‘I apprenticed under a garden-witch in Whitebridge,’ he told her. ‘Just for a few years, but I learned a great deal. While witches here are one in a hundred, in Whitebridge, it’s easily double or triple that number. It’s a great place for learning, a true metropolitan hub, for witches come there from all over Fairendelle to apprentice and learn.’
‘You have your mother to learn from, don’t you?’ she asked.
‘Yes, of course, and my mother is very skilled, indeed,’ Xander said. ‘She studied in Whitebridge as well before coming back to work with my grandfather. She never continued her studies, but I’d like to.’
Bisma’s brows knit together. ‘Well, why don’t you? You obviously have the funds and the free time; you could do whatever you wanted.’ Such freedom seemed impossible to her. ‘What’s keeping you here?’
‘Ah, an excellent question.’ He smiled.
He took another step toward her, that same intensity returning to his glinting green eyes. Something about the way he was looking at her made her feel very uneven. Her pulse scattered.
‘Well, someone has to be your competition,’ he finally said, teasing.
‘Please.’ She exhaled shortly. ‘You’re not competition—you’re a nuisance.’
He laughed. ‘Thank you for the reminder of my inadequacy. In truth, I was away for so many years—I missed my parents, and, old as it is, Old Town is home. For now, I think I’ll stay.’
That sounded absurd to her. She would have jumped at the first opportunity to go to Whitebridge and study, to be as skilled and knowledgeable as the witches there. She would miss her sisters, yes, but once Luna turned eighteen, Bisma would have no chance but to leave the Forest, anyway. Of course, she did not say any of this to him, but it was as if he read her mind, for he gave her a conspiratorial smile.
‘Perhaps one day we’ll go to Whitebridge together,’ he said.
She rolled her eyes—that was never going to happen.
‘Didn’t you say you were in a rush?’ she asked.
He jolted, remembering, and the frenzied energy returned to him. ‘Ah, yes,’ he said, holding out the potion for her to take. ‘Here.’
She hesitated.
‘Come now!’ he said. ‘Take it just in case.’
‘I don’t—’
He tsked. ‘Must you argue about everything?’
‘I don’t argue!’
He gave her a pointed look. ‘Then prove me wrong and take the damn potion, Bis.’
‘Fine.’ She took it, slipping it into her basket. Begrudgingly, she added, ‘Thank you.’
His face lit up. ‘If I knew all it would take for you to be civil was to bring you gifts, I would have tried much sooner.’
‘The civility is a one-time thing,’ she informed him. ‘Don’t test your luck.’
‘Ah, but when it comes to you, I am always testing my luck.’
She covered her mouth so he wouldn’t see her smile, feeling more normal than she had in days. Giving him a wave goodbye, she entered the blacksmith’s, but she must have not done a good job hiding her smile, for when Mei saw Bisma, she began giggling again.
Bisma tried to give her a stern glance. ‘Come now, let’s hurry and get home.’
They paid for the cake pan, then skipped on home. At the treehouse, Bisma kissed everyone hello. Luna was watching Deeba as she folded laundry. Azalea and Nori were cooking; their home smelled like brown butter and sage, which would be spread over potatoes. Nori layered tomatoes onto a sheet of pastry for a galette.
As Mei went straight to the kitchen to put her new cake pan to use, Bisma went up to her room to set down her things and saw there was a letter on her bed. Catching her breath, she rushed to unfold it, but then hesitated as she recalled how she had spilled her guts after the ordeal with Luna. Embarrassment spread through her, but as she read, she realized there was nothing to be ashamed of.
Dearest Bisma,
I wish you would not speak of yourself in such a manner as you did in your last letter. It is not your fault, not in the slightest! You must not blame yourself, I beg you. If not for your own sake, then for mine: please be kind to yourself.
