“The spirits do have their own minds,” I try to explain delicately, “and their roles to play in the world. We cannot always summon them on our mortal whims.”
Conri closes the distance between us, his boots splashing into the water. They make short-lived ripples, the water actively refusing to be disturbed. He ducks his chin and lowers his voice, speaking only to me. “I am the wolf king; everything in this world will bend to my will. And if it does not…then I will have to break it.” He leans away slightly, looking me dead in the eyes. “Do you understand, Faelyn?”
You included, is what he doesn’t say, but wants me to hear. I manage a nod.
“Now. Try again.” Conri steps back onto the rocky shore and out of the water that I am left to turn back to.
Never have I felt more alone than in this moment. Standing apart from the rest of them—completely unlike them. Having them all watch me like I am some kind of entertainment.
I take a steadying breath and roll my shoulders back. I am not alone. Back among them is Aurora—part of her magic is within me. In a way, right now, we are kin. Evander is there, waiting for me to come through for all of us. I can do this. Not for me, but for them. For the people who are going to be by me to the end.
“Volst,” I say with purpose. My voice seems to carry across the still water, ripples chasing after the sound. “I ask for you to come to me, merely for a moment.”
The words leave me and sink into the water. For a moment, I think I feel the slightest bit of magic brush against mine. A vague awareness that there is something else out there. But it’s gone. He’s too weak.
“Well,” Conri says after a minute that feels like an hour. “I see that your expedition was a failure.” I turn, looking back at him in shock. Even if it’s only ever been for appearances, he’s never spoke to me in such a tone in front of the others. Conri smiles. It’s smug. He’s gleeful at my shortcoming. I’ve little doubt it will be used as yet another reason to kill me. “Don’t worry, though, my queen. Not all can be as powerful as me.”
“She’s probably exhausted.” They’re the first words Aurora has said and the glare that Conri immediately shoots her tells me the reason behind her silence. But she steps forward, away from Evander and toward me. “You sent her out and she not only found spirits, communed with them, learned their name, but had to defend herself, so the spirit is probably exhausted, too. She’s been apart from me for too long and so our connection has wavered some, making all this harder.”
Conri’s glare does little to stop Aurora as she approaches me. She stops right at the water’s edge. Her gaze drifts out across the surface and a frown that I think belongs to something more than Conri and the lykin tugs on the corners of her lips.
“This is a hard place he’s brought you to,” she whispers hastily as we meet at the water’s edge. “This is a scar of great magic from long ago; it will be difficult for any spirit to come to you here, even if you and the spirit were at your best.”
“What do I do?” I try to keep my face hidden behind Aurora as I ask so Conri can’t see.
She leans forward and rests her cheek against mine, whispering in my ear. “I’m going to help you. Use my power—give it to Volst. Then I’ll need you to help me recover after.”
“What do I do?” I ask again, moving my lips as little as possible.
“Just being near me will help me recover from my magic within you.”
She shifts and, with a press of her forehead into mine, a surge of magic flows through me. Aurora leans away, looking instantly exhausted. Her usual pallor has taken a worrying gray hue. Even the shine of her hair seems to have lost some of its luster.
“Auro—”
“There, now she should have the strength.” She won’t let me finish my worry. She steps back and turns to Conri. I wonder if the wolf king can see the immediate decline in her. If he can, I suspect it will only make him yet more inclined to kill me. Conri will see me as a leech to her power. I’m not doing a great job of giving him reasons to keep me alive.
“Well, then.” Conri motions for me to make haste with a gesture of his open palm toward the water.
I force my expression to stay passive. Though, when I turn back to the lake, I can drop the mask. Disgust twists my stomach and my lips.
Kneeling, I submerge myself nearly to my breasts. I’ve grown accustomed to the chill and am no longer fighting shivers. Perhaps I have just been given enough motivation to steel myself.
I reach into my satchel and pull out a length of gray—nearly blue—line of thread. It’s already soaked, but the tools of a witch’s trade are no strangers to nature. If anything, they are further empowered the more patches of earth they fall into, the more grasses that stain them, and the more waters they soak up. They will draw from the power of my experience, and from the living spirits that live in everything.
With a firm knot, I tie the cord into a loop and rest it upon the surface of the water. Be it from my magic, or the powers in this lake, it floats in a nearly perfect circle. I cup my hands and lift, catching the circle on the upper rim of my palms. The thread rests along my pointer fingers, thumbs, and heels of my hands.
Purify, I think, pushing my powers into the thread. As pure as water cleansed by moonlight. The water bubbles and hisses, spilling over the sides of my hands. The power that the lake has been steeped into drips away with heavy plops, leaving nothing but plain water behind.
I just hope it is enough.
“Volst,” I whisper into the tiny surface gathered in my palms. “I thank you for your help so far. Now, Aurora needs you. This is for her, not me. Leverage her power within me, if you must, with her blessing as well. But come to me here and now, if only for a second.”
The water goes perfectly still. Then, it feels as if I am holding a pool of lead. My muscles strain with the weight of the spirit that I know has taken residence between my hands.
Forcing myself to stand, I turn, lock eyes with Conri, and say, “Behold, the might of the spirit of water.”
The water lifts above my hands, hovering in the air, to the amazement of those gathered. There are gasps and wide eyes all around. Even Conri’s scowl softens to something that I’d dare say could be wonder as the water takes the shape of a reversed raindrop, arms and head extending out from it.
