Princess Willowyn's Arc

Chapter 16 of 70

Two nights passed. On the third morning Willowyn watched from a high window of the pale keep. A black carriage rolled up the vine-draped road, pulled by a dark horse. Her tutor had come at last. She had pictured a bent old woman, gray and cracked with age. She hurried down the mossy stairs, the white minx darting after her. The carriage door opened. A young woman stepped out. She wore a tight black gown and a dark cape, and a pointed hat sat on her short dark hair. She could not have been more than a few years past twenty. Willowyn stopped short. This was not the crone from the servants' tales. "I am Raven Nightshade," the woman said. She looked up at the towering spires without a flicker of awe. "You can just call me Raven, Princess." "You are my age," Willowyn said, then caught herself. "Well. If I were a natural human." She smiled. "I am Willowyn. Please, no princess talk with me. Just Willowyn." Raven tilted her head, as if weighing the offer. "Willowyn, then." She pulled a worn satchel from the carriage seat and slung it over one shoulder. "Show me where I'll sleep. A witch works better rested." Willowyn led her inside, past the vines that spilled through the great arched doors. She called for a chamber to be made up. Servants brought fresh linens while Raven walked the halls, touching a moss-covered stone here, a hanging flower there. She said little. Her red eyes missed nothing. "Your mother paid me for a full year," Raven said. She dropped her satchel on the made bed. "She told me your power runs loose. That you could drown a friend by accident." Heat rose in Willowyn's face. "I can pour water. I can water a trough. I cannot stop a blade." "Then we have work." Raven crossed to the window. Below, a basin caught the light. "Show me. Right now. Pull that water up." Willowyn raised her hand. She drew the water from the basin into a coil. It rose, wobbled, then splashed on the sill. The minx leapt back. Raven did not laugh. She studied the spill. "You reach with your want. Not your will." She stepped close. "Water listens to a steady mind, not a hungry one. Tomorrow you learn the difference." "Tomorrow?" Willowyn asked. "Tomorrow we start our training." Raven set her hat on the bedpost. For the first time she smiled, small and sure. "A year is short. And what I teach can save a life or take one. You'll need both hands steady before I trust you with either." Willowyn nodded. The witch she had feared was young, plain-spoken, and here to stay. Her mother had given her law. Now this stranger would give her control. She left Raven to rest and stood in the hall, the minx at her heel. The waiting was over. Her real training began at dawn.