“We managed to replicate the protection spell. That’s a big one.”
Beatrix raised both eyebrows. In their dozens of attempts to put a protective sheen on crabapples by focusing and asking for what they wanted, they’d managed it perhaps a fifth of the time. Just as often, the crabapples turned into a squished and pulpy mess. Every other time, nothing happened at all.
Ella made a face. “Fine, you’re right. I don’t understand why this method is so inconsistent. My grand plans of taking over the world by August may be a touch too optimistic.”
This time, Beatrix did smile in spite of herself. “I don’t know. The way you can levitate yourself two-and-a-half inches off the floor is quite impressive.”
“That might come in handy someday, and then won’t you be sorry for poking fun at my awesome talent.” Ella had assumed an officious voice—uncannily like Mrs. Price, the wealthiest woman in town—but ruined the effect by laughing. “And don’t forget the way I can make my blue dress appear to be purple. Mark my words, that is a skill the wizards will rue.”
Beatrix gave in and laughed, too. “Why were you even trying to make your dress change color?”
“I wanted to see if I could make myself look completely different. That was as far as I got.”
Beatrix let her head sink into her hands, half-snorting, half-groaning.
“I know you’re frustrated,” Ella said, patting her on the arm, “but it’s not important that knitting can’t do everything—it can dosomethings, and that’s amazing.”
“I can’t see it that way, you know. Because just that once, everything I tried worked. Even something that’s supposedly impossible—something there’s no spell for.” Beatrix searched for the words to properly communicate the feeling. “Ella, it was like—like opening a door and discovering there’s an entire world outside.Thatwas amazing.” She sighed. “I don’t know what we’re doing wrong. But the door’s closed, and I can’t figure out how to get it open again.”
“We’ll get there. We just need practice.”
Beatrix spent a moment trying to believe it. Then she said, “What if the door only opens when someone you love is in immediate danger of dying?”
“But the second time you had a breakthrough, you were at the omnimancer’s.” Ella caught her expression and said, “Oh, no. What? What haven’t you told me?”
So finally, belatedly, she explained. How she’d found Peter trapped against the wall of his basement, suffocating inside a spell gone wrong that he’d cast to protect himself against Garrett. How it was too late to save him by conventional means.
“Good God!” Ella collected herself and lowered her voice. “You do realize that if he’d died, you’d be free?”
Beatrix stared at her. “Please tell me you’re not suggesting I should have done nothing.”
“Well—”
“The only reason he was in that position is because Garrett was trying to scare him off from helping us!”
Ella put up her hands. “I concede, I concede. I was just pointing out that you were, by most definitions, acting against your own interests.”
“I wasn’t,” she said. “Even setting aside the moral considerations, we need him.”
“No,” Ella murmured, “you think we do because the Vows want you to think that. But we can handle our own problems. Especially when we get better at knitting, which wewill. I’m telling you, practice is the answer—when do we ever get an hour without interruption?”
Hardly ever. But she was thinking more about the first part of what Ella said.
“Not everything I say or do is influenced by the Vows,” she said. It sounded thin to her own ears, so she added, “Don’t forget Plan B. I’m not his automaton.”
Ella took her hand. “No! No, you’re not. What you’re going through, never knowing which of your thoughts and feelings are wholly yours—ninety-nine percent of people in that situation would just submit. But you’re fighting, and I’m so proud of you for that. You never stop fighting.”
Never, except every single night. What would Ella think of her if that ever came out?
The tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.
“Oh,” Ella said, a bit deer-in-the-headlights at what must have been an entirely unanticipated response. “Beatrix, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make it worse. I can—I can just imagine how hard this must be.”
Beatrix nodded, taking the easy way out.
“Whatever I can do to help,” Ella said, squeezing her hand, “I will.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, not looking her in the eye.
