3 Otto

3

Otto

Despite staying up late and celebrating in the aftermath of the mock battle with the guards, I'm wide awake. I had a pretty good nap in the middle of the day thanks to the spell pouches, and once I was revived, the feasting and drinking had turned raucous. Alois told me that none of them had ever gone down quite so hard as I had, but Brigitta told me privately that few of them had never gotten a speck of the red powder on her. Pretty sure the pride in her face at my taking her down will carry me through the next few days leading up to the actual trial.

I stare at the moon, almost hidden by the new leaves unfurling outside. I can't sleep, but I dare not move. Fritzi is curled against my body. Her hair splays out on the downy pillow, a halo of gold. I want to tangle my fingers in it, pull her to me. I want to claim her lips, her body. I want to wake her with my love.

But I also want to let her sleep.

Since the end of Advent, things have been peaceful for the most part. Dieter fell for my ploy, drinking a poison that stripped him of his magic and nearly killed him. He is one threat that has been dealt with.

But I know there are a million more.

Fritzi wants to open up the world to wild magic. Which will put her at odds with nearly every person, witch or not, in the world. She has to convince the magical council here at the Well that wild magic isn't an evil, sacrificial, corrupting influence and that they should trust her despite the fact that she's violated their laws and already cast off their restrictive version of magic.

And even if Dieter and the hexenj?gers of Trier are gone, it's not exactly as if the world will embrace witches, no matter what type of magic they use.

I don't know what the future will hold for her.

I only know that I have to keep her safe.

A low crescent moon hangs on the horizon. We're high enough up in the trees, in our safe and cozy home nestled among the branches, that I will see the sun rise before my sister, whose cottage is on the ground below. A gentle snow drifts down; the last stray flakes as spring awakens.

It's been months. I know Fritzi still mourns her brother, but she mourns a version of him that no longer existed, perhaps never did. Her memories of her brother are shadowed; how long did he wear a mask, pretending to be someone he wasn't, someone she could love?

What an utter fool Dieter was. He was malicious and calculating; he rose in the ranks of the hexenj?gers to Kommandant. He had the archbishop of Trier in his pocket. His cruelty was so extreme because of his genius. And yet—what a fool. To see Fritzi, to know her, and to toss away her love.

Hers is not a heart to toy with.

Soon, I shall prove that to her. The bonding ceremony has been used to threaten Fritzi multiple times. Once a witch drinks the bonding potion with someone, they are irrevocably linked, their powers intermingling. It requires absolute trust, something Fritzi did not share with the council when they tried to force her to commit a binding and sever the Well's magic with the world, and something she especially did not feel for Dieter, her brother, when he tried to use the spell to steal her magic.

But she trusts me. She loves me. And soon, we will magically bind our souls together.

Fritzi moans in her sleep, her hand clenching, releasing. Her eyelids flutter.

"Fritzi?" I'm not surprised she's waking; it's hard to sleep with such an important event happening so soon.

She shakes her head, still waking up. "Nightmare," she mumbles.

I reach for her, but she swings her legs over the side of the bed, the covers draped over her body. She's wearing her shift, and she grabs the robe from the hook by the door, shrugging it over her shoulders, her long blond hair still obscuring her face.

"Where are you going?" I ask, standing up.

"I have to do something." Her voice is raspy from disuse. She blinks at me. "I… It can't wait. I have to do it now." She bites her lip, nervous. "Library," she adds in a low voice.

"Is this about the council?" She and Liesel both have reason to be wary. Not only did the council try to coerce both girls into a binding; they have not been fully honest. Neither have the goddesses. Even with Fritzi being chosen by the goddess Holda as a champion, and that same goddess selecting me as Fritzi's warrior, we both know there are still secrets. Too many.

"It's important…" Her voice trails off.

She probably wants to keep the council out of this , I think, remembering that ass, Rochus.

"I understand," I say. They all have their secrets. We can have ours. "Can you tell me more about what you're looking for?"

Fritzi hesitates. Lets out a breath. Finally: "Do you trust me?"

"Always." The word bursts from me. Trusting her is one of the few things I'm certain of.

Fritzi shoots me a thankful smile and opens the door. I grab my cloak, squeeze my feet into boots, and follow her outside.

It's still early enough that no one else is around. Fritzi's been given a room close to the heart of the community, and while there are guards on the walkways and bridges connecting the trees, there are few here. I follow her, my muscles tensing.

Fritzi pads silently over a short bridge suspended high in the air, connecting to the council's inner sanctum. I cast a look behind me. The maze of bridges and landings built into the very trees of the Black Forest was once confusing to me. Now I can easily spot the school Liesel attends with other children, the homes of my friends, the quickest route that will take me to my sister's house.

Fritzi kept going without me. The door to the council room almost closes before I can slip in behind her. My stomach is tight, my senses alert. It's odd for her to act this way. It's clear she doesn't want to be seen by the others, but does she not want me to follow her either?

Everything is dark. Even the fires are cold, and I can see my breath in a cloud before me. The council room isn't used daily. There's a musty scent in the air, like damp earth and petrichor, a cold smell that I know the big hearth at the end of the hall would burn away if it were lit.

My footsteps echo, and I realize that Fritzi's feet are bare, despite the cold. I reach for her, intending to grab her arm and pull her to me, wrap my cloak around her shoulders, but she pivots suddenly, shifting in a way I didn't expect.

She opens a door I'd never noticed before. There's no light in this room—it's on the western side of the tree, beyond the sun's early rays, and there is neither fire nor torches. I stop by the door where a candle sits on an iron holder and use the tinderbox to spark a small flame.

Fritzi's already gone.

"Fritzi?" I say, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

I thrust the flickering candle out, sweeping back and forth, illuminating long rows of shelves. A library, the likes of which I'd never seen before. Even the archbishop back in Trier didn't have this many texts, scrolls and bound manuscripts and books and folios. A treasure trove of books, a wealth more precious than gold, all stored neatly on shelves.

I hear a noise to my left, and I whirl around, the flame on the wick smoking and sputtering. Smoke obscures my vision, and for a moment, all I see is a pair of eyes, pale and empty, unblinking. My heart lurches, but then I realize—

Fritzi stares up at me.

"Where did you go?" I whisper.

She tilts her head, and I notice another door on the far side of the library, closed.

"You must be freezing. Did you get what you need?"

She's silent for a long time. "Not yet," she finally whispers.

"Let's go back then?" It comes out as a question.

She nods, her hair sliding over her face. I reach out, tucking a lock of gold behind her ear.

"Is everything okay?" I ask softly. For a moment, her eyes seem darker than normal.

"Let's keep this our little secret," she says. She leans up and blows the candle out, the smoke swirling around us as she presses her lips to mine.