Chapter 9

ChapterNine

Months flew by as Thea learned to be the best green witch she could be. Her mother always pushed her a little harder. To taste more plants. To discover more about her magic and who she was. All that was fine and good, but Thea sometimes wished the time wouldn’t pass quite so quickly.

She got her letters from Alistair as the winds grew cold and the fields turned to gray. His letters were how she marked the time now, as silly as that might be. She waited until she heard from him to realize that another week had gone by.

And now they were almost two years away from having met each other for the first time. She felt as though she knew him quite well. He’d become part of her day-to-day life, especially since she kept all his letters in a box underneath her mattress. Thea had taken to reading them when she was upset.

But she didn’t really know him. She’d only seen him once, and without seeing him again, she feared the friendship between them would fall apart. They’d become strangers who were stuck in some obligatory cycle that had no end.

Sighing, she tucked her coat a little more firmly around her shoulders. She’d come with her mother to town, knowing that there was plenty for them to figure out before the snows came down from the sky.

Namely, they needed a better heat source. Her mother had hoped they could make a deal with the shopkeeper to give him a certain amount of grain, and in turn, they would get a new wood stove. Theirs had cracked down the cast iron back.

Along the way, her mother had bought her this new coat. The fur-lined collar tickled her chin and nose when she buried her face in the white mink fur; it was nicer than anything she’d ever owned.

“Wait here,” her mother said with a bright smile. “I’ll go talk with Herbert.”

Herbert had been the shopkeeper in Waterdown for as long as Thea had been alive. Probably longer. His prices were fair, even if he wasn’t easy to haggle with. He always made her mother pay more than what she wanted, but Máthair knew that going in.

“I’ll wait for you here!” Thea replied with a quick smile to ease her mother’s mind.

At least Máthair wouldn’t have to worry about Thea while she was in the shop. That much she could promise.

The cobblestone streets of Waterdown Square gleamed in the sunlight. Four people had earned the job of street sweepers, a rather sought after position considering it was so easy and they only had to do it once every other day. But they had outdone themselves today. The street lamps were a glistening gold and ready to be lit tonight, where their torchlight would merrily fill all the glass windows with beacons for shoppers to come back tomorrow.

Even where she stood, Thea could see countless items that piqued her interest. A florist with twenty pretty bouquets. The dressmaker with three gowns that could be worn to any function in Wildecliff and still be more beautiful than any made there. A spellcaster with items that would help keep your house clean, convince the fae to visit your abode, or even spell the entire house like theirs was.

The air was filled with the fresh scent of baked bread, and a clean linen scent as everyone came to wash their laundry in the well at the center of the town.

A few soap bubbles floated by her head, and she reached up to pop one of the iridescent circles.

As the bubble popped, she looked through the splatter of soap to a shop that she hadn’t noticed before. Probably because she did little writing before Alistair, but now she did often. Feathers decorated the interior of the shop, each one more lovely than the last.

She crossed the street, waving at a carriage that passed by before she stood in front of the window. There, a single raven feather had been carved into a golden tip for writing letters. The black of the feather was so dark it seemed almost blue and purple at the edges.

The owner of the shop had set it up to entice. The black feather quill laid on top of a bunch of handwritten letters, and she could just make out the lovely poetry that had been so painstakingly written by hand. It was... perfect. Everything about it was perfect.

Yule was coming soon, and she could use that as an excuse to give him a gift. Not that Alistair needed anything from her. He looked as though he came from a very well-to-do family, and a gift even like this wouldn’t impress him.

But she was thinking of him and wanted to get him a gift. His letters had meant so much to her these days and, well... he deserved it.

She glanced over her shoulder to see that her mother was still deep in arguments with Herbert. Máthair wouldn’t notice if Thea slipped into this shop. And she had a few coins of her own from helping a neighbor who hadn’t been sure what plants were in her herb garden. The woman had been terrified she’d poison her own daughter with the tea she made, and she’d paid Thea to help figure out and label all the plants.

She just hoped the coins would be enough to buy the lovely quill. The feather looked like it came from his familiar, after all.

A bell above the door chimed as she stepped into the shop. The lights were dim in this room; shadows lingered along her sides and deep into the hidden secrets of the store.

As she watched, a man emerged from those shadows. He had a drop of ink smeared on his chin, and his dark eyes wildly searched the store until he saw her standing in the doorway. He had jet black hair plastered to his skull, although she couldn’t be certain if that were the color of his hair or ink he had smeared into the locks.

“Good evening,” he said after clearing his throat.

“It’s morning,” she corrected.

“Ah. Well.” He blinked at her a few times with an owlish gaze before nodding. “Morning it is. What can I do for you, miss?”

She shouldn’t have disturbed him. It was quite early in the morning, but he seemed like he was awake at the very least. She pointed to the dark quill in the window. “How much is the black and gold quill?”

“Ah, that’s a very special quill.” He tucked his hands behind his back and approached the window. “I’m sure you know Dame ó Dubhghaill?”

Of course, she did. The Dame was one of the most powerful spellcasters in their town, and she was particularly known for giving inanimate objects the ability to do other things. Mostly stoves that cooked on their own. Tea kettles that boiled water on request. Thea had even heard of a few mops that cleaned the floor without the owner ever having to even ask.

“I know of her,” Thea replied, trying her best to be very polite. “I’ve never had the honor of meeting her, though. My mother and I live up on Briar Patch Farm.”

His eyes widened even further. “Your mother is Fenna?”

Why did so many men make that face when her mother’s name was brought up? She’d have to ask because this was getting ridiculous at this point. Her mother was the same as any other woman. And yet, some of these men treated her like she was a goddess herself.

Thea nodded. “She is.”

“Oh. Then your sister is Bell.. Belladonna.” He seemed to shake himself before realigning his hands. “That quill was spelled by Dame ó Dubhghaill so that any time the writer makes a mistake, the ink disappears. It’s quite the invention, if I do say so myself.”

“It is.” She thought back to all the ink blotches on her letters and how meticulously Alistair wrote every single word as he responded in his letters. Did he rewrite everything if he made a mistake? Every time?

This really was the perfect gift for him. And it was a gift he didn’t even know he needed.

Oh, but something like that was bound to be more expensive than she could afford. She reached into her pocket where she had placed the coins in case she wanted to buy something with her mother. Four silver coins, not much in the slightest. And a quill like that....

She bit her lip. “How much is that quill?”

“Oh, quite a bit. I couldn’t part with it for less than six golds, if I’m being honest.” Although, he gave her a sidelong glance. “Were you thinking of buying it?”

“Well there’s... There’s a boy, you see. We’ve been writing back and forth for a while now and Yule is coming up.” She tucked an unruly curl behind her ear and sighed. “I wanted to impress him, I suppose. I haven’t seen him in a very long time and I worry very much that he’ll forget about me. A letter isn’t the same as actually seeing someone. You know?”

The man seemed to hang on to every word she said. A single oily lock fell in front of his eyes, and he brushed it back. But not fast enough for her to see that it was ink in his hair. The strand had left a smear on his forehead.

“Young love?” he asked.

“Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. We’re friends, you see.” She thought, at least. “Friends.”

He hummed low under his breath before nodding. “For a daughter of Fenna and for young love, how much do you have?”

Thea drew the four silver coins out of her pocket and held them out in the palm of her hand. “Not much, sir. Not enough.”

The wince he made when he saw how little she had made her feel even worse. It wasn’t that she wanted to make him come this low on his price. He’d probably paid Dame ó Dubhghaill over four silvers just to enchant it.

Thea closed her fingers around the coins. “It’s not enough. I know. I’ll try to make more with odd jobs here and there and then come back?”

“It’s a popular item.” He blinked a few times in sadness. “I can’t promise it’ll be here long.”

“Of course not,” she whispered. But then Thea forced a bright smile onto her face. “It wasn’t likely I could afford it, anyway. I thought that he might like it. Thank you anyway. I do appreciate your time!”

The bell chimed behind her, and Thea found her mother standing behind her with a determined expression. She’d only seen that look from her mother a few times, and it always meant trouble. Or at the very least, that her mother had something on her mind.

“Fenna!” the man said. He shuffled his feet awkwardly before taking two large steps away from Thea. “Your daughter and I were just talking.”

“How much is it?” her mother asked.

That seemed to stump the man. He cleared his throat and croaked, “What?”

Thea stared as her mother looked down at her with a soft smile on her face. “How much is the quill she wanted to buy?”

“Six golds,” he managed. But then he stammered, “For you, I’d let it go for two.”

Thea swallowed hard as her mother bent down to whisper in her ear, “How much do you have, daughter?”

“Four silvers.”

Máthair held out her hand for the coins in Thea’s pocket, which she quickly deposited. And then, to her shock, her mother pulled out her own coin purse, which looked far too light. She counted out the rest of the six golds and then handed it all to the shopkeeper. “I won’t take any discount, Hugo. You know that.”

He nodded, but his lips quirked to the side as though he were unhappy about getting the full price. “I’ll go package it up for you, Fenna.”

As the man gathered up the quill and disappeared into the back, Thea stood frozen in shock. Had her mother really bought the quill for her? They didn’t have that kind of money. And she’d already bought Thea this jacket…

“Máthair,” she said quietly so she didn’t disturb the man behind the counter. “Can we afford this?”

Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her against her side. “I heard what you said, daughter of mine. A young man who deserves such high regard from my youngest daughter deserves a good Yule gift. And you’ll pay me back.”

She would. Thea would work harder than she ever had before to ensure that her mother got every single coin back. “I will. I promise. You’ll get all of it back by the end of the year.”

“I know.” Máthair squeezed her again. “Now, care to tell me who this boy is? I’ve never heard you talk about anyone with such...”

Apparently, the word even escaped her mother. But Thea knew how she sounded when she talked about Alistair. The sense of wonderment he shared with her bled into the tones of her voice. She adored him. And that was so strange to say about a young man she’d only met once before.

His letters spoke of a young man who struggled in life, however. He made few connections with people, and somehow, that made her feel special. She was one of the people he talked to. He gave her time and space in his life because he trusted her not to squander it.

Besides, she quite enjoyed reading about the world he described. Wildecliff sounded like a terrifying place to live, and the stark difference between his home and hers fascinated her.

Thea dropped her gaze to the toes of her brown boots. “Do you remember the boy at Ceridwen’s altar? The one who received the raven familiar at the same time as I got Browning?”

“How could I forget? Those Orbweaver men are always so ridiculously pompous...” Her mother paused, then touched a finger underneath Thea’s chin and tilted her head until their eyes met. Her voice hardened. “You’re talking to Balthazar Orbweaver’s son?”

“His name is Alistair. And he’s quite kind, Máthair.” Thea tried to pour all of that into her gaze. “He’s been writing me letters since we both got our familiars. He used his, the raven’s name is Atlas, to apologize for his family’s behavior. They sound awful, Máthair. And he’s so lonely.”

Her mother sighed. Her lips pinched together in a thin white line, but then something softened in her gaze. “Lonely, you say?”

“He doesn’t fit in with his family. He hates them, although I don’t know if he’d ever admit it. They’re so cruel to him, Máthair.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “He tells me all about it. I’ll show you the letters, if you want. Please don’t make me stop talking to him, though. He’s... He’s...”

“Kind?” her mother asked.

“Yes.”

“Thoughtful?”

“He remembered Browning likes crickets and sent me a bunch of them with his last letter that he’d gathered from the gardens at Sunspell Academy.” Thea took a deep breath and then forcefully added, “He’s my friend, Máthair. I like him.”

Her mother absorbed her words and then nodded. “I suppose there’s no reason for me to deny your contact with him. But be wary, Thea. Sometimes your heart is too big for your mind.”

The man who owned the shop interrupted them with a happy chirp. “All wrapped!”

Thea gathered her gift up from him and held it against her heart. She would be mindful of Alistair. Of course, she would.

But some part of her soul whispered that she didn’t have to be. He was careful with her, after all, like he thought she would disappear on a gust of wind.