Page 90 of Untethering Dark

They’d had too little hope before, and too much now. One little demonstration and they trusted her with their lives. If she failed, and someone died...

She rubbed a hand across her forehead, but it was her stomach that ached.Verdammt, caring was hard.

Magical didn’t mean invincible or infallible. To those who didn’t have it, it seemed like anything and everything was possible, but she had limits and there were costs.

When she looked up, Johanna was staring at her. Though she wore a small, lopsided smile, her eyes were weary as she mouthed, “You okay?”

How hard would Johanna take it if she lost one of her colleagues? Would she blame Astrid for not keeping them all safe? Her stomach turned over at the thought that she might lose her friend to anger and resentment. If it meant Johannadidn’t waste her precious years mired in guilt, or lose her life, she could live with that price.

The ranger’s brow furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that? Stop it.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

With a roll of her eyes, Johanna took her by her elbow and drew her away from the others. When they were out of earshot, her friend hissed, “You’re looking at me like you’re going to lose me. Do you really think we’re that incapable of handling ourselves? I know you’re not the fondest of humans, and we might not have your power or your constitution, but we’re not weak.”

“It’s not your abilities I’m doubting, it’s mine.” But then again if she thought one was lacking, that implied the other was, too. She bit her lip before she could continue to put her foot in her mouth.

Arms folding, Johanna pinned her with a sharp look. “I love you, but snap out of it. That kind of thinking is what’s keeping me up at night, so I really, really don’t need you thinking it, too.”

Maybe Johanna wouldn’t blame her then if things went wrong. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Although, I do have to ask—just as an insurance policy—if something happens to me, will you—” she swiped a hand furiously over an eye, catching a tear before it even fell “—look out for Suri? Keep them safe?”

Astrid tilted her head, brow arching. “Now who’s being defeatist?”

“Halt den Mund.” Johanna shoved her roughly by the shoulder, but a small smile cracked across her face. “Just promise me, will you? It’ll make me feel better.”

“Fine. I promise. Although it’s Suri they’ll have to fear.” Astrid glanced over her shoulder. And sure enough, Suri was flying the drone again. Making it swoop and dive and cut sharp cornersaround trees, leaving no room for doubt about their skills, all while wicked glee shone in their eyes.

Such dark delight Astrid understood very well. Woe to the ones who incurred their wrath.

Without warning, Johanna pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, but before Astrid could do anything more than let out a surprised squeak, the forest ranger pulled away to rejoin the others.

Chapter Forty-Two

Twenty-nine years of training. And today, the final dose, and the final ritual that would make Astrid full Winter Hexe. A hag.

Nervous, giddy excitement thrummed beneath her skin, and that, coupled with the tingling, vibrating energy of her growing power, made it impossible to sit still.

The mountains, the snows were calling to her, whispering her name on the icy wind. This was what it meant to be in her element.

She walked to the ritual site in her bare feet, clad in only a thin slip of nightgown. The very one she imagined Gudariks tearing from her body. There’d be chance for that tonight if they wished it.

Astrid was attuning to the mountain snows in a way she hadn’t before, like they were a part of her as much as her eyes, her ears, her tongue, or her hands, just waiting for command. Her magic was becoming an extension of her, rather than a tactile thing she wielded. Was this how Mutter could remain in her bower and yet sense and know all? Because that’s what this felt like, as best as she could describe, a sixth sense sprouting anew.

With the snowy mountainscape before her and the wind at her back, piercing her skin in a thousand little needles, Astrid outstretched her arms and inhaled deep, letting the cold burn invigorate her.

Winter was more than death and darkness. It was a time for the world to go quiet, to rest and reset for the coming spring. For peace. And now, for Astrid, rebirth.

Shucking off her gown, Astrid crouched naked in the snow. There, she painted a ritual circle big enough for two upon the frozen canvas at the crest of a hill with a paste made from the blood of her body and the ash of a willow tree, the moon hanging large and round in the sky behind her. And on her skin, in an indigo paint made from woad extract, she marked her body with the ancient runes that would free her from the tethers of humanity.

This part, this quiet preparation, she did alone. Something about the act demanded contemplation and solitude. It wasn’t holy or unholy, sacred, or profane. It just wasn’t meant to be shared. But soon her lover would come, and they’d complete the ritual together.

Winter reached for her, from the icy soles of her feet to the tips of her nose and ears. It pulled at all the strings of warmth in her body, beckoning her to forsake the heat of day to become one with the cold night. She smiled and tilted back her head, arms outstretched, opening her body to the moonlit sky to soak in its beams, more than ready to answer this call.

Winter extended its hand to her, and she reached back.

Wind whipped around her as she stood, an invisible dance partner lifting her arms and twirling her. Its low whistling made sweet, reedy music. In the distance, a wolf howled, and the tree boughs creaked and groaned around her, joining in the forest’s rising symphony.

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