stopped at the doorway but didn’t turn around. Behind her cottage lay the beginning of the land owned by Miss Mabel’s School for Girls. I shivered, thinking of the painful memories. Letum Wood cast a long shadow on days like this.
“Are you going to tell the High Priestess what you know about me?” I asked, peering out the door to the dripping forest. It would be so much easier that way. Then I wouldn’t have to bear yet another secret, another burden on my strained heart. But would she? Isadora didn’t have to act on what she saw.
“Who said she doesn’t already know?” she asked.
I whirled around.
“Does she?”
Isadora peered into my eyes. “That’s not for me to say. Mildred knows many things that I do not.”
“She suspected that Miss Mabel would—”
The words stopped again, just short of hope. She suspected that Miss Mabel would bind me into an agreement. Maybe the High Priestess was already anticipating a traitorous action. If she knew, she certainly gave no sign of it.
“Regardless of whether Mildred knows or not,” Isadora said, “I will not be the one to tell her. Sometimes the most obvious courses are not always the safest.”
Disappointed but not surprised, I closed my eyes, took several breaths, and pressed forward into the gray fog that had settled in behind the rain. Isadora had her own reasons for her silence and I had to trust that it was for the best.
I ducked away from the little cottage and into the wispy fog, grateful to return to Letum’s expansive ceiling. The dragon inside cooled as I walked further away, my cape billowing out behind me.
Sanna
“W e’re going far into Letum Wood for your lesson today,” Merrick said the next morning.
We stood in the middle of the Forgotten Gardens on the edge of the castle grounds. They surrounded a dilapidated stone building with no roof that had been crumbling into ruins for years. Ivy and vines from Letum Wood had slowly been pulling it into the forest. New leaves sprang from the dead, dried vines of last year, coating the decaying walls in a layer of fluttering green. Every now and then bluebirds peeked their heads out and chirped, dancing along the wall with the promise of spring.
“Far into Letum Wood?” I asked. “How is that any different from the other runs?”
“It will be much farther than we’ve gone before.”
The hope for an adventure ran through me like a little thrill. But then a nagging reminder of Mama’s ghost tugged on the moment, reminding me that running was no adventure anymore.
“You look quite refreshed today,” I said in a dry tone, elevating one eyebrow. “Sleep well?”
A light dusting of stubble touched his cheeks with a golden shimmer, highlighting his bloodshot eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face to push aside his hair. He wore it down today, and it hovered above his shoulders like strands of sand.
“You’re brave to taunt the witch who controls how hard you have to run,” he said, mimicking my dry tone. I snorted with false bravado.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
But a little flicker in Merrick’s eyes told me that perhaps I should be.
“Let’s go," he said, nodding toward the creeping fog of Letum Wood. “We’ve got a jaunt to get there.”
“Do we have to run?”
“What else do you recommend?”
I hesitated. “Not going?”
His tolerance for my attitude took a considerable dive.
“We’re going.”
I grabbed his arm when he turned to leave.
“But I can’t run!”
“Why?” he demanded, staring at me.
I hadn’t expected such a vehement response. I could sense something behind his question.
“Because.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Because what?”
Because it hurts too much.
“Are we really having this conversation again? I just can’t."
“Yes, we are having this conversation again because I want you to tell me why you refuse to run.”
My heart hammered in my chest. For a second, the words hovered on the top of my tongue, but I dismissed
“Are you going to tell the High Priestess what you know about me?” I asked, peering out the door to the dripping forest. It would be so much easier that way. Then I wouldn’t have to bear yet another secret, another burden on my strained heart. But would she? Isadora didn’t have to act on what she saw.
“Who said she doesn’t already know?” she asked.
I whirled around.
“Does she?”
Isadora peered into my eyes. “That’s not for me to say. Mildred knows many things that I do not.”
“She suspected that Miss Mabel would—”
The words stopped again, just short of hope. She suspected that Miss Mabel would bind me into an agreement. Maybe the High Priestess was already anticipating a traitorous action. If she knew, she certainly gave no sign of it.
“Regardless of whether Mildred knows or not,” Isadora said, “I will not be the one to tell her. Sometimes the most obvious courses are not always the safest.”
Disappointed but not surprised, I closed my eyes, took several breaths, and pressed forward into the gray fog that had settled in behind the rain. Isadora had her own reasons for her silence and I had to trust that it was for the best.
I ducked away from the little cottage and into the wispy fog, grateful to return to Letum’s expansive ceiling. The dragon inside cooled as I walked further away, my cape billowing out behind me.
Sanna
“W e’re going far into Letum Wood for your lesson today,” Merrick said the next morning.
We stood in the middle of the Forgotten Gardens on the edge of the castle grounds. They surrounded a dilapidated stone building with no roof that had been crumbling into ruins for years. Ivy and vines from Letum Wood had slowly been pulling it into the forest. New leaves sprang from the dead, dried vines of last year, coating the decaying walls in a layer of fluttering green. Every now and then bluebirds peeked their heads out and chirped, dancing along the wall with the promise of spring.
“Far into Letum Wood?” I asked. “How is that any different from the other runs?”
“It will be much farther than we’ve gone before.”
The hope for an adventure ran through me like a little thrill. But then a nagging reminder of Mama’s ghost tugged on the moment, reminding me that running was no adventure anymore.
“You look quite refreshed today,” I said in a dry tone, elevating one eyebrow. “Sleep well?”
A light dusting of stubble touched his cheeks with a golden shimmer, highlighting his bloodshot eyes. He rubbed a hand over his face to push aside his hair. He wore it down today, and it hovered above his shoulders like strands of sand.
“You’re brave to taunt the witch who controls how hard you have to run,” he said, mimicking my dry tone. I snorted with false bravado.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
But a little flicker in Merrick’s eyes told me that perhaps I should be.
“Let’s go," he said, nodding toward the creeping fog of Letum Wood. “We’ve got a jaunt to get there.”
“Do we have to run?”
“What else do you recommend?”
I hesitated. “Not going?”
His tolerance for my attitude took a considerable dive.
“We’re going.”
I grabbed his arm when he turned to leave.
“But I can’t run!”
“Why?” he demanded, staring at me.
I hadn’t expected such a vehement response. I could sense something behind his question.
“Because.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Because what?”
Because it hurts too much.
“Are we really having this conversation again? I just can’t."
“Yes, we are having this conversation again because I want you to tell me why you refuse to run.”
My heart hammered in my chest. For a second, the words hovered on the top of my tongue, but I dismissed
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