Bryn pressed a relieved hand to her chest. She couldn’t imagine the grief Rangar would endure if he was absent when his father passed.
Quietly, the mage handed Bryn the package. “It’s time, Bryn.”
Confused, Bryn unfolded a bundle, which turned out to be linen mage robes much like the ones she’d worn before, though these had a red thread sewn into the collar and sleeves: the mark of an apprentice.
Bryn had seen these exact robes before. They were Calista’s.
She sucked in a breath.
Mage Marna bears the reminder of someone’s death after all . . .
Though Bryn mourned Calista, the gravity of what she was holding wasn’t lost on her. Thrill mixed with her feelings of melancholy and uncertainty. Before she could ask Mage Marna for clarification, the mage said curtly, “The forest. Ten minutes. The hollow oak stump.”
The mage turned sharply, taking the candlelight with her, leaving Bryn with a dead woman’s clothes—and a chance for magic.
Chapter 12
A COLD INITIATION . . . a hollowed-up stump . . . flame too small . . . keep yourself alive . . . word from Rangar
Bryn knew the hollowed-out oak stump Mage Marna spoke of: it was a quarter-mile inland, near the path to the high pastures. When she’d worked as a shepherdess, she’d let the lambs stop there to drink from its collected rainwater. She’d always wondered at the small charms nailed into the old stump: wooden stick figures, bits of yarn, buttons. The place had always whispered of magic.
Mage Marna was waiting for her when she arrived, breathless after having jogged through the snow to get there in time. In contrast, the mage wasn’t out of breath at all, even at her advanced age.
“Take that cloak off,” were the stern words Bryn was greeted with. “And your boots.”
Bryn hesitated. Calista’s robes were made of thin linen, so she’d grabbed a cloak on her way out of the castle. She wanted to point out that Mage Marna herself wore a heavy cloak against the cold, but held her tongue.
This is a test. Training has already begun.
She toed off her boots and hung her cloak on a nearby branch. Shivering, she returned to the stump. The hollowed basin was crusted with ice. Bryn curled her toes in the snow, trying not to squeal from the cold. How long could she go before getting frostbite?
“As apprentice, you will address me as ‘lady mage.’ I’ll warn you that this is a significant commitment. You’ll reach the point of exhaustion physically, mentally, and spiritually. It will take time away from your relationship with Rangar. Did he grant you permission to apprentice?”
“He supports my endeavors,” Bryn said evenly. “But I don’t need his permission. My life is my own.”
“Good.”
An owl hooted somewhere overhead. With faint moonlight filtering through the trees along with the snow, the forest took on a strange feel, almost as though they’d stepped out of time. Shivering, Bryn clutched her arms tighter.
Mage Marna laid a hand on the edge of the giant stump. “Break the ice.”
“Yes, lady mage.”
Bryn’s bare feet crunched through the snow as she made her way to the edge of the stump. She looked around for a branch, but Mage Marna clarified, “With your bare hands.”
Bryn silenced an objection. Was that even possible? She pounded her fist against the thick ice. It took three times and a bruised hand before the ice finally cracked, and frigid, dark water soaked her robe’s sleeves. Her feet were losing feeling—she couldn’t last much longer standing barefoot in the snow without getting permanent damage.
“Now, climb into the water,” Mage Marna commanded.
Bryn gaped at her openly. Soaking in freezing water would result in almost instant hypothermia. Was this another test, this one meant to show how far Bryn would blindly follow Mage Marna’s commands? Or to see if she had enough sense to defend herself against what could only be considered a death order?
Mage Marna watched expressionless, and Bryn took a deep breath.
Trust in magic.
Wincing, she climbed into the stump before she lost her nerve. The ice water pool was about the size of a small bathtub, deep enough to submerge her entire body. Her skin screamed at the shock of cold. Her eyes shot open as a cry rose to her lips, but she swallowed it down. Clenching her jaw, she focused on her breathing.
Breathe.
