Tin Swift(127)

“I know,” Rose said, pulling a small hook and yarn out of her pocket and stitching along the row to keep her fingers busy. It looked like she was crocheting a soft rope. Maybe an eye patch for the captain. “But I also know we won’t find out what’s going to happen unless we try. There isn’t anyone in the world who’s ever had a thing like this.”

“So what are you asking, Rose?”

“I’m asking you to help remove it.” She pulled on the yarn and rewound the thread through her fingers, stitching on again. “I don’t know what else to do,” she said softly. “You can bind things, join things. I was hoping you could unbind the Holder from me.”

Mae wanted to tell her no. That asking the sisters for help with magic might come at too high a cost. But there simply wasn’t anyone else, and certainly not anyone here, who could even attempt to unbind the Holder.

And it wasn’t the only magic that Mae needed to do. She had bound Hink to his ship, so much so that the damage the ship received echoed through him. In a very real way, he shared the Swift’s pain. A condition she was sure he was eager to be done with.

She had also promised Cedar and Wil that she would try to break the curse the native gods had placed upon them.

She hadn’t been strong enough to attempt that alone, back in Hallelujah. But now she was home, surrounded by twenty-five women skilled in magic. She would see that it was done, no matter what Miss Adaline wanted from her.

Rose waited, letting Mae think it through.

Hink leaned his good elbow on the mantel above the hearth, and let his gaze shift between Rose and the windows on the far side of the room, caught in his own thoughts. He was much quieter these days.

“I’ll do what I can,” Mae said. And at Rose’s obvious relief she added, “We’ll find a way to free you of it. There’s no need for you to fret.”

“Thank you,” Rose said. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be willing. And so soon. It will be soon, right?”

“Tonight, I think,” Mae said. “I’ll go talk to the sisters about it. Then we’ll take care of this.”

Mae stood. “I’ll see about the preparations.” As she left the room, the sound of Hink’s voice, then Rose’s laughter followed her.

Rose was brimming with hopefulness. She knew she had a second chance at life after coming so very close to death, and it looked like she intended to live it to the fullest.

Maybe Mae needed to start looking on the bright side herself. After all, she was a witch. A very powerful witch. And while it might have been her magic that had harmed her friends, it would be her magic that saved them as well.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


Cedar stood out on the porch of the gathering hall, looking across the coven’s fields to the orchards turning silver-orange in the setting sun. He still hurt if he moved too quickly, his ribs catching at simple movements. His neck and face were still so sore that he had a constant ache in his head.

The sisters had been surprised when the ships dropped anchor over their north field a week or so ago, but they had welcomed Mae and all the others in out of the rain and wind. They’d found a bed for everyone, and put their best healers to soothe the wounded.

The dead were wrapped in clean blankets and buried beneath the apple orchard with soft prayers. Miss Dupuis had stayed out by Theobald’s grave for a day and night before coming back into the houses.

Tonight, Wil sat beside Cedar, silent as only a wolf can be, listening, just as Cedar was listening to the women who had been called from the surrounding acres, preparing for Mae to unbind the Holder.

He’d asked Mae if she was recovered enough to use magic again, and she’d avoided his eyes before answering him. He didn’t know what it was about this place, but it made him uncomfortable.

Mae seemed uncomfortable too. Angry.

Alun Madder strolled up in front of the porch, the cherry-scented smoke from his pipe curling around his head. “You still owe us that promise, Mr. Hunt.”

“Which promise, Mr. Madder?” Cedar asked. “That I hunt the Holder for you so long as our roads remained the same?”

“That’s the one.”

“Found it. The Holder’s right back there in that room, attached to Miss Rose Small.”

Alun leaned on the outside of the porch rail, his back to Cedar so he too could stare out at the sunset. “That’s one piece of it. One out of seven. It’s a good start, but it doesn’t make your promise to us fulfilled.”

“I killed Mr. Shunt,” Cedar noted.

“That you did. But if you think his hands are the worst that the Holder can fall into, you are misunderstanding our problem.”