I can smell the magic on her—spicy, earthen. She is powerful indeed.
Katrine raises the lamp to my face, and I stiffen, knowing the illumination isn’t for me to see her; it’s for her to inspect me. I force myself to smile, though the heaviness in my heart can’t make it genuine. Now that we’re inside, Will begins to rattle off my better attributes.
“This is Runa. She’s of Helsingør, and I’ve seen her work spells that I didn’t even know were possible—”
The sound of the lamp slamming to the table cuts him off with a clatter. Without hesitation, Katrine grasps my upper arm and wheels me toward the open door. With strength that can’t all be human, she gives me one final shove.
“Get out!”
19
Runa
THE DOOR SLAMS SHUT AS MY BODY SMACKS THEground.
I shoot to my feet, as embarrassed as I am angry. Through the shutters, Will’s voice carries. “Katrine, why did you do that?”
Yes,why? I want to know. I nearly stomp away, but now I’m mad, and Will has seen too much.
I lunge for the door handle. My fingers immediately burn, and I snatch them away.
The witch spelled the door.
Well, I can spell it right back.
“Frijósa.”I spit at the door. Frost immediately piles on the knob, so cold it begins to smoke.
“Brjóta.”The knob shatters into ice pellets no larger than grains of sand.
“Styra mót minn rodd.”The door nearly swings off its hinges toward me. The room is exposed, the door wedged open by magic, and there’s no way they’re kicking me out again without answering my questions or hearing what I have to say.
I enter the cabin. Will and Katrine stand stunned still at the table.
“Villieldr.”This time, when my skin goes aflame, I limit it to my left arm. It crackles like a torch and I hold it aloft, dangerously near the dry sod wall. Everything in this place is flammable. Katrine’s eyes grow wide, and she gasps, her understanding of my threat clear.
“Promise me right now you won’t tell the guards I’ve been here, or I promiseyou, there won’t be a place left for them to find.” The words roll off my tongue, threats I never thought I’d utter—burning down this house is the last thing I’d want to do to survive—still, I don’t take them back.
“We won’t,” Will says. Hurt flashes through his eyes, and yet he’s calmer than I’d like. But I suppose he’s seen my fire before.
My attention shifts to Katrine. “I want to hear it from you.”
“Fine,” she says, chin held far too high. “Now, leave. We don’t need your kind here.”
I shift a brow. I’m not exactly sure what my kind isthese days: murderer, mermaid, failed sister, part human. There are many reasons to despise me.
“It was her sister who murdered him, not her,” Will says to Katrine, deciding that murderer is my most abhorrent title, though I can’t say why he believes my innocence.
“No,shedid it.”
Another voice.
My sturdy legs quake beneath me at the recognition of it. Heart lodged in my throat, I swing my arm wide toward the sound—coming from the shadows of the corner.
Sofie.
Still in her bloodied nightgown, a ratty blanket draped across her slim shoulders. The girl stands and steps into the light.
I wield my arm around the front room to make sure there’s no one else hiding in the shadows. Along the back wall there’s an entrance to another small room, but the door is flung open and it is empty. The shadows everywhere are clear, save for an orange tabby the size of a wild turkey.
