Nell Larkspur's Arc

Chapter 17 of 23

The witch worked, and Nell watched the witch. Polona knelt over Linny on the rug. Her silver hair caught the firelight. Her hands moved in small, sure patterns above the girl's chest, and the black lines under Linny's skin faded, one thread at a time. Linny's breath came deeper. Her lips lost the gray. But Polona kept glancing at Nell. Not at his face. At his hands. At the cut on his arm where he'd bled for the false trail. At the green tips of his ears. Her mouth moved like she was tasting something. "You're a rare cut of meat," she said. She smiled when she said it. "Half-blood. Forest-marked. In debt." Nell said nothing. He remembered his father's warning. It always costs more than you mean to pay. He set his hands flat on his knees so they would not shake. "You haven't asked what I'll take," Polona said. She smoothed a hand down Linny's arm. The purple hair on the rug was drying now, no longer stuck with blood. "Most men beg. You just sit." "You said later." "I did." She tilted her head. "But later comes at dawn, and dawn is close. You should know what shape the price could take. So you don't argue when I name it." He made himself breathe. "The girl on the rug," Polona said. "Not her. She's spoken for by the debt already. But you have another one. Blue hair. Cold hands. Waiting in a cellar with a boy and a fox." Nell's stomach dropped. He had not said Lena's name. He had not said any of it. "I see what you carry," Polona said, gentle. "It's written on you. She would settle the debt very cleanly. One girl for one girl. Fair trade." "No." The word came out before he thought. Flat. Final. Polona's bright eyes lifted to his. She was not angry. She looked pleased, the way a cat looks pleased. "No," he said again. "Take my hands. Take my years. Take the shack. Not her. Never her. Name any price on me and I'll agree now, in front of the fire, before you finish. But not Lena. Say her name and I carry Linny out into the woods and let us both die on your step." He meant it. He felt himself mean it, and so did she. Polona studied him a long moment. Then she laughed, soft. "Good," she said. "That was the last of the healing. I needed to know what you wouldn't sell." She stood. Linny's chest rose, steady now. Whole. "The price is you, woodcutter. A service. One task, on a day I choose. You'll know it when I call." She held out her hand. "Agreed?" He took it. Outside, gray light touched the round windows. The door unlocked itself. Linny opened her eyes and said her sister's name.