Page 98 of Enchantment of Silver and Sea
We were standing in a front room that made Cato’s office look plain and pristine by comparison. The walls and floors had the same rough appearance as the other houses I’d been inside in Ersa Estates. But rather than the barest of furnishings, this one was packed to the brim with all manner of objects. Some made sense to me, for an enchantress—the shelves of bottles with contents that were all the colors of the rainbow; the collection of stones and other talismans that littered mismatched tables of varying sizes; the spell books strewn among everything, each one seemingly opened to the spell that was last used. But there were also decidedly human objects as well, many of which were old, obsolete electronics that I knew only from books. Things like toasters, hot curlers, and even a lawn mower. There were boxes with cracked glass screens that had once been computersor televisions…or maybe there was a mix of both. It was difficult for me to distinguish between the two.
“Admiring my collection?”
The voice was as smooth as silk, and it was a perfect fit for the person it came from. She stood in the corner of the room, and the first thing I noticed about her was her hair, which alternated between streaks of raven black and snow white. Her skin was pale but still had some warmth to it, with undertones of gold. Which was the perfect complement to slightly upturned gold eyes. In contrast to her striking features, she wore a simple black dress that billowed around her ankles.
“Yes,” I said finally. “It’s incredible.”
Cecil gave me a quick wink as moved toward the door. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
And then we were alone.
“Come, have a seat.” Sigrid gestured to a small table by the gaping hole in the wall that was once a window. Fabrics of all different colors and patterns had been pinned over it to keep out the elements.
I sat down in the open chair, and she cleared a stack of books from the chair across from it. When she sat, the corner of her delicate pink lips turned up in a knowing smile. “Am I what you expected, Maila? Do I match the descriptions your Library gave of witches?”
“Yes,” I answered immediately. There was something unsettling about her, but also something fearsomely beautiful. Just as the encounters that were detailed in the basement journals had described. “Except your kind are referred to as ‘enchantresses,’ not ‘witches.’”
Sigrid’s laugh was like a song. “How surprisingly inconsistent! I’ve never known humans, and particularly Cyllene, to go with the least degrading term for a magic user.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“Let’s not mince words, Maila.” Her tone was firm, but not threatening. “I didn’t want to meet you before because I’m not quite as trusting as some of the others in our camp. Twenty years is a long time to live in a city. To nurture relationships with its people. To have every day, every action, every aspect of your life intertwined with its belief system.”
“My beliefs are my own,” I answered just as firmly. “And not everyone in Cyllene is bad.”
“I agree with both of those things. That’s why I decided I was ready to meet you.” She took a deep breath. “I know Cecil shared with you that he knew your sister, Irene. I knew her as well. After she confessed to him that she could wield magic, he started bringing me with him when they would rendezvous. She supplied us with food and other essentials. In turn, Cecil shared books with her. And I supplied her with the knowledge she needed to hone her abilities. It was a great partnership while it lasted.”
The note of regret in her voice made my throat tighten.
“I’m guessing you know now the truth of our history with Cyllene. The fact that the people here, and those that came before them, have always been at odds with the city that shuns them. The city that celebrates the people it can control and exiles the people it cannot.” She leaned forward, raven and snow-white strands pooling on the table in front of her. “You also know your abilities now. That you were sought out by us for your brain and the knowledgeit contains, but also for your abilities, which we knew from Irene were—even though dormant—just as magnificent as hers.”
The reminder that Irene never shared any of this with me herself made me shift in my seat. “Yes,” I confirmed. “I know all of that now.”
Sigrid leaned back, absently twirling one of the silver bands that decorated her fingers. “Tell me, then. What can I answer for you? What do you want to know?”
As always, a million questions ran through my head. But I settled for, “Why are you here? In Ersa Estates, I mean. Why is an enchantress willing to help the people here?”
Her eyes softened. “Because they need me. Contrary to what others from our world may think of humankind, I have a soft spot for creatures who are suffering. And maybe…maybe I see a bit of myself in them. Sorrow isn’t an emotion reserved exclusively for humans. Magic users have the same conflicts, the same power struggles.” She smiled ruefully. “Some of us feel like we’re always on the losing end of things, too.”
It wasn’t the response I had expected. It made warmth blossom in my chest.
Before I could think better of it, I suddenly had the urge to speak exactly what was on my mind. “I want to know what all of this means. What I can do to make things right for Kieran, and Nya, and Cecil. For everyone in Ersa Estates. I don’t hate Cyllene, and I certainly don’t love what this group did to it today. Whatwedid to it today. But I also want to make things right for them.” I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. “I need to know what my role is in all of this.”
The smile she gave me pinned me to my chair. “One day soon, you will.”
As I walked back from Sigrid’s later, my heart felt full. We had talked for hours about magic. And unlike my conversations with Cato, nothing was off-limits. It was strange, but in spite of all that had happened today, I had this feeling in my gut that things had happened exactly how they were supposed to.
I couldn’t explain why. And maybe, if I tried to look deeper to understand it, I would find that it was just the sense of validation and camaraderie that had formed in me as Sigrid and I spoke. But I wasn’t going to question it.
I rounded the corner from Sigrid’s street and froze. It was late, and the chairs around the fire appeared to all be empty. But one figure stood in front of the flames, his back to me.
Kieran.
Relief and joy brought a grin to my face. He was awake. He was alive.
But he didn’t turn as I approached. Or when I stopped beside him. Just like the seven-year-old version of him that I had spoken to, his eyes were trained straight ahead. As if nothing else around him existed.
Icy fear clenched in my gut. “Kieran?”
