nine
Thenextday,Istood outside Seer Goddard’s hut at dawn. I was earlier than usual, so instead of approaching the door, I followed the rocky path farther beyond the hut, closer to the edge of the cliff where the water sparkled in the distance.
I turned away from the water, studying the rolling pastures, what used to be lush green hills just weeks ago. But what had been gleaming grass was now ashen earth, completely barren, spanning a long stretch across the northern edge of the island—all of it in ruins where it had been consumed by the curse.
I thought back to the small patch of grass I’d healed with Liza. There was no way I could heal this whole island in tiny bits like that; it would take me years—centuries—and even then, it would be a futile effort because I wouldn’t have any energy left over to do much else in the meantime.
I sank to my knees, despair washing over me as I truly contemplated how much of The Isle had been destroyed. I sat there for a moment, allowing myself to feel the rush of hopelessness, the crushing wave that I had let down a lot of people.
All my life, I had just wanted to belong. I wanted to find people who understood me for me. I’d finally found that place here on The Isle, and what’s more, I had the ability and the power to help make this place better, safer. As the Fae Queen, I could do real good here. My inability to protect this place felt like I was letting down my fellow islanders.
Finally, the waves of hopelessness faded away. The despair ran its course, and I steeled myself to focus on what I could control—doing better the next time.
For now, until I had better mastery of my powers, the only thing I could do to make a change for the better was to take baby steps. I knelt, put my hands on the ashen ground like I had yesterday. My fingertips dug into the soil. The grass crumbled beneath my touch. It felt like death, if death had a texture.
I might not know how to heal the land on a large scale, but I could keep going with one small patch at a time. Maybe I would get better as I worked at it, or maybe I’d get a better idea as I got stronger. All I knew was that little bits of good did add up in this world over time.
So I closed my eyes and focused on Liza’s words, that there was life in these dead lands after all. I kicked off my shoes and let my feet feel that crispy, brittle texture that turned to powder as I sank my bare soles into the earth.
It took several moments of deep breathing and focusing on the vibrations of the earth to locate them this time. They were hard to find, and even more difficult to pull toward the surface.
But I managed, and I plucked at those strings of life gently, like a beginner learning how to play the guitar. Uncertain at first, missing a few beats, definitely off-key. But as I sat and focused on the same sort of healing vibrations I’d used when weaving the magic to cure Irina of the curse, a warmth unlocked and began to flow through me. I held on to the connection as long as I could, until my arms felt shaky and my breathing became labored.
When I finally opened my eyes, I found myself sitting in a small circle of vibrant, healthy grass that hadn’t been there minutes before. I felt a presence behind me and scrambled to my feet.
“We’ll start today.”
I faced Seer Goddard with my bare feet and gauzy sundress, noting the dirt under my nails. As I swiped at my face, I realized too late I probably had streaks of mud across my cheeks.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t hear you approach.”
“Well, you’ve heard me now.”
Seer Goddard’s words told me he was willing to help, but his tone did not. His tone sounded like I was an annoying bug flitting around his head that wouldn’t leave him alone. But I wasn’t going to argue. I would take what I could get.
“Yes, I heard you,” I said quickly. “I’m ready to begin.”
I studied Seer Goddard, truly seeing him for the first time. He was a small, slight man, thin enough that I could see his collarbone protruding beneath the white robe he wore, a simple garment with a hood hanging unused down his back. His head was bald, his face lined but not ancient. I had no clue how old he was—he could be anywhere from thirty-five to ninety-five, or even a thousand years old.
Seer Goddard started walking toward the edge of the cliff, stepping out onto the last rock. I noted his feet were bare too, and as he perched on the uneven boulder, he was about half a millimeter away from falling to his death hundreds of yards below. One wayward gust of wind and he’d tip right off. I followed behind him, keeping a much safer distance.
The Seer glanced my way, a challenge in his eyes. He wanted me to join him.
“I don’t trust my balance,” I tried for a joke, but it didn’t land.
Probably because it wasn’t a joke; it was the truth. Ididn’twant to fall to my death. That would be the only thing worse than Seer Goddard not training me at all. Dying on the first day.
“It has nothing to do with balance.”
“Then what does it have to do with?”
“Mastering yourself. Composure. Maybe balance is a small part of it. But if you truly understand the dynamics of earth and air, as I suspect you do—or can—then balance should not be a problem.”
“But itisa problem for me because I don’t understand any of that yet. I was counting on you for some help in that department.”
Seer Goddard turned back to the sea, looking over the waters, contemplative. When he didn’t move or speak, I edged further out onto the boulder next to him, trying to show him that I was willing to compromise.
My boulder was flatter, wider, sturdier than his. I gave myself a few inches of leeway as I approached the edge. My stomach did a somersault as I looked down at the waters crashing against the rocks, white-tipped and angry. I quickly jerked my gaze upward.
