Faerie Winter

Elin, back toward my town. Kyle and Johnny followed; they had no choice. Once I got them safely away, I’d return to find Matthew.

“Kyle,” Elin called in her velvety voice.

Kyle kept holding my hand, but he pressed his lips into a pout. “Let me go, Liza.”

“Kyle, you seem like such a sweet child,” Elin crooned. “I would very much like to see the color of your blood. Will you show it to me? The butterfly’s pins are sharp enough.”

Kyle took the clasp and jabbed it into his arm. Blood trickled out. He lifted the clasp to stab himself again. I dropped Johnny’s hand, grabbed the butterfly from Kyle, and flung it into the forest.

Johnny bolted to Elin’s side before I could grasp his hand again. She stroked his hair, and he bent toward her, like a well-behaved cat.

“Johnny,” I called. “Come here.”

“Quit it, Liza.” His voice, at least, still sounded like his own.

“Johnny!”

He walked toward me, scowling. Even as he did, Kyle jerked free and inched away, a guilty look on his face.

“Kyle!”

Kyle stopped moving away, but Johnny turned back to Elin.

“So you’re a summoner, are you, Liza?” Elin placed a possessive hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “That’s almost as inconvenient as the fact that glamour doesn’t seem to touch you. Yet even a summoner only wields so much power, especially when other magics fight her. You cannot hold them both for long. Glamour grows stronger over time.”

I didn’t need to hold them. Magic flowed in two directions—Karin had taught me that. “Elin. Go away.”

“Is that the best you can do, Summoner?” Elin’s silver eyes filled with disdain. “Johnny, I believe I should like to see your blood as well.”

Johnny nodded like a child eager to please. He took his knife from its sheath and brought it to his left wrist.

I ran at him, grasped his right arm just above the knife, and twisted. The blade fell to the ground. I grabbed it and flung it into the forest. A thin line of blood welled up from Johnny’s skin, but the cut wasn’t very deep. I spun back toward Elin.

Her hands closed around my throat. “I think that will be quite enough, Liza.”

As I lurched away, wool tightened around my throat, leaving me gasping for air. My scarf—I grabbed at it but couldn’t pull it away. “Go away, Elin, go away!” I choked on the words as I reached for my knife. I should have gone for the knife from the start. It couldn’t fail me the way magic could.

Elin’s hand brushed my wrist. Wool flowed over my fingers, and my own sweater sleeve wrapped around my hand, forcing my fingers into a fist. I reached for the sleeve with my other hand, but I was too slow. Elin grabbed it, and wool flowed over that hand, too, trapping it. I staggered, letting my pack, with its bow and quiver, fall from my shoulders. “Go away, go away—” I needed more air. I brought my bound fists to my neck, but they were too clumsy. My sight blurred, and I fell, gasping, to my knees. Kyle laughed. The sound seemed very far away.

Elin’s fingers brushed my neck again, and the scarf loosened. I drew gulping breaths as I stumbled to my feet. “Elin, go away!” I threw all the power I could into the call.

Elin’s laugh was wild. “As if after the Uprising I would entrust any human with my full name. Perhaps if your power were greater or we’d known each other longer, this short form would suffice, but that is no matter.” She looked down at me. “And now, Liza, I believe we are ready to talk.” She took my knife from its sheath. I lunged at her, but she stepped aside and handed the knife to Kyle. “Kyle, dear, would you hold this?”

I would not let fear cloud my thoughts. I would not. Kyle tested my knife against one finger, but Elin made a tsking sound. “Not yet.” Kyle obediently drew the knife away. Johnny moved to Elin’s other side. My hold on them was gone.

“Take me if you must, but let Kyle and Johnny go.” I had a chance yet of fighting my way free, but Kyle and Johnny didn’t, not while glamour controlled them.

“I don’t think so.” Elin’s silver eyes were bright. “Though glamour doesn’t touch you, as a weaver I have power enough of my own, and if it is a small thing beside my mother or grandmother’s magic, still it has its uses. Give me your hands.”

I backed away. “What do you want with us?”

“That is for the Lady to decide. Your hands, Liza.”

The Lady will not like this. Karin’s words, from my vision. Mom had spoken of a lady, too, when she’d told me about glamour. She’d said the Lady had turned a boy into a stag and hunted him, and her voice had tightened with fear.

There was a black walnut tree just a few paces from the path. If I could get to it, tear my sleeves against its bark—

“This will not do.” Elin turned to Kyle. “You may use the knife now.”

He pressed the steel to his palm at once, slicing skin.

“Kyle! Come here!”

He shuffled toward me. The blade seemed huge against his small hand. Blood welled up as he pressed it in deeper.

“Give me the knife.”

Kyle hesitated, then shook his head—no. He grinned as his hand grew slick with blood. Johnny laughed as he watched us.

A few more steps and I’d reach the tree, but if Kyle cut too deep, he could lose use of his hand. I stopped, drew a sharp breath, and held my hands out in front of me. “Leave him alone.”

Elin’s feral smile reminded me of a cat that had cornered its prey. “No more playing with the knife, Kyle.”

Kyle frowned, but he drew the blade away. So much blood—I couldn’t tell whether tendons had been severed. He looked up at me, and for an instant fear flashed across his face. “Hurts,” he whispered.

Elin patted his shoulder. “Of course it doesn’t hurt.”

Kyle nodded slowly, though his hand still bled. Anger threatened to choke me, as surely as my scarf had.

“If you take so much as a single step without my leave, Liza, I shall feel free to command him to slit his own throat. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” I kept the fear from my voice. Anger had its uses, after all.

Kyle stared down at his bleeding hand, as if it puzzled him. Elin glanced at Johnny. “Find my butterfly, and bring it back to me.” Johnny headed off among the trees to do as she asked while Elin stalked toward me.

“Much better. Grandmother says all humans come into line sooner or later. It is simply a matter of learning to speak your crude language.” Elin took my hands in hers. I fought not to flinch as she rolled up my loose coat sleeves and crossed my arms in front of me. Wool flowed once more, liquid and glimmering, until my sweater bound my arms together at the wrists. Elin smiled as she stroked the sleeves, and the rest of the sweater tightened around me, constricting my ribs. I gave a sharp gasp. I could breathe, but I couldn’t run. I pulled at my sleeves. The binding at my wrists held. I was trapped.

Panic shuddered through me. Kyle drew his bleeding palm to his mouth, as if his wound were a mere curiosity. “Bind his hand.” Talking hurt with the sweater tight around me.

Elin smiled sweetly. “Kyle doesn’t mind a little blood, does he?” Kyle shook his head. “Still, it would not do to bring him to the Lady damaged.” Elin strode idly to Kyle and touched the sleeve of his wool coat. Light flowed beneath her fingers, and a strip of wool fell away into her hands, as surely as if she’d cut it. She wrapped the cloth around Kyle’s injured hand and ran her fingers over the wool. The edges melted together, the way wood melted beneath Charlotte’s hands. When Elin drew away, a tight gray bandage circled Kyle’s palm. Kyle grinned, even as blood began to seep through.

Johnny returned with Elin’s butterfly. The wings were bent, but they flapped on. Elin frowned as she