Page 401 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 13

They hadn't been on the road for three days when Rossa noticed the first flakes of white on her horse's mane. "Mother, it's snowing," she said in wonder, holding out her hand to catch some.

Mother frowned. "It's far too early for snow. We must ride faster, to get there before the pass closes."

Reluctantly, Rossa put her glove back on and urged her mare to pick up the pace.

It was still snowing when they stopped for the night, settling in white drifts anywhere that was open to the sky. Mother found a clear spot under some trees to pitch their tent, and Rossa set to work. Everything was fine until she backed into a tree branch that dumped a load of snow on her.

Rossa swore, then bit her lip and cast a shield, pushing it out a few yards to encompass the tent, her mother and the fire her mother was attempting to light. "Stay," she told it.

And it did, like a big, invisible, dome-shaped tent that kept the snow out. It slid down the sides, instead, until it formed a wall high enough for Mother to notice.

"Did you do that?" she asked, wiping a sooty hand across her brow. The firepit remained ominously dark.

Rossa nodded. "I can light the fire for you, too, if you like. Just…don't tell Father."

Mother rose clumsily from her crouch. "And why in heaven's name would I not?"

Rossa ducked her head. "Because he doesn't think magic should be used for mundane things. Cookfires and pitching tents and things that most people do without magic. He says…"

"Your father says a lot of things. And while I admit he knows more about magic than me, given both his mother and sister were enchantresses like you, I've seen him use magic for plenty of mundane things. In fact, every fire he's ever lit while travelling uses a magic candle that his mother gave him when he was a boy. A candle he keeps in his magic travelling bag, with all manner of other things." Mother sighed. "Perhaps he means that you should not take your magic for granted, to use such power without thinking about it first. To consider whether to use magic, or to stay your hand. My friend Tola, Swanhild's mother, always thought twice before using magic, because her husband used to beat her if he caught her casting a spell. Even after he died, she'd hesitate. She still warded her shop, though, and she used her magic to save Swanhild, though it cost her own life, in the end." She wiped away tears. "Oh, look at me, crying over the dead, though it's been nigh on twenty years since I last saw her. More, maybe, as it was before you were born. The last thing we talked about was your father, and how she thought I should…give him a chance."

If she was anything like Swanhild, Tola had probably said something far more crude than that. But she'd been Mother's friend, and Mother still mourned her, so Rossa kept her thoughts to herself.

"Your father slept in the tower room, and then Raphael did, when Zoticus moved into my chambers. I thought you might like the tower for yourself, this time. I sent word up to the castle to have rooms prepared for us, so it should be ready for you. But if you don't like it, I'm sure we can move your things somewhere else," Mother said.

Rossa remembered the tower room, and how Raphael would lift her up to see out the windows so she could gaze out over the countryside. When she was little, it had seemed like watching the whole world. Something God might do, and not mere mortals like her. Now, she knew she hadn't even seen the full extent of her mother's lands.

Mother, who knelt in the dirt to light her own fire, to cook their meal, because it never occurred to her to rely on servants to do what she could do herself.

As long as she didn't expect Rossa to cook. At best, she'd burn everything to cinders, and at worst, she'd poison them all, herself included. The last time she'd tried, Father had caught her in time to keep her from killing anyone. He'd said she was just like her aunt, who couldn't cook, either, and told Mother to keep Rossa out of the kitchen.

"I'm sure the tower room will be fine," Rossa said. It wasn't like she'd spend much time there, during her waking hours. She'd be training, much like she did at home. Because when her father returned, she intended to be ready. "Shall I light that fire for you now?"

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