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 forgetKai.”
“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.
Chapter 11
I acquirea bath by using a bucket of well water and stolen soap, cut my matted hair and trim my overgrown nails with a borrowed knife, and dress in clean pants and a shirt filched from laundry lines. They’re not quite dry when I put them on, but it’s such a relief to feel clean again that I don’t mind the dampness.
Boots prove to be a more difficult acquisition. I skirt the kingdom of Caldrithonia and dip into Aisendelle, walking barefoot or hitching rides from passing travelers, thankful for the changes to my appearance that let me pass for a boy. The further north I go, the colder it gets. I finally barter my stolen soap and a day of berry-picking for an old pair of half-boots two sizes too large.
I’m awed by the changing color of the autumn leaves all around me.
“Been through these parts before?” asks my companion, a grizzled old farmer with a chatty streak. I’d rather not talk, so I keep my answers clipped. After my encounter with the witch, I trust no one.
“Never.”
“You’re from Montrace?”
I nod. That’s as much information as I’ll give anyone about myself, though I’m desperate for any news of home. So far, I have learned from passing travelers that the queen is deliberating between different prospective suitors, but hasn’t yet remarried. But this could be months-old news. I’ve been gone for longer than I ever intended to be.
Poor Nana. I have to get back to her and make things right.
“You’re going to need better clothes if you’re headed north. ” The farmer eyes my loose-fitting outfit skeptically. I think he suspects I’m not really a male, but he’s decided to let it slide. No girl is safe traveling alone.
