The Heartwood Chronicles

Lisette flew over an undulating forest rippling in shades of green. Her wings stretched out from her back, catching the light she drew against them. Thin and metallic, they were composed of several narrow horizontal sections she could manipulate either singly or in groups. They flashed as she bent and broke light around herself, generating both lift and forward motion.

If some hunter in the forest below looked up right now, would he think she was a mythical Snoutbeck? A small smile tugged at Lisette’s mouth.

Up ahead the verdant foothills gave way to taller mountains, blue in the distance. The highest peaks were an ice pale wall, masses of cloud bunched up against the top of it.

There’d be rain coming, but that was nothing unusual.

Lisette bent the light in front of her face and the Wall sprang into closer focus, showing individual mountains and summits wreathed in the mist. The cloud stuff was an innocuous white, with no ominous tinges of green or purple.

Good. Lisette released the rays, and the Wall once again retreated into the distance. She banked and turned back the way she’d come. The railway they’d ridden on earlier climbed down from Last Chance Pass to come to an end in Dismal Hollow, a dingy town about as attractive as its name. After spending a restless night in the town’s best hotel, the four girls had hitched a cart ride to a village several miles down a narrow dirt track, then hiked into the woods on foot to an empty rest area for the night.

Tomorrow they’d be in the wilds. A nervous quiver ran down Lisette’s spine. For one panicked moment, she wanted to arrow straight towards the Pass, to flee homewards.

She gave her head a savage shake. You’re a Heartwood mage, she told herself. The thought is unworthy.

Besides, how could she leave Tamsin all alone with the two newbies?

Below, the woods gave way to a clearing, the steep-pitched slate roof of the rest area starkly visible. Lisette changed the angles of her wings, swung her legs. She hovered in the air for a moment, then drifted down to land feather-light on her feet. The magic drained out of her wings, and they fell limp, whisper-sighing against her back.

Naia stood next to the nearby well, a bucket on the ground in front of her. Lisette watched as the Kaidan girl screwed up her face in concentration. A ribbon of water arced out of the well and dove for the bucket. The stream lost shape as it entered the container. Water slopped over the rim and spattered down the sides. Naia made a frustrated sound.

Lisette grimaced in sympathy, but Naia was already calling up more water from the well. Leaving the girl to her training, Lisette ducked into the rest house.

Inside, Amber was arranging her pack and bedroll upon one of the wooden platforms that served as bunks. Not a wrinkle marred the smooth surface of her precisely-folded blanket. Her unrolled bedding was so precisely lined with the edges of the platform, Lisette wondered if the other mage had used a ruler.

Amber’s spellwork brushed like cobwebs across Lisette’s face. She almost swiped them free of her cheek, then thought better of it. No doubt Amber was setting up mosquito-repellent spells, among the rest. Lisette approved of pest control.

Tamsin squatted near the hearth, coaxing a flicker of fire to life. Back in sensible shirt, trousers, and boots, she looked more like herself. Her hair no longer had that unwonted golden sheen.

She looked up at Lisette.

“I didn’t see anything amiss,” Lisette reported.

Tamsin nodded. “Thanks for checking.”

“No problem,” said Lisette, though they both knew that the only reason Tamsin had sent her out was to work out her nerves.

Tamsin tilted her head towards a sack of supplies. “Help cut up the vegetables?”

“Sure.” This would be the last hearty meal they’d have until they reached the surveyor’s camp where Tamsin’s two associates waited.

Naia bustled in behind Lisette. “Got the water!” she called out cheerfully.

“I’ll scrub the potatoes,” Amber announced, and soon the little camp was bustling with dinner preparations.

 

After dinner had been cleaned up, Amber sat cross-legged on her bunk and said, “Tamsin, you said you’d been called before there was even a Heartwood. What’d you mean by that?” She leaned forward slightly, her braid over one shoulder, her face half in shadows, but her eyes intent, focused.

Lisette, pleasantly full, was lying on her back on her own not-as-neat bedding, but she turned over on to her side to see how Tamsin would respond. Naia, sprawled on her stomach, propped her chin onto her hands, her eyes bright and curious.

Tamsin sat with her back to the wall, her legs stretched out. Her mobile mouth, always ready to laugh, quirked in an amused way. “Well, before there was a Heartwood, there was only the tree on the hill and a shack beside it. The Headmaster lived there back then—only he wasn’t the Headmaster, of course. It’s a place of strong magic, and that’s what attracted kids like me.” She glanced at Amber. “You know the kinds of kids that end up at Heartwood, right? The outcasts, the misfits, the ones with nowhere else to go.”

“You don’t have to tell me about your past, if you’d rather not,” said Amber hastily.

Lisette raised her eyebrows. So she’s learned not to pry, huh?

“Eh, it’s no big deal.” Tamsin stared up at the ceiling. “I have a pretty mundane past compared to some. My dad died when I was little—he was crushed by machinery at the factory where he worked. Mom couldn’t keep us kids all fed and clothed and sheltered on her cleaner’s pay, so she got us older ones positions and apprenticeships were she could. I went into to service at a great house south of Carradia, where my aunt was the housekeeper. It was miserable work, so when my magic awoke and I got the call, it didn’t take much for me to answer.” Her mouth quirked. “Of course, I didn’t have far to go, only a few miles’ walk. I’d gone into Carradia a time or two before and knew it was the place up on the hill that was calling to me. I wasn’t like some of the others who traveled for days and weeks to get there.”

Amber frowned. “What exactly was calling to you?”

“The tree, the hill.” Tamsin shrugged. “The Headmaster would know. He’s been there a while, called by the same thing. He’s been studying it for decades, twining his magic with it. That’s why he can’t travel far from it any more, did you know?”

Naia’s eyes were round. “No, I didn’t.”

Lisette said nothing. She hadn’t known—not in so many words—but it made sense, and it was fitting. The Headmaster belonged at Heartwood; he was one of its few unchanging features. Other people might move on—even Master Zoya might be called back to Serepentina—but the Headmaster would always remain.

As it should be.

Amber was still frowning. “I don’t think it’s quite that.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Lisette broke in, half-exasperated. “Then tell us about it.”

“When I’ve figured it out, I might,” said Amber coolly. Lisette shrugged; it didn’t matter anyway.

“How many of you were there at the start?” Naia asked. “Was it all kids?”

“There were only ever about half-a-dozen of us at a time,” said Tamsin, “and the Headmaster, of course. Not all of us were children, there were some youth and even an adult or two. Most moved on—the hill was only a place of temporary refuge or instructions. The adults never stayed longer than a week or so. Until Master Zoya came along, with Kael in tow.”

Lisette, watching Amber, didn’t miss the sharpening of the other girl’s interest. “Kael was Master Zoya’s ward,” she explained. “The karth—do you know of them?—gave him over to her guardianship.”

“But I—and a few others—were there first,” Tamsin broke in, her eyes gleaming briefly as the firelight caught them. “Zoya persuaded the Headmaster to create the Academy with her. We were the first students. That was about, oh, nine years ago? Lisette joined us just a little bit after.”

Amber raised her eyebrows. “So recently? The house feels so much older.”

“You students nowadays have it cushy,” commented Tamsin. “Back then, it wasn’t much of a house, and it couldn’t make up its mind what shape it wanted to be. You remember, Lisette?”

“Of course,” said Lisette fervently. “The kitchen was up in an attic for a while, and the bathroom was outdoors. The Headmaster didn’t seem to care much—he’d have lived in the gardens all year round. Master Zoya had to get very stern with him so he would make the house behave.”

“The rooms changed all the time,” Tamsin went on. “Except for the Great Hall—we would keep all things in there in case a room disappeared, carrying away our clothes and shoes and books.”

“I slept in the Hall most nights,” Lisette confessed.

Naia sighed. “Wish I could’ve been there. It sounds exciting. A mysteriously changing school!” Her envy was in marked contrast to Amber’s slight shudder.

Lisette grinned. “It was fun exploring all the new parts, but I’m glad it settled down before we lost any students.”

“I was glad when they built the dormitories,” said Tamsin. “Nothing magical and mysterious about them at all—all constructed with brick and wood by Carradian workers.”

“Who were the other kids who started with you, Tamsin?” Naia asked. “Will we meet them? Do they come around much?”

Lisette tensed, but Tamsin stood up, brushing her trousers and shaking her head. “No more questions tonight, ladies. We have an early start tomorrow morning.”

A chorus of groans answered her.

 

“This is the way?” Amber stared at the trail that threaded uphill and into the forest, away from the cart track they’d been following for half the morning.

Lisette looked over her shoulder. “What did you expect? A paved road all the way to the surveyors’ camp?”

Amber didn’t respond, but her expression clearly indicated her unhappiness.

Tamsin consulted the glowing red map that hung in the air in front of her, produced by a twist of the magic bracelet she wore on her wrist, an upgraded version of the crysts used at Heartwood. “Yes, we need to follow that route. Lisette, can you lead the way and make sure we don’t wander off-course? You know this forest best.”

It had been eight years since she’d been here, but Lisette nodded. She could name every tree and vine and fungus in the landscape unscrolling before them. The drone of insects in her ear and the cool, clammy feel of the air on her skin was as familiar to her as if she’d left only yesterday.

“Let’s go,” she said, setting her feet upon the trail. Behind her, Naia exclaimed over the cryst Tamsin’s employer had provided, and Amber made an unhappy resigned remark. Lisette ignored them both as she headed up the trail, the forest closing around her in a way she couldn’t decide was welcoming or ominous.

 

“Oh, how pretty!” Naia stopped to look at a scattering of bright purple mushrooms.

They’d been hiking for over two hours, Lisette watchful and on edge, Tamsin alert but relaxed, Amber grim and silent, but not even the hard toil could dampen Naia’s enthusiasm. Now the Kaidan mage reached out a finger to touch the downy cap of a fungus.

“Don’t,” Lisette said. “Unless you want to think you’re a chicken for the next day or so.”

Naia froze. Her crouched posture and outstretched hand sparked a memory—

A small boy, towheaded, not even four, staring at a ring of dew-speckled brown mushrooms. Herself, sing-songing the rhymes she’d learn to distinguish between edible and poisonous varieties…

Ruthlessly, Lisette suppressed the image, sent it plunging back into the past where it belonged.

“Actually,” she went on, “I think it’s another similar fungus that has hallucinogenic properties. You’d have to eat it, though.”

Naia gave her a look.

“Seriously,” Lisette said, “don’t touch stuff if you don’t know what it is. Remember the burning creeper from before?” She’d been just in time to prevent Naia from handling a plant that secreted a strong irritant.

“Point taken,” said Naia ruefully and moved on to follow Tamsin, now in the lead. Rope hung at her side and twined around her arm. One of the loops had a bunch of metal hooks dangling from one end. Tamsin’s weapon, designed to take advantage of her magic—her ability to manipulate woven cords.

Lisette dropped back to where Amber straggled in the rear. Out of them all, this trek was hardest on the pattern mage. Not only did she lack physical conditioning compared to the rest of them, she didn’t have the strength and endurance sun mages took for granted.

I should’ve thought of that. Lisette watched as Amber panted up the slope, cheeks red and damp from heat and exertion, hair strands plastered to her forehead. “You okay?” she asked the pattern mage.

Amber raised her head, and unease wriggled inside Lisette. The other girl’s eyes held a bright, almost feverish gleam.

“So much… to… see,” she gasped, “if only… I could… take… all in!”

She wasn’t just talking about the scenery. Lisette grasped Amber’s shoulder and gave her a hard shake. “Snap out of it,” she ordered. Some of that alien gleam faded from Amber’s eyes; she looked at Lisette with her Why are you touching me? expression.

Lisette thrust a strip of dried fruit pulp into her hand. “Eat,” she ordered. “You need your strength.” She jerked her head in the Tamsin and Naia’s direction. “And get a move on. I’m going to be in the rear now, and I don’t want to have to keep running into your heels.”

 

***
The next day was even worse, but Naia bore the brunt of it this time. They woke stiff-limbed and ate a plain breakfast of bland oatmeal, washed down with tea. By the time they cleaned up and broke camp, rain was dripping through the leaves overhead.

It rained all day, sometimes a misty drizzle, sometimes a downpour. Lisette, used to damp and discomfort, put up with it without complaint. Amber’s faint gossamer spells kept most of the rain off her, though she obviously didn’t relish the mud spattering her boots and trousers. Tamsin endured it with a few muttered complaints.

Naia, on the other hand, was soaked to the skin. Having decided not to miss a practice opportunity, she was trying to manipulate the rain and failing miserably.

Lisette didn’t think Naia was intentionally trying to attract the rain, but the results would not have been any different if she had.

“Enough of that now,” she scolded as she kept Naia from losing her footing in yet another stream, swollen with rain water. “You’ll have plenty of time to practice later. Right now, try not to break a leg. I don’t want to have to carry you.”

“Besides”—Amber splashed past the pair, her gaze directed groundward—“you’re not doing it right anyway, Naia. Your suns are all in funny shapes. I don’t think they should be like that.”

Naia and Lisette looked at each other.

“What she said,” said Lisette. “Also, magic use attracts predators in these parts. Don’t give them any reason to attack us.” Naia, water trickling down her cheeks, blinked owlishly and nodded.

They spent a miserable night in a small clearing that was more mud than anything else, but was still the driest place they’d found. They huddled together in the shade of some boulders and ate handfuls of dried meat and dense brown bread. There was no cheery, warming fire; instead they sat against the rock and tried to get whatever sleep they could as the leaves overhead dripped water onto their heads.

It wasn’t much, but Lisette, waking up in a grey dawn, felt a light freshness in the air. She didn’t even have to peer up at the sky to know that it would be clear and cloudless.

It had rained itself out last night.

Lisette pushed herself off the rock, stretched her arms above her head. Beside her, Amber was still wrapped in her shimmery cloak, frowning in her sleep.

Maybe she’s dreaming about scolding Kael. Lisette grinned.

Tamsin was already up, boiling water over the fire. A small sack with a loosened top sat on a nearby flat rock. The smell of coffee rose into the air.

Naia had given up on the boulders last night and was stretched out on the ground, regardless of mud. She was burrowed into her bedroll, her loosened hair over her face.

They’d better wake up soon, but maybe I should collect some dewberries for breakfast. It’s the right season for them. Lisette squinted into the shade under the trees, probing for the sight of the silvery berries.

A scream shattered the morning quiet.

Read Episode 3.

Author’s Note: Were you surprised to learn that Heartwood is a lot younger than you’d thought? My husband called that out as a “huh” moment for him when he beta-read this episode. There’s still a lot of mystery about the Academy’s origins (and what is with this “being called” stuff?), but I’m excited to explore it more–in future arcs. In the meantime, I had fun writing Lisette and company’s “Miserable Wilderness Experience” from the warm, dry comfort of my own home! Questions or comments? Let me know!

The new Heartwood arc begins! Enjoy.
Lisette ran in the dark, blundering through undergrowth and tripping over roots. A darker shape loomed suddenly in front of her; she veered, but not in time. Her shoulder clipped the tree trunk. Pain jolted through muscle and bone. Lisette gasped, and kept going.

Her shallow pants rasped in her burning lungs and filled her ears. Her muscles ached.

If only it wasn’t so dark! If only she could see!

Night smothered the forest. The sky above was layered with dark clouds, hiding moon and stars. It would storm soon—the scent of rain mingled with that of pine. Thunder growled in the distance.

Down on the forest floor, trees pressed their shadows upon Lisette’s tight shoulders. Nameless things rustled at the edge of her hearing.

They’d been keeping pace with her.

Lisette forced herself onward, fighting through clinging branches. Where was the village? Where was home? Desperately she scanned the unrelieved darkness for some hint of light.

Nearby, branches clattered together, went still. Dread crawled over Lisette’s skin. Fear was a hard, tight fist in her chest.

Something was stalking her. She felt its presence, clammy against her skin. A stirring of air brought its fetid breath to her nose.

A shape, darker than darkness, sprang towards her.

Lisette screamed.

Fear turned to liquid, ran hot and molten through her body. With it flowed something else.

The bracelets upon her wrists snapped.

Light erupted, a white blaze exploding outwards. It caught the creature leaping for Lisette full in the face. She caught glimpses of green eyes, sharp-toothed snarl, smoke-textured body. The creature twisted mid-leap, fell to the side, whimpering. Trees, tall and stark, cast sharp, elongated shadows behind them. Eyes stared from within bushes—glowing green, yellow, red.

Lisette stumbled, her gaze sweeping down to where the ground dropped into darkness. Her foot slipped on damp grass.

The light vanished. The darkness rushed back. And, with a sharp, hopeless cry, Lisette plunged down the sheer drop into the unknown—

Lisette jerked awake, her stomach still clenched with bad memories. Her body had gone tight, rigid. Her fingers clutched grass, tearing it from the sod. Its scent was sharp in her nose.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t the forest. It wasn’t night time. She was no longer ten years old.

Lisette was behind the girl’s dormitory at Heartwood, and that memory was years past.

The present returned to her in bits and pieces. The rough weave of the rug under her stomach. The press of her cheek against grass. The sharp warmth of the sun against her bare back. The golden light of spring and the twitter of a distant bird.

That’s right. She’d come out here to soak up the sunlight. I must’ve fallen asleep. That was only a dream.

But why now, after all this time?

Lisette caught a damp scent and shifted her head. Amber had emerged from the back door, holding a basket against her hip. She walked over to the clothesline she’d put up for herself.

Oh, yeah. Lisette folded her arms and propped her chin upon them. She’s weird about her laundry.

Amber glanced over and raised her eyebrows. Here it comes, Lisette thought. “Uh, Lisette? You do realize you’re not, um, fully dressed, right?”

“Yes, Amber, I’m aware that I took off my shirt and pants,” said Lisette with exaggerated patience. She stretched her legs and wriggled her toes, enjoying the glide of light on her skin, the heaviness of it soaking into her suns. She hadn’t realized how depleted she’d been. Even all the third and fourth helpings she consumed couldn’t quite make up for the lack of real sunshine. “But I still have some clothes and a deflection spell on. If people are close enough to see anything, they shouldn’t be back here anyway.”

She gave Amber’s back a pointed glare.

“Shouldn’t be or won’t are two very different things.” Amber clipped a tunic to her clothesline. “Flavius wanted to carry this basket for me. I turned him down, but I could’ve said yes. Are you really okay with him seeing you like this?”

Lisette ignored the question. “He’s taken quite the shine to you. There’s no accounting for taste, is there?”

“I didn’t ask him to!” Amber spun around, her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “It’s all his own initiative—oh.” She saw Lisette’s grin and sighed. “Stop teasing—you’re as bad as Kael.” She turned back to her laundry.

“Kael is right,” Lisette called. “You are fun to wind up.”

Amber gave an exasperated scoff. Lisette chuckled. She’d found the pattern mage uptight and annoying at first, but Amber wasn’t a bad sort underneath all that rule-following primness. She had worked hard to help Flavius with his difficult shape-shifting magic, and Lisette didn’t question Amber’s courage, even if the pattern mage had a tendency to complain.

Yes, to her surprise, the new girl was fitting in just fine.

Actually, Amber wasn’t the new girl anymore, was she?

“Hey.” Lisette sat up cross-legged. Amber protested, “Lisette!” but Lisette’s mind was on something else. “How’s Troi’s girlfriend doing?”

“I think neither of them would appreciate you calling Naia Troi’s girlfriend.” Amber hung a skirt with unnecessary vigor. “And she’s doing quite fine, thanks. She already has two hundred friends on her cryst, joined five committees, and is leaning country dances on Tuesdays and card tricks on Thursdays.”

There was silence as Lisette digested all this. “Two hundred?” she asked finally.

“Yep.”

“I didn’t think there were that many students at Heartwood,” Lisette went on.

Amber shrugged. “The staff have crysts, too. Including the pastry chef, the head cook, and the housekeeper. Naia’s friends with them all on her cryst.”

“Wow.” Lisette frowned. “What are the committees for?”

“Hmm, I don’t remember them all, but there’s one for the Midsummer Ball and another for the Heartwood-Carradia Goodwill Society. She also started a club called Kaidan Cultural Appreciation. Didn’t you get an invite?”

“Nah, I turned off all social notifications. I only want to hear from the people who want to actually talk to me.”

“And you’ve been gone a lot.” Amber tilted her head inquisitively. “Where’ve you been?”

“Are you being nosy again?” Lisette demanded.

“Unabashedly so.” Amber grinned. The mischievous look on her face was a far cry from her usual expression of guarded skepticism. She looked bright, even pretty.

Lisette found her own lips twitching into a smile. “I’m mostly running errands for Master Zoya, taking letters and parcels back and forth. Don’t ask me what’s in them, because I don’t know. But I’ve been up and down the coast from Blacktop to Hopeswell, so I think she’s gathering information and allies over the business in the Shattered Valley.” She rubbed the base of her neck, grimacing. She loved flying, but she’d been doing a lot of it recently.

Amber sobered up instantly. “I guess she wouldn’t tell us even if she found out anything.”

Lisette shrugged. “Master Zoya will tell us when Heartwood’s actually ready to do something about it. Until then just go on as normal.”

Amber sighed. She did a lot of that, Lisette thought. “Aren’t you at all curious?” Amber demanded.

“Yeah, but I’m not losing sleep over it.”

Amber huffed and stabbed a clothespin into another of her garments. “Oh, by the way, I heard a former Heartwood student’s back. Kitchen staff was quite worked up about it.”

Lisette stilled. “Who is it?”

“Hmm, I don’t quite remember.” Amber wrestled with a wet bedsheet, the last of her laundry. “Maybe something with a ‘T’? Tammi? Tamlin? Something like that?”

“It’s Tamsin.” Lisette lunged for her clothes, and wriggled into pants and shirt.

“Yeah, that sounds right. Friend of yours?”

Lisette laughed. “You could say that. She’s one of the very first Heartwood students!” She slung her metal wings over one shoulder and grabbed her shoes with one hand. “Hey, can you take this rug inside for me? It’s going to rain soon.”

Amber spluttered. “Wha-why? There’s not a cloud in the sky!”

“Trust me, I smell it. Thanks!” A light, happy feeling bubbled up inside Lisette as she waved and ran towards the main building, Amber’s protests soon left behind and forgotten.

Finally! Tamsin’s back!

 

Tamsin had indeed returned, but, Ainsley informed Lisette, she’d gone immediately to an appointment with Master Zoya.

Lisette’s shoulders drooped.

“Check your cryst,” Ainsley suggested helpfully. “Maybe she left a message.”

“I don’t know if Tamsin even kept hers,” Lisette muttered, but she pulled it out anyway. The crysts had been rather unreliable at first, and their communication spells still didn’t work long distance. They weren’t very useful outside of Carradia, so most sun mages left them at home when they went on jobs. Tamsin didn’t live at Heartwood anymore—she resided in Hampton, the largest city in the middle section of the coast.

But Tamsin had evidently kept hers, because a blue-edged message invited Lisette to join her in the main hall for lunch at—here Lisette checked the time. “Darn, I’m ten minutes late! Bye, Ainsley!” She hurried out of the lobby as Ainsley yelled, “Have fun!” to her back.

Lunch was always the least-attended of Heartwood meals, with the journeymen usually out on jobs and Masters eating at their desks. By the tail end of the lunch period, students were back in classes.

Lisette spotted Tamsin immediately, standing by the buffet table. Even without the sparse attendance in the dining hall, Tamsin stood out in a business suit of grey jacket, white blouse, and pencil skirt. Stockings and high heels completed her ensemble. Her red-brown hair was pulled into a sleek bun, the ruddy highlights shinier than Lisette remembered. Even Tamsin’s green eyes seemed brighter, and the freckles that had once speckled the tops of her cheeks were gone.

She looked grownup, professional, and quite unlike herself. Lisette stopped, suddenly shy of this almost stranger. The gulf between them was wider than the year since their last meeting.

Tamsin glanced up, saw Lisette, and a smile spread across her face. “Lisette!”

“Hey,” said Lisette, not moving.

“What’s the matter?” Tamsin asked. “Aren’t you going to give your big sis a hug?”

“I’d mess up your clothes.” Lisette nodded towards Tamsin’s immaculate jacket.

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Tamsin swept Lisette into an embrace. After a moment, Lisette returned it with a hard, fierce squeeze.

“Now come sit down and eat,” Tamsin invited. “Tell me what you’ve been up to all this time.”

 

In the end, Tamsin did most of the talking, clearly enthusiastic about her Hampton apartment and the perks of city life. “You should really come visit some time, Lisette! I’ll take you shopping—every girl needs a show-stopper outfit in her wardrobe. We can go see a show—not a play, but a musical, and…”

Lisette let Tamsin chatter on in this vein for a while. When the older mage paused for breath, she asked, “So, what do you do in Hampton, Tamsin?” She couldn’t picture Tamsin—or anyone, really—fighting yuka or traveling in that outfit. Most of the sun mages she knew were in high demand as bodyguards, monster hunters, or involved in massive defensive or construction spells, none of which could be comfortably done in business attire.

“I do survey work for businesses based in Hampton, mostly Kaidan and Ravinian ones. Honestly, I’m out on the frontier up to my elbows in muck about half the time. Makes me appreciate my gargantuan bath tub even more when I do get home.” Tamsin laughed.

“Are you traveling for work right now?” Lisette asked.

“I’m in between jobs. I had something to discuss with Master Zoya, so I decided to make a quick stop in Carradia.” Tamsin’s eyes narrowed in memory, and her lips tightened.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, things didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. Master Zoya is just stubborn and old-fashioned, but it’s not a big deal really.” Tamsin shook off her dark mood. “Hey, I just thought of something. I’m off on my next job—why don’t you come along? I could use the help—and the company. The people I work for pay very well.” She leaned forward, eyes brightening. “Do say yes!”

A job with Tamsin? It had been ages since she’d spent time with the older mage. Lisette had been afraid that Tamsin still thought of her as the clingy tagalong child she’d been when she first came to Heartwood. It warmed her that Tamsin saw her as an equal. “I don’t have any other commitments, so yeah, I’m interested. Where’s the job?”

“Greyridge Mountains. In the Spines area.”

Lisette froze. Her mind stuttered. Had Tamsin just said the Spines?

Tamsin saw her expression and exhaled loudly. “Oh, Lisette. You can’t keep running away forever. You have to face it some time.”

“But…” Lisette’s thoughts were in splinters; she couldn’t come up with anything to say in the face of Tamsin’s pragmatism. The remnants of her earlier dream clung to her like glue.

She’s right. But still…so soon? Another voice in her mind argued, It’s been eight years. You’re not a child anymore. They have no hold over you.

“Besides,” Tamsin went on, “I was serious about roughing it. We’ll bring carry our own supplies—we won’t need to go into any of the settlements at all. It’ll do you good just to get used to the area again. Come on, Lisette.”

Lisette stirred her cooling soup unhappily. Tamsin was right. She couldn’t avoid the Spines for the rest of her life. Employers would laugh in her face if she refused jobs in that location in case she might run into someone she’d known. Tamsin was offering her a way to get over her irrational fears. She should take it.

“Lisette!” exclaimed a bright voice. Lisette looked up as Naia, beaming, bore down upon them, tray in hands. Amber, looking annoyed, was behind her. She grabbed Naia’s shoulder, staying the Kaidan mage. “They’re busy,” Amber hissed. “Don’t bother them.”

“It’s fine,” Lisette assured them. Right now, even an interruption by Miss Prim and Proper was welcome.

“You must be the new journeywomen.” Tamsin smiled. “Ainsley told me about you two: a Ravinian pattern mage and a Kaidan wind mage, right?”

“Yep. I’m Naia and she’s Amber.”

Amber hung back, wearing her usual guarded expression. She gave a noncommittal nod.

At least Naia made up for it with her puppy-like enthusiasm. “Are you really one of the very first Heartwood students?” she asked eagerly, as if Tamsin had stepped out of some mythical past.

Tamsin laughed. “I was here before there was even a Heartwood. And when they made the school official, I was third on the list—and only because they went by alphabetical order.”

“Wow,” Naia breathed.

Amber frowned. “You were here before Heartwood Academy formed? How’d that happen?”

“Oh, I was called,” said Tamsin with a wave. “Tell me about yourselves, girls. How do you like Heartwood? Have you gone on many missions yet?”

“I just got here.” Naia made a face. “I changed my magical style recently, and it’s not stable yet. I’ve just been practicing.” She let out a gusty sigh. “It’s kinda boring, actually.”

“I’ve done some stuff around town,” Amber confessed when Tamsin looked at her. “With Kael, usually. I didn’t really want to go to the mines with him when he asked, though.”

“I don’t blame you. Kael’s idea of a good time doesn’t match up with most people’s.”

“He’s all right,” said Amber.

“Tell you what,” announced Tamsin. “Lisette and I are going on a job. Why don’t the two of you tag along and see for yourself what a real Heartwood mission looks like?”

“Wait—” began Lisette, but Naia clapped her hands together. “Oooh, like a girls’ trip? It sounds fantastic!”

Amber looked at Lisette. “You okay with this?”

“I don’t mind if you come along,” Lisette said, “but I haven’t decided if I’m going or not.”

A faint frown appeared between Tamsin’s brows. Then she shrugged. “Well, I’m happy to take anyone who wants to go. Unfortunately, I can’t give you too much time to decide. I leave tomorrow morning.”

“What?” Lisette protested. “But you just got here!” We barely had time to talk!

“Sorry, Lisette, but I have to work to eat.” Tamsin’s expression was sympathetic.

Lisette’s hands clenched in her lap. “Then I guess I’ll come with you.”

“You sure?” Tamsin gave her a searching look.

“I’m sure.” Lisette nodded at Naia and Amber. “You can come, too, if you want.”

Naia cheered. Amber said dryly, “I thought we were already invited.”

“Draw up some chairs, girls,” Tamsin spoke briskly, but she looked pleased. “We need to plan.”

Read Episode 2.

Author’s Note: New arc, new point of view, new character! I don’t have Lisette’s voice pinned down yet, but I hope it will become clearer to me as I go on. I’m excited about a girls’-only mission, too. What do you think so far? Let me know in the comments.

Greetings, Heartwood fans!

I’m happy to announce that the Cloud Village Arc is coming soon! I’ve got the rough drafts of five episodes right now. I plan on polishing them up and releasing fortnightly episodes beginning October 15th. Keep an eye on your Inboxes then.

In the meantime, here’s a teaser:

Lisette ran in the dark, blundering through undergrowth and tripping over roots. A darker shape loomed suddenly in front of her; she veered, but not in time. Her shoulder clipped the tree trunk. Pain jolted through muscle and bone. Lisette gasped, and kept going.

Her shallow pants rasped in her burning lungs and filled her ears. Her muscles ached.

If only it wasn’t so dark! If only she could see!

Night smothered the forest. The sky above was layered with dark clouds, hiding moon and stars. It would storm soon—the scent of rain mingled with that of pine. Thunder growled in the distance.

Down on the forest floor, trees pressed their shadows upon Lisette’s tight shoulders. Nameless things rustled at the edge of her hearing.

They’d been keeping pace with her.

Lisette forced herself onward, fighting through clinging branches. Where was the village? Where was home? Desperately she scanned the unrelieved darkness for some hint of light.

Nearby, branches clattered together, went still. Dread crawled over Lisette’s skin. Fear was a hard, tight fist in her chest.

Something was stalking her. She felt its presence, clammy against her skin. A stirring of air brought its fetid breath to her nose.

A shape, darker than darkness, sprang towards her.

Lisette screamed.

Fear turned to liquid, ran hot and molten through her body. With it flowed something else.

The bracelets upon her wrists snapped.

Light erupted, a white blaze exploding outwards. It caught the creature leaping for Lisette full in the face. She caught glimpses of green eyes, sharp-toothed snarl, smoke-textured body. The creature twisted mid-leap, fell to the side, whimpering. Trees, tall and stark, cast sharp, elongated shadows behind them. Eyes stared from within bushes—glowing green, yellow, red.

 Lisette stumbled, her gaze sweeping down to where the ground dropped into darkness. Her foot slipped on damp grass.

The light vanished. The darkness rushed back. And, with a sharp, hopeless cry, Lisette plunged down the sheer drop into the unknown—

Lisette jerked awake, her stomach still clenched with bad memories. Her body had gone tight, rigid. Her fingers clutched grass, tearing it from the sod. Its scent was sharp in her nose.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t the forest. It wasn’t night time. She was no longer ten years old.

Lisette was behind the girl’s dormitory at Heartwood, and that memory was years past.

(More coming October 15th!)

Hello, Heartwood readers! It’s been a while since my last update. I’ve been busy working on Book 3 of my Reflected City series, but I took some time out to work on a Heartwood story for you. This takes place right after where the e-book exclusive story ends BUT you do not need to have read that one to enjoy “Amber and the Odd Job.”

Speaking of the e-book, Sun and Strands is now available outside of Amazon. Find it at: Apple | Barnes & Noble| Google Play | Kobo

Now on to the story!

The client’s name was Wisteria Plumepuff, and she lived on the outskirts of Carradia. She’d reported a haunting at her house on—here Amber stopped reading the yellow form and exclaimed, “Kael, this was posted nine weeks ago!”

Kael, ambling beside her down a quiet lane overhung with willow branches, said, “Yeah. It was the oldest job. That’s why I took it. Did you want to look for the lost purse or handle the infestation of flour weevils instead?”

Amber shook her head. “It shouldn’t take this long for a Heartwood mage to attend to a request. I thought we were supposed to build goodwill with the people of Carradia. A much-delayed response isn’t going to help. Why aren’t the local jobs on the crysts?”

She was asking the wrong person. As far as she knew, Kael didn’t even know where his was.

He shrugged. “Probably because Ainsley’s at the front desk most of the time. She’s more of a pen and paper type. She very nearly didn’t let me take this in the first place. It broke up the symmetry of the butterfly pattern she’d created on the job board.”

Amber stared, momentarily speechless. Heartwood’s approach to administration, she’d learned over the weeks, was highly individual and often lackadaisical. She thought she was getting used to it.

Apparently not. Her orderly soul shriveled at the thought of organizing job requests by butterfly design. She took a deep breath.

“By the way,” Kael said, forestalling the tirade, “you look nice.”

Amber sighed. “That was a blatantly transparent attempt to change the subject,” she said, “but thank you.” She smoothed down the fabric of her new skirt, even though it was quite unwrinkled. Made of thick fabric in Heartwood red, it made her stand out more than she was used to. A white shirt, collared, buttoned-down and tucked in, and a fawn-colored jacket completed the ensemble. Her Heartwood badge was pinned on the jacket’s left breast pocket, indicating that she was on academy business.

Kael, too, wore a badge, though his look was more on the tousled and careless side. She almost envied him his casual ease. Had she overdone her own outfit? If only the skirt wasn’t so…so…red.

If it were less red, it would be pink, she reasoned. Still, the respectful greetings the Carradians had given her and Kael in town made her want to sink into the pavement with awkward embarrassment.

He belonged; she wasn’t so sure about herself.

“Amber, Amber.” Kael’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. From the exaggerated patience of his tone, he’d been trying to get her attention for a while.

Amber blinked. Kael stood by a broad track going off to the left. “What is it?” she asked.

“We’re here.” Kael pointed up the lane. A farmhouse sat atop a small rise, the sort of building you’d find inland on Ravin, whitewashed with blue shutters, pitched grey roofs, and a porch that wrapped around the house. The forest formed a looming crescent circle behind it.

Amber and Kael strolled up the track, lined with birches on both sides. Their slender white trunks were topped by a spring finery of young green.

A heavyset man, carrying a leather bag and wearing a purple vest, trudged down the track from the house. His head was down, chin tucked into his chest, oblivious to their presence.

Kael called out a greeting. The man looked up, thick eyebrows drawn together. His black eyes glared.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” said Kael cheerfully.

The man grunted something unintelligible and bulled past the Heartwood mages. Amber skittered out of the way, but his arm brushed against hers for an instant. She caught sight of his pattern, suns small but misshapen, twists of indigo. The small dirt-dispelling charm in her jacket snapped apart, smacking and flaring against her skin. She winced.

“You okay?” Kael asked.

“Yeah.” Amber rubbed her forearm, staring after the man. The pattern skewed slightly around him. The yellow lettering on the back of his jacket read STUNNING SPELLS. A jagged lightning bolt separated the words.

Stunning Spells strikes again.

“What was that magic?” Kael asked.

Amber grimaced. “Some sort of pattern disruption. The spell it unraveled in my jacket wasn’t robust to begin with.” The other spells in her clothes remained, though they vibrated indignantly. “I don’t think he knows he’s doing it, though.” There had been no intentionality in that small burst of magic.

“Hmm.” Kael looked at the retreating man, his gold eyes intense, his usually laughing face serious.

“He’s not strong enough to do much damage,” Amber said. “I think.” Sometimes Kael could be downright scary. “Let’s go.” She started towards the house again. After a moment, Kael followed.

***

The last thing Amber said before she knocked on the front door was, “Let me do the talking.” She rapped and stood back, wondering what a Wisteria Plumepuff would look like. She imagined a small, plump woman with wispy hair—probably purple.

She didn’t have long to wait. As the door was wrenched open, Amber put on a bright smile and nudged Kael to stop slouching.

The woman on the other side was tall, with dark hair in tortuous curls, a long, lugubrious face, and spectacles. She wore a deep purple dress with several necklaces of varying lengths. Ceramic pendants hung from each chain.

She peered shortsightedly and suspiciously at Amber. “Yes?”

“We’re from Heartwood Academy, ma’am.” Amber held out the job request. “We’re here to look into the haunting.”

“Oh.” The woman glanced down at the request, then back up at Amber and Kael. Her eyes behind the lenses were very blue. “You’re a bit late. The man from Stunning Spells came out a month ago to take care of it. He returned today to check up on the spell he installed. He left only a few minutes ago; you just missed him.”

And who knows what all he messed up in the meantime. “I’m sorry it took us so long to respond,” said Amber, “but could we take a look around, just to make sure everything’s all right?”

“It’s free of charge,” Kael added.

Amber’s smile froze.

Miss Plumepuff pushed her spectacles back on her nose and started doubtfully at them. “You are very young, both of you.” She sighed. “I suppose it can’t hurt. My studio’s been almost too hot recently.” She clumped onto the porch. Under the purple dress she wore sensible boots. “Come on then.”

Amber hung back as the woman descended the steps. “I was going to offer her a discount,” she hissed at Kael.

“You said to build goodwill,” he reminded her. “Besides, those goons at Stunning Spells almost killed a memory moth. Don’t you want to make sure they don’t mess something else up?”

He had a point. “Yeah, I do,” said Amber grimly.

Miss Plumepuff led them behind her house and down the short slope to a barn. The forest had crept close to the building. Amber caught sight of still-bare branches of maples and elms amongst the dark green firs.

Huh. That’s funny. The slope is south-facing. It should get a lot more sun.

Indeed, a cold aura surrounded the barn, the chill soaking through her light jacket. Amber shivered and folded her arms around herself.

Miss Plumepuff hauled one of the big barn doors open. “Come on in,” she called over her shoulder. “There’s plenty of room.”

Kael entered first, Amber crowding in behind him. A familiar jangle rang in her head.

She grimaced. Yet another malfunctioning spell.

Kael turned and gave her a questioning look. Amber activated one of the spells she wore, the one imprinted in her hair tie. It readjusted the pattern around her, sending the worst of the discordant vibrations around her. The noise in her head eased, and she gave him a small I’m-okay gesture.

“This is my studio,” Miss Plumepuff announced from the middle of the space, hands on her hips. Despite its openness, it was quite warm. Large windows let in the afternoon sunlight. “Try to be careful, please.”

“Wow.” Kael wandered over to a huge brick kiln on one side. “This is amazing.”

When Wisteria Plumepuff had mentioned studio, Amber had half-expected easels and canvases. It was, however, clear from the wheel, the kiln, the long tables and smell of clay that Miss Plumepuff was a potter.

Oh, and the long shelves crowded with pots and mugs and plates were a dead giveaway.

Highly breakable pots and mugs and plates. Amber darted a warning look at Kael, which he completely missed since he was still examining the kiln.

“Can you tell me about your…uh… haunting problem?” Amber asked.

The woman shuddered. “Oh, it was quite horrible. I felt something watching me, something with cold breath and malicious gaze. It was right there.” She pointed dramatically to a spot behind Amber.

Amber spun around, expecting to see an old blood stain, but that section of stone floor looked just the same as the rest.

“Did you see the… um… apparition?” she asked.

Miss Plumepuff shook her head. “Never. But it watched me, I’m sure of it, from there”—her finger moved to a closet—“and over there.” She pointed to a spot under a window sill covered in potted plants, still flowering.

Kael sauntered over to the sill and peered at the pots. They contained bell-shaped flowers of deep blue. “These are bitter blues, aren’t they?”

Miss Plumepuff beamed. “Yes. They’re my favorite flowers, but it’s hard to keep them blooming all winter long. One of my friends sent me this variety she’s grown in her hothouse…” Having pegged Kael as a fellow lover of flora, she launched into a monologue about hybrids, fertilizer, and soil composition.

Amber used this opportunity to track down Stunning Spells’ charm. It was near the kiln, wedged behind a stack of firewood. Amber peered at it with both her normal sight and her mage senses. A hollow ceramic sphere around a runic core, it had been painted purple and yellow. Clearly, Stunning Spells had updated their branding.

Myriad wires snaked out of the ceramic shell, their ends taped to the wall and floor. Pattern strands, pulsating red, bunched in cords around the wires. Heat came off in waves from the spell.

Amber grimaced. Of course. Stunning Spells had treated the symptoms, not the disease. Miss Plumepuff had complained about cold spots in her studio, so all Stunning Spells did was to get rid of them.

By pulling heat from the outside and dumping it inside the barn.

A lot of heat, judging from the thickness, color, and overall energy of the pattern around the spell.

Great, thought Amber unhappily. All this heat is just masking the cold spots. I’d have to unplug the spell, wait a few days for the pattern to normalize, then come back and investigate what might’ve caused them in the first place.

Somehow, given the way the woman had looked earlier, she doubted Miss Plumepuff would agree to that.

Amber made a This-isn’t-going-to-be-easy face at Kael from behind Miss Plumepuff. His gold eyes flickered in her direction; he gave a slight nod, and then deftly maneuvered their still-talking client to the door.

“Goodness me, here I am taking up all your time when you just wanted to look around.” Miss Plumepuff gave a girlish giggle. “Come up to the house when you’re done. I just baked some lemon cookies. Oh, and give the door a hard shove on your way out—it doesn’t shut all the way sometimes.”

As soon as Kael had shut the door—hard—behind Miss Plumepuff, Amber gave him the bad news. “No wonder the trees behind the barn haven’t leafed yet,” she finished unhappily. “The spell’s pulling a lot of heat from the surroundings. I’m surprised it hasn’t fizzled out or worse, started a fire already. Stunning Spells isn’t known for solid and safe workmanship.”

“They sent that guy here today.” Kael peered behind the potted bitter blues, then examined the glazed vases on a nearby shelf. Miss Plumepuff’s style ran to squat, odd-shaped, and brightly colored. “Would his magic twist the spell like this?”

Amber winced. “Yeah, probably. It was put near the kiln first, to draw excess heat from there. But someone with disruptive magic on even a small scale could mess up Stunning Spells’ shoddy work, no doubt about it. Now it’s pulling heat from outside and shows no sign of stopping until it overloads. Those people are a menace, I tell you.”

“Hmm.” Kael knelt down and looked into the gap under a closed cupboard.

Amber put her hands on her hips. “Kael, why’re you looking inside pots and under furniture?”

“Searching for a frost mouse.”

“A what?”

“A frost mouse. We get them around here sometimes.” Kael rose to his feet and gestured in the direction of the forest. “The bitter blues reminded me of them. Bitter blues expel their seeds when it gets cold in the fall. Frost mice like to eat them, so they’ll often hurry up the withering stage by making it colder around the plants.”

Amber’s eyes widened. “Oh! Miss Plumepuff did say she noticed cold spots near the window.” She frowned. “Just how big is a frost mouse, anyway?” She hadn’t signed up to battle giant rodents.

“Normal-sized for a mouse. It’d fit in my hand,” said Kael from under a table. “Hey, couldn’t you use your witchy sensing magic to find it? I bet you could.”

Amber was still thinking. “I’m assuming a frost mouse doesn’t have that much of a range. The bitter blues aren’t that big either; it wouldn’t take a lot of cold to speed up their seed dispersal process. But Stunning Spells’ magic is dumping a lot of heat into the studio. It should be boiling in here. So, the question is this: Just where is all that energy going?”

Kael emerged from under the table, his gaze fixed on a point above Amber’s head. “Uh, Amber? I think we’re about to find out.”

Amber spun, following his gaze up to the hayloft. Something large and sinuous—about the size of a dog—rustled in the straw.

Its pattern was a knotted mess. Thick cords of reddish energy clung to it.

It jumped.

Amber squeaked and hid behind Kael. The creature landed with a thump, a grunt, and a scrabble of paws. Its eyes gleamed red, its long snout opened to reveal needle-like teeth. Its sinuous body was a dark grey and a long, worm-like tail slithered behind it. Waves of chill emanated from its fur.

“How’s that a frost mouse?” Amber demanded. “It’s a giant ice rat!”

Drool dripped from the creature’s jaw, long trails of saliva that puddled on the floor. Ew!

“The spell must’ve changed it,” Kael said. “Look, it’s hurt.”

Indeed, the giant rodent appeared to be having a bad time of it. It scratched an eye with a paw, staggered off balance, nearly flopped onto one side.

It didn’t have the hang of moving the large body it currently occupied.

Well, that’s one good thing at least. Maybe capturing it won’t be so hard after all.

The rodent glared at the Heartwood mages. Its muscles bunched and gathered.

It leapt right at Kael.

Kael’s suns flared. He punched the creature in the face, his fist wrapped in heat-shimmer and fire-yellow.

The rodent sailed through the air and landed on its back, squealing and writhing. The thick pattern cords wrapped around it flared red and dug cruelly into the creature. Its pattern fluxed.

“Kael…” Amber warned.

The rodent rolled onto its paws, muscles rippling, fur sparking.

Is it just my imagination or did it just get larger?

The rodent opened its mouth. An icy blast—likely mixed with rat drool, gross—sent Amber staggering back a step. The temperature plummeted. Frost clung to Amber’s face and nipped her ears.

“Don’t use your magic!” Amber yelled as Kael moved in again. “Heat’s just going to make it bigger!”

“I got it.” Kael pounced on the rodent, trying to pin it to the ground. The creature fought back, writhing furiously, snapping at whatever part of Kael was nearest.

What if it’s carrying a disease? He could get infected and turn into a zombie! “Be careful!” she yelled. She tugged at the pattern strands dumping energy into the creature. But they were sunk deep into the rodent’s body and burned her mage senses. Amber hissed in pain. Even if she did manage to yank them out, she didn’t know what would happen.

Probably an explosion of rat all over Miss Plumepuff’s studio.

Amber didn’t relish the idea.

The rodent bucked and knocked Kael into a set of shelves. It tilted dangerously. Amber wrapped pattern threads around it, keeping the shelves from falling over.

The items upon it weren’t as lucky.

Clay vases and pots rained down on the combatants and smashed to pieces on the floor.

Lovely.

This couldn’t go on—she had to do something. Ice skimmed the surface of the table and crawled up the glass windows. The bitter blues, so bright a moment ago, withered, petals turning brown and shedding across the sill.

Yet another thing Miss Plumepuff’s going to hate us for.

Amber’s breath misted in front of her face as she scrambled over to the firewood. Heat wrapped around Stunning Spells’ charm. The colder it got, the more energy it drew from the outside and poured into the rat. The ceramic shell sizzled and jumped. Sparks exploded out of it, showering upon the split logs. Amber covered her face with her arm.

Fire and ice at the same time? Give me a break! Amber hastily coated the wood with a slick fire-proof pattern. Then she went back to wrestling with the threads that connected the spell to the enlarged frost mouse. The threads stung as slid and twisted in her mental grip.

“Amber,” Kael called with clenched-teeth calm, his hands around the rodent’s neck, keeping its snout away from himself. The writhing creature pushed Kael into a table covered with unglazed pots. Amber hurriedly stabilized the teetering ceramics, but a couple got away from her and crashed onto the ground. “Can’t you do something about this guy?”

“The stupid Stunning spell is sunk in too deep!” Amber snarled. “It burns to the touch and the rat keeps moving besides! This isn’t as easy as it looks, Kael!”

“Oh, you need it to stop moving?” Kael balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into the rat’s head.

The creature went boneless on the floor, a dazed look in its eyes. The cold waves it emanated ceased and Stunning Spells’ malfunctioning charm went from a sizzle to a menacing drone. The temperature in the studio slowly began to climb back up.

Amber surveyed the combatants, sprawled amongst pottery shards. “Good. Now take care of that thing.”

Kael and the rodent looked at her reproachfully.

“It’s not the frost mouse’s fault!” Kael pointed out. “It just had the bad luck to get caught in a badly-done spell. Frost mice are harmless, really. Can’t you do what you did with Flavius?”

“Flavius is a human being. This is a rat.”

“It’s a mouse,” Kael corrected. “Please?”

Really, it was ridiculous that both boy and rodent wore identical expressions of appeal. Amber sighed. “I’ll try. It’ll take a while though, and Miss Plumepuff might not be so forgiving when she sees this mess.” Trickles of melted water ran down the table legs.

“It’ll be best to take the mouse into the forest, anyway,” said Kael. “I’ll carry it.”

“You’d better. I’m not touching that.” Amber reached over to the troublesome spell that had caused their predicament in the first place. It was almost spent; when she poked it with a finger, the ceramic covering crumbled to dust. There was a brief flare of venom-green runes. Then they, too, dissipated. Amber broke off the connection to the frost mouse. The spell remnants still clung to the creature, but at least she’d cut off that nasty feedback loop.

“You should get out of here soon,” she told Kael. “I’d rather Miss Plumepuff not see the creature you’re trying to save. She might insist on killing it right here and now.

“And”—she looked around—“someone has to break the news to her—no pun intended. I suppose it’d better be me.”

Kael beamed, his expression warm and gold as the sun. “Thanks, Amber. I owe you one.”

“You’d better remember that,” she said, turning away so he wouldn’t see the answering twitch of a smile on her face. She really shouldn’t be feeling so light inside when he’d just talked her into playing doctor to a rodent, of all things.

***

“Everything going all right?” Hours later, Kael slipped back into the clearing and put something warm and woolen around Amber’s shoulders.

A coat. Amber snuggled gratefully into it. Bluish-silver rune lights cast a moon glow in the deepening twilight, but they held no warmth at all.

“Yep. In the end, all I had to do really was remove the nasty leftover bits of that spell. The frost mouse’s body wanted to return to its normal self. I made sure it didn’t revert too fast—that would’ve killed the creature, I think.”

“Thanks, Amber.” Kael sat down next to her and placed a basket in front of them. “I brought food.”

The basket was large enough to hold dinner for ten. Amber’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. She fairly snatched the sandwich Kael offered out of his hand.

“How’d it go with Miss Plumepuff?” Kael asked. “You didn’t say earlier.”

“Terrible. Even after I explained that it was all Stunning Spells’ fault, she still persisted in saying we were no better. I had to offer to pay damages—that ate up a chunk of my sign-in bonus.”

“You should’ve just let Heartwood deal with that.”

“Are you kidding? If there’s an official complaint against me, it’d affect my performance raises in the future! I can’t have that!” Amber waved her half-eaten sandwich for emphasis.

Kael laughed. “You worry about the weirdest things, you know.”

“It’s weird to me that you don’t,” Amber muttered.

“I didn’t have much to do with money growing up.” Kael shrugged. “It’s not like I need it. I get food and shelter at Heartwood. What else would I need besides clothes and shoes once in a while?”

“I guess we just have different ideas about money,” said Amber. “It’s not like I need a lot of it. I just like to know I have enough, in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case something unexpected happens.” Maybe Kael’s happy-go-lucky attitude had worked so far for him, but Amber knew the importance of a rainy day fund. She could still remember the strain in her mother’s face as she counted coppas, always too few, never enough. Those days of scarcity were long gone, but Amber had learned her lesson.

“That’s fair.” Rune lights sparked on the shell-feathers in Kael’s hair. “Tell you what, though. I was responsible for most of the damages and you’re doing me a favor with the frost mouse, so I’ll cover them all.”

“You sure?” Amber was skeptical. Given his propensities, she suspected he’d had to pay out a lot in damages over the years.

“Of course.” Kael looked over to where the frost mouse lay sleeping in a nest made of his red scarf. “Hey, he’s waking up.”

Sure enough, the frost mouse stirred and sat up. Amber had to admit its normal form was cute. It had silvery fur, soft and cold to the touch, delicate snowflake ears, and appealing dark grey eyes. Its tail and claws were a crystalline white.

Kael coaxed the creature onto his hand and produced a brown seed-pod. He tapped seeds in front of the mouse, who took one in its front paws, sat up, and nibbled happily.

Amber raised her eyebrows. “Seeds from Miss Plumepuff’s precious hybrids?”

“I only took a few pods,” said Kael. “She has plenty left to grow her next set of flowers. She wanted to make improvements, anyhow. She didn’t quite like what her friend gave her.”

He placed the mouse gently on the ground and scattered the rest of the seeds around it. They sat in silence, while Amber and the mouse ate. When Amber silently offered Kael a sandwich or cupcake, he refused with a smile and small wave of his hand.

Huh. I thought he was always hungry.

They cleaned up the picnic things after Amber had had her fill. It was full dark now, and an owl hooted overhead. The frost mouse froze, whiskers twitching, then darted into the shadows under a nearby bush. Kael wrapped his scarf around his neck and picked up the basket. Amber was pretty sure the coat was his, but it was too warm to give up. She thrust her arms through the sleeves and followed him out of the clearing. The rune lights twinkled into non-existence behind them, but Kael found a stick, covered it in orange and yellow light, and held it up like a torch.

“I’m surprised you didn’t keep the frost mouse,” Amber commented finally. “You really like animals, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t keep one,” said Kael. “Pets are a big responsibility, and I’m gone a lot. I can’t always take an animal with me, and it’s not fair to leave one behind and ask other people take care of it—why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well,” Amber tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a smile. “Kael, Responsible Non-Pet Owner is not a side I’ve seen before. It’s kind of cute.”

They were both silent.

Amber thought, Uh-oh, here it comes.

Kael began, “So, you think I’m—”

“I said,” Amber jumped in, “that side of you is cute. Cute like a frost mouse. It’s a totally different thing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I do not appreciate that skeptical tone, Kael.”

“What? I was just agreeing with you.”

“But—” Amber sighed. “Never mind. You’re hopeless.”

“And amazing.” Kael grinned. “And, apparently, cute.”

Amber just rolled her eyes.

Read Episode 1 of the new Cloud Village Arc.

Author’s Note: I’m having way too much fun with Amber and Kael’s interactions. I’m thinking about writing and posting Heartwood flashfic while I’m still working on the other book, so if there are characters you want to see more of (especially interactions between them), let me know! Thanks for sticking with me so far.