Elsa Wintry's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Elsa was still working on the hare's haunches when Master Cornelius arrived. She heard his boots on the frozen path before she saw him. The phoenix went flat immediately, folding her wings tight and lowering her head until she looked like nothing more than an elaborate decoration. He carried a brass apparatus with crystalline lenses that caught the morning light. The kit sat heavy in his arms, all stone base and intricate instruments. "Your breakthrough with the hare proves my theory," he said, setting the device on her workbench. "The brushes contain extractable magic. I need samples from each one." His hand moved toward the frozen handles resting in their holder. Elsa stepped between him and the bench. The cold in her chest spread down her arms. She thought of the aviary behind the studio, the one with glass panels and wards she'd been preparing for weeks. "The brushes stay with me," she said. Master Cornelius went very still, that held-still that meant he was calculating. A small creature with rainbow-hued feathers drifted between them, its cloud-like tail shimmering. She'd carved it yesterday as a test of the phoenix's teaching. It moved on its own now, gliding in slow circles. His eyes followed it with the same hunger he'd shown the phoenix. "You've made another living sculpture." His voice dropped lower. "This confirms it. The magic isn't in you, Elsa. It's in the tools. And tools can be studied." He reached past the wispling for her brushes. She grabbed his wrist. They stood frozen, her hand on his arm, his fingers inches from the handles. Then the phoenix sang. That sound like ice shifting deep beneath everything. Master Cornelius jerked back, and Elsa saw the fear flash across his face before he could hide it. He left without the brushes. But she knew he'd return with different arguments, and next time she might not be able to refuse.