doesn’t melt.” Her bemused exasperation brings a smile to my lips.
“It was a dumb question, now that I think about it.” Forgetting that I was suspicious, I spoon the soup into my mouth and moan at the delicious taste. “How does this keep getting better with each bite?”
The witch winks. “Magic, sweet, innocent Gwendolyn.”
Distantly in my mind, an alarm rings, for I never told her my name.
Days bleed into weeks. The river sings its constant song. Birds, deer, cats, and other creatures flit in and out of the clearing around the cottage.
I forget the castle.
I forget Nana.
I forget Kai.
I feel myself growing soft. Fading. I am no longer bothered by my scars.
They startle me whenever I look at my own hands or legs.
There are no mirrors in the River Witch’s cottage, for which I am grateful.
I don’t like being reminded of the calamity that befell me.
It’s easier to live adrift in an endless flow of time.
Until one day, when the raven flies in with a red rose clamped in its beak.
“Get out of here, you troublemaker!” the witch shouts, waving her arms at it, but the bird dodges around her and hops to my feet. I bend, noticing the way my nails have curved and become claw-like for the first time.
A thorn pierces my skin. Gasping, I stare at the bead of blood.
The witch’s illusion shatters. Bracing fury grips me. She tricked me. I never meant to stay. I wanted confirmation that Kai was alive and advice on where to find him. “How long have I been here?”
“A year or so.” She shrugs. “Almost two years, actually. Have some soup. It’ll make everything better.”
“Nana!” I gasp. Fury grips me. I stride into the cottage and start throwing things around. “You made me forget my grandmother. You made me forget Kai.”
“I’m a witch,” she shrugs. “I told you I collect souls. Did you think yours was safe just because you gave me a tarty pair of shoes?”
I find them, the red shoes I flung into the water, in a corner beneath a tattered blanket.
They look like they were soaked and left to rot; the once-vibrant color faded, the fabric shredded and the leather misshapen.
Beside them is my pack. It reeks of rot.
I empty it out and find the culprit: the rest of my cheese.
The bread is long past stale and covered in mold, which has spread to the extra clothes I brought for my journey.
“Argh!” I slam the pack against the wall. “You ruined what few supplies I had!”
“Your prince cut down my orchard.”
“So you say, but I’ve never seen an orchard.” She’s a liar.
“Because he cut it down, you twit.”
“You’ve taken your revenge on me. We’re even.
” It’s petty, but it feels good to throw the witch’s words from two years ago back in her face.
I march out into the yard. My dress is tattered and filthy, my hair unwashed and matted, my nails overgrown.
I must look and smell like a woman who has been living in the woods for months.
I have no footwear, no cloak, no food, no weapon, and no transportation.
Actually…
I peer into the reeds, hoping to glimpse the dinghy I arrived in. It’s gone.
The raven prince lands on a branch.
“Which way?” I ask him. Going by water might not be wise if I’m trying to escape the River Witch, anyway.
The bird flaps off into the woods. He’s difficult to follow, but soon I find a deer trail. We pass an empty clearing full of stumps. A single apple tree sprouts in the center, its branches dotted with tiny tight fruits not yet ripe enough to pick.
I guess she wasn’t lying about the orchard.
At the edge of the forest, the raven waits for me. He leads me to the main road. At the fork, he sits on the arrow marking a northward route.
“Thank you.” I stroke his feathered chest. “You reminded me of who I am with that rose. One day, I promise to break the spell on you, too.”
He caws. There’s sadness in his beady eyes. I trudge onward. The raven doesn’t follow.