“This is your task. Figure it out. Our studies are paused until you can do this.”
Nasera stood and left.
“She means well,” Risna said, offering her a bowl of warm venison stew. “We don’t mind teaching you, but I am inclined to agree.” The older witch offered her an apologetic smile and departed to the other side of the shop, leaving her alone.
Elizabeth stared at the chain.
The angel was wrong.
Once she finished her bowl of stew, she swirled her tea and stared off. She stared at the crystals that peeked out at her from different parts of the shop, and at the bundles of eucalyptus leaves, sage, and mint that hung on the walls.
What was she even doing here?
Perhaps she should return to Rhodea and work in the slums of Calyx as a common labourer. Her court friends could laugh at her rough hands and sun-tanned skin. A glamorous end for the daughter born to the Ashcroft line, who threw it all away for nothing.
Allowing herself a moment to wallow, she cupped the mug of tea forlornly like it was a teddy bear, some comfort to cling to. Elizabeth stared at the rusty shackles, her thoughts drifting. Why did Risna and Nasera had handfuls of rusty shackles in their possession?
She grimaced. Witches. Of course, they had to rescue loved ones and friends who had been captured and teach their young how to avoid such a fate.
The rust had wreaked havoc on the iron, dappling the blue-black surface with copper. Then she noticed the rust patterns on the iron—nearly eaten through in one place. Elizabeth yanked the manacle with her bare fingers but was unable to break it.
The clock tower outside chimed loudly. Her eyes flicked to the window, and she counted the chimes. On the sixth chime, an idea struck her.
She ran to the other side of the shop, where Risna was measuring out dried herbs on a set of brass scales and adding them to a pewter cauldron. An herby, pungent smell filled the air, and, peeking into the cauldron, she saw a green mulch forming at the bottom.
“A healing poultice to keep injuries from getting infected,” Risna explained, noticing her interest.
“Risna … what’s the word in the Godstongue for time?”
“Tídth,” Risna said, glancing at her before returning her attention to her cauldron. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Thank you.”
Running back to her seat, Elizabeth held the rusted shackles and took a deep breath. Perhaps she was not strong enough to manifest fire or break iron. But she could be smart.
Locating the spot that was already nearly rusted through, Elizabeth drew up her green fire and spooled it into the manacle.
Instead of imagining the shackle being cut in half, she pictured the chains that she had seen near ships, whole one summer, and rusted the next. The kind of rusting that spread like poison through the iron until the chains and anchors became delicate and needed to be replaced.
“Tídth.”
Rust bloomed across the manacle, thickening, spreading until the entire manacle became covered in orange rust. She pushed more magic into it. The metal warped, cracked, and finally broke.
Elated, Elizabeth released the spell.
Shocked at her own ingenuity, she wasn’t nearly as tired when she used the other spells. It seemed her magic didn’t mind altering the world as it was, rather than creating flame or darkness from nothing.
Pleased, Elizabeth strode to the door connecting the living quarters to the shop and knocked loudly, too glee-ridden to bother with politeness, and opened the door.
Elizabeth climbed the stairs to the living quarters upstairs and dropped the broken shackles onto Nasera’s desk, rust scattering across the wood and onto the floor.
Nasera looked at the shackles and pulled one up to her eye to inspect. Carefully, she spent a long moment looking at what was in front of her, running a finger over the edges, now rough and jagged. “You rusted it through with magic?”
Elizabeth nodded once.
Nasera was quiet, surveying the broken and rusted shackles. Finally, she looked up with a frank expression.
To her surprise, Nasera’s usually solemn face split into a rare smile. “Welcome to the Veridas coven, Elizabeth, witch who is not a witch.”
