“Faelyn?” Her pale brows furrow in confusion.
“If I do not have the power to free you, we shall go together to find the person—old god who does.” I smile through the brief twinge of disappointment I feel at losing the first spirit I’m bound to. It is the right decision. I merely wish the circumstances were different. “I will not keep you and use your strength against your will. So, together we shall find the freedom you seek.”
“The journey will be long, and difficult, if it can be done at all,” she says softly.
“Then I will get supplies in the morning and we will ready ourselves to leave in the coming days.”
“You have no idea what this journey would entail.”
“I don’t need to.” I squeeze her fingers. “It is the right thing to do.”
“You…would truly free me?” Her eyes are shining. “Even though you hardly know me? Even though I can grant you immense power should you choose to take it?”
Immense power…no wonder the forest seemed to heed me more than it ever had before… “‘Immense power’ is worth little if taken by force. I only want what is freely offered, and won’t have it any other way.”
“Thank you, Faelyn.” She squeezes my fingers and brings her forehead to my knuckles, drawing a shuddering breath. I rest my other hand on her quivering shoulders.
“Do you need to eat?” I ask, shifting the topic for her. Aurora has endured a great deal already tonight; we don’t need to linger on subjects that give her turmoil.
She nods. “While I might be a spirit in essence, this form that I am trapped within is mortal enough that it requires sustenance to thrive.”
“Can this physical form be?—”
She doesn’t allow me to finish the question. Though it was a macabre one anyway.
“Killed? Yes. No,” she answers enigmatically. “My immortality as a spirit did not entirely leave me, even though I took this form. This body cannot be killed by natural means—aging, starvation, cold, illness. Though I still know the pain of those things.”
Something about the way she says those words, her bitter, tired, and grim expression that accompanies them, causes my heart to ache for all this woman has endured—all I barely understand.
“To kill me,” she continues grimly, as if forcing the words, “it would take intent by a mortal hand in a magical act. Hunger cannot kill me, but a charmed stake driven through my heart could.”
“Let’s not linger on driving anything through your heart.” I stand and cross back to my hutch, looking through the various baskets and jars, ready to leave the topic behind. I am going to keep her safe. “When I go to the market tomorrow, I will get enough supplies for both of us on the journey, then. I don’t have enough food here for two people.”
“I hope I will not be too much of an imposition.” She sounds genuinely guilty. Looks it, too, with the way she picks at her nails.
“No, no!” I say hastily. “Not in the slightest. It’s myhonorthat you’re here. But the last time I went to market I was shopping for only one person.” For the first time in my life, I shopped only for one. The memory sobers me. Of assessing how much less food I needed when it was only me to feed, even though Grandma ate like a bird those final months.You’re all right, Faelyn, I tell myself,the pain fades a little more each day. Eventually there will come a day where the mere passing thought of her doesn’t debilitate me.
Having the distraction—and a journey away from this place—might be just the balm I needed. Like always, the woods provided.
“Is there anything that you don’t eat? Or any foods you particularly enjoy, should I be able to find them?” It occurs to me that if she is the spirit of some kind of animal or plant, she might have strong feelings about certain foods.
Aurora shakes her head. “Any food is fine with me.” A pause, then, “Actually, were I to be honest, I would prefer vegetables over meat. And meat cooked well through, were we to eat it.”
“Vegetables are a preference we share.” I close the hutch with a smile. It will be easier to keep vegetables fresh on the road. Meat wouldn’t last long and I don’t have time to dry any. “Then we shall wake with the dawn to head to market.”
She doesn’t bother to even try to hide her cringe.
“What is it?”
A coy little smile slinks across her lips. “I am more of a night person than a daytime one. Dawn is when I might bed down and usually do not wake until dusk. Rarely, I’ll be up in the afternoon…depending on the season, weather, and my moods.”
I laugh. She has timeless eyes, but many mannerisms of a youthful woman. There was a time I, too, lamented early rising. “All right. I can go alone. And, before you can worry, know it’ll be no trouble.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure and my honor.” I cross the room to the loft ladder that’s on the far wall from her bed—the opposite side of Folost’s hearth. On the way, I grab a satchel off the wall, different from the leather one I took into the woods. “I sleep up in the loft, so if you need anything, you can shout and I’ll hear without trouble. There are wards on this house and I’ve confirmed them to be in place, so you’ll be safe.” My hand pauses on a middle rung. “Oh, one more thing…our other house guests are Folost and Mary. Mary is the marigold in the small pot on the kitchen window. Folost is in his hearth.
“I don’t know if you have a better way to communicate with them than I. But even if you don’t, Folost can take direction in the common tongue. If he chooses to listen,” I add with a pointed glare to the hearth. One golden eye swings my way and there’s a huff as a log collapses. I roll my eyes. “So if you’re too warm in the night, just let him know to relax a little.”
