I had lived with this weird, difficult version of magic foryears. She had known me all of three days, and she had the audacity to tellmewhat to try?
“You have no idea what you are talking about,” I seethed. The anger bubbled up, causing my heart to seize with fire. The fresh soil in the garden bed began to crack. I couldn’t grow shite, but I could certainly kill it.
Calm yourself, I repeated over and over, but it didn’t help at all.
“Clara, please don’t take offense to this, but I do know what I’m talking about. Your magic doesn’t work like any other garden magic I have ever seen.”
Because it isn’t mine, I wanted to scream at her. Throw it in her face. She didn’t, in fact, know everything. Unless she did. Unless she saw right through me.
“And how would you know? You said yourself, you can’t even keep a weed alive. Are you an expert on magic?” I meant to say it evenly. Instead, I yelled so loudly, the crows flew from their perches in the oak tree. One in particular remained high above, casting ominous shadows on the cottage.
“When you’ve been around as long as I have, you pick up on a few things, princess,” she said, not matching my volume. I wanted her to, I desperately wanted to brawl, to get this anger up and out. But she remained persistently unbothered—a constant reminder of why I chose to be alone. People like her undid me; there was no facade I could put on that she wouldn’t see right through. Everything I threw her way, she let fly, and I was left floundering for purchase. It made me irate; it made me everything I tried not to be.
“Don’t. Call. Me. Princess. And how long is that?” She wasn’t the only one who could ask a slew of questions.
“A while.” She smiled. I rolled my eyes, biting on my cheek.
But her words struck a chord in me, our earlier conversations slowly piecing themselves together. The first night she stayed here, she avoided answering who orwhatshe was. When Helda interrupted our lunch, Hespersmelledher magic. She traveled with Eldrene’s Forest Train, all of whom were centuries old at least. She always seemed shrouded in shadow, even in the blaring sun. And that tattoo of hers that she avoided speaking of—could they have all been intertwined?
“What are you?” I asked. At that, Hesper ceased her relentless inspection of the garden.
“I am many things, Clara Thorne.”
“Quit being mysterious.” I walked up to her, examining her just as closely as she had me these last few days. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I forgot why I’d come over to her. The world ebbed away, the anger in me settling down. Then she winked, and I remembered.
“Your tattoo then, you at least owe me an explanation for why you have it,” I pressed. There was no way I would let her leave this garden without answering at leastoneof my questions.
“Always looking at my arms, are you, princess?”
“Don’t change the subject.” I was getting used to Hesper’s keen ability to charm her way out of questions. “You owe me. You have asked me at least one million questions. So what’s it for?”
Hesper bit at her lip; her fingers fiddled with her wrist leathers.
“It’s a bargain, Clara,” she said, her tone attempting lightness, but there was weight in every word.
“What kind?” I asked. “Before, in Remi’s, you said ‘duties.’ What duties?”
She kicked at the dirt, and for the first time, I witnessed Hesper fumble for words. “I am—I am bound to Eldrene until her power is restored. My only reprieve from her Train is when there are quests she sends me on, but I must always return.”
“Why did you strike the bargain in the first place?”
“For reasons.” She shrugged.
My fingers itched to punch this woman in the face.
“Are you even human?” I asked, eyes narrowed.
“Depends on how you look at it.”
“Oh my Goddess, you are so vexing.” I looked up toward the Havens, inwardly cursing them for bestowing upon me an unruly fate and an even more unruly protector. “Tell me something, anything. Where are you from? Do you have family?”
Her eyes went dark, the perpetual openness snuffed out.
“You’ve dried your soil up, princess,” she said, pointing to the garden beds behind me. I blinked, having momentarily forgotten about them. But her words got through, and I looked to see the damage I’d done.
The damage she caused me to do.
My garden beds were sickly pale, every ounce of health leeched out of them.
