A spell from one of these books had altered Caz from an ordinary houseplant to what he’d become. Other spells, more advanced than this one, had created the canals, shaped the mountains, and tamed the sea. But this was what she needed now.
“Are any of those shrubs outside elder bushes?” Kiela asked.
“Elderberry is a fast-growing deciduous shrub with little white flowers and dark berries,” Caz said. “And yes, I’ve seen several. Follow me.”
With Caz’s help, she identified and plucked the elder leaves from a bush in their garden, and then she dumped them in a bowl in the kitchen. Sunlight streamed between the vines over the window as she worked. First ingredient, done.
“Duckweed?” she asked.
“A fast-growing aquatic plant.”
Well, she knew where there was water. On a mission now, she led the way down the stone steps back to the cove. Walking out on the dock, straddling the broken slats, Kiela peered into the water beside the library boat. Gentle waves lapped at the posts of the dock. Shaded by trees that clung to the sides of the cove, the air was cooler, and it smelled of salt and seaweed, rather than flowers and honey. She loved both smells. She wondered what it would feel like to dip herself into the water . . . but she had a task to complete. She called to Caz, who was back on shore, “What does it look like?”
“Small, lentil-like beads of green that float just on or below the surface,” he recited from memory. “Usually found in still or slow-moving fresh water.”
Kiela raised her eyebrows. “Fresh water?”
“Oh. Yes. Sorry. I should have thought of that earlier. Back up the steps?”
“Back up the steps,” she agreed.
A hint of movement from within the water caught her eye.
Beneath the surface, a merbaby swam around the posts of the dock, weaving in and out as if it were a game. It was a little boy, with seaweed hair and a pale green fish tail laced with silver strands. He swam gracefully, the water curving around him, the sea grasses brushing his belly. Ripples flowed above him.
She hadn’t seen a merbaby in years, not since she was a child. They didn’t live in the canals of the capital city; too polluted. Waving at him, Kiela smiled. Bubbles rose through the water and then popped on the surface, sounding like giggles, as the baby waved back with his webbed hand and then flipped his tail fin and swam toward deeper waters.
A miracle,she thought.
Standing, she looked toward the jetty and saw a mermaid, half out of the water on one of the rocks, keeping watch. Kiela waved at her as well, and she thought she saw the mermaid smile before she ducked beneath the surface.
It was said if you weren’t welcome on an island, the merfolk would foul the water near your home and refuse to swim close to shore. The sighting of a merbaby . . . She knew it was only superstition that they predicted good fortune, but it made her feel as if her luck was turning.I’m doing the sensible thing. It’ll be all right. I’ll be careful.
“Let’s find that duckweed,” she said.
Climbing back up the steps, Kiela led the way, feeling full of energy and hope—and a sense that she was on the right track at last. She had memories of a quiet pool in the woods, where she’d retreat with her books, hiding from chores that needed to be done around the house. She remembered the sound of her parents after sunset, calling her to come home. The fireflies would flicker around her as it became too dark to read, but still she’d stay, to watch the fireflies over the water and listen to the birds and the squirrels settle in for the night and the night hunters, the owls and the cats, begin to wake. Once, she’d even glimpsed a unicorn sipping from the pond, but it could have been only a white deer and a trick of the twilight. Another afternoon, her father had come with her, avoiding his chores too. They’d read books side by side, and her mother hadn’t said a word when they’d returned. A week later, her mother had been the one to join her by the pond, arriving with lunch in a basket and presenting Kiela with a new unread book, a rare treasure on the island.
Kiela hadn’t thought about those memories in years. After her parents had died, it hurt too much to think about them. But now . . . to her surprise, it didn’t hurt. Or rather, it did, but it was a sweeter ache than it used to be.
She found the pond closer to the house than she’d remembered. Her memory had said it was deep within the woods, but it wasn’t. Only a stone’s throw.
Staring at it, she realized that she’d never truly hidden from her parents. They’d always known exactly where she was and how to find her. But they’d chosen to let her come here. They’d given her those afternoons of peace as a gift, joining her when they could.
“Kiela?” Caz said, interrupting her thoughts. “Duckweed.”
She blinked at the water and at the tiny, lentil-like plant floating over half the pond.
“Are you all right?” Caz asked.
“Somehow I didn’t expect this to feel quite so much like coming home.” She’d made the library her home and, after her parents’ death, hadn’t looked back. She hadn’t ever considered visiting Caltrey. She hadn’t missed it. But now . . . She suddenly found that she wanted to stay. She wanted to make this work.
Even if that meant taking risks that she previously never dreamed she’d take.Times have changed. The world has changed. I can change too.
Kneeling, she scooped up a handful of duckweed and slid it into her sack.
She knew where to find the rosebuds: on the bushes on the cliff above the village. Following the trail through the forest, she and Caz emerged into the sunlight. Everything looked just as picturesque as the day before, but this time, she found herself appreciating it more. She didn’t look on the village with trepidation. Instead she admired the bright colors of the houses and the blue beyond, dotted with boats.
From this distance and height, the village didn’t look run-down. You couldn’t see the too-thin children or the peeling paint or the storm damage. You saw a picture, framed by the sea. Kiela gathered the rosebuds while watching the merhorses frolicking by the shore. On the cliff, the breeze tasted like both the garden and the cove: honey-sweet mixed with salty-fresh.
