The Lady laughed at my words. “You do not know my name, Summoner, but I know yours. You need not be afraid, Liza.”
I heard her, didn’t hear. The nightmare was with me still, making my heart pound and my breath come in gasps.
“Rest, Liza.” The Lady’s velvet words couldn’t get past that fear. Not yet—but already my heart was beginning to slow its pounding.
I pulled my arm free, bolted to my feet, and raced past the Lady and Matthew, past where Johnny thrashed in nightmares of his own. I stumbled over tree roots, and out the door and up the stairs, into the frosty morning air. My feet kicked up powdery new snow as I ran. Clayburn’s ruined buildings were to my right; beyond the trees to my left, water trickled hollowly beneath the frozen river. Thick clouds hid the sun.
As my mind cleared, I ran harder, holding my fear close, urging it to protect me. I couldn’t let the Lady steal my will and my thoughts again.
She followed, calling after me in a cold chiming voice, commanding me to slow my steps. I kept running, but it was harder now, as if the air itself were thickening around me. I heard a bark—Matthew chased me, too. I almost turned back, but giving myself blindly over to the Lady wouldn’t save him. I had to save myself before I could save anyone else.
Teeth bit through my pants and ankle, drawing blood. I skidded to a stop and kicked backward. My heel connected with Matthew’s fur, and my leg came free. Gasping, I grabbed a branch from the ground and spun around. A weapon—I didn’t want to use it.
Matthew snarled. He didn’t know me. He really didn’t.
The wolf whined. For a moment his gaze focused on me—saw me. Then he spun away and ran, crashing through snow and underbrush as he disappeared into the forest.
“And now you have made me angry.” I hadn’t heard the Lady run after me, but she must have, because she closed the distance between us in a few swift steps and grabbed my arm. The branch slipped from my fingers.
“You must be punished for making me so angry.” The words sank down deep, making my bones ache. How could I not accept whatever punishment she deemed just? “What shall I turn you into? A fish, perhaps, abandoned to strangle on dry land? Or a tree, left to die alongside all the other trees as this world slowly winds down?”
I said nothing, knowing I would accept whatever she demanded, knowing I never should have run. A last echo of fear shuddered through me and was gone.
“And yet, I have need of you.” The Lady’s hair was down, but glimmering light seemed to cling to it still. “A deer, perhaps—but deer are skittish things. Horses are skittish, too, but they submit to the bridle well enough.” Her grip tightened around my arm, and I felt power ripple through me—
The Lady’s hand fell abruptly away. I remained human, which puzzled me. The Lady drew a single sharp breath, she who made so little sound. Her gaze was on something beyond me. I turned, hoping my few steps wouldn’t anger her further.
Someone walked toward us through the trees. A faerie woman, in old denim pants and a leather jacket, wearing a small backpack. Her hair was pulled into a long, clear braid that fell over one shoulder. I hadn’t heard her steps any more than I’d heard the Lady, or Elin.
“Karin?” My thoughts were muddled and slow. What was Caleb’s sister doing here? A bone-handled knife was sheathed in her boot, and a bracelet of green ivy circled her wrist, its leaves oddly bright in this world of bare trees and gray sky.
Karin nodded at me, then dropped to one knee before the Lady. “Mother,” she said. “It has been a long time.”
Karin was the Lady’s daughter? There was something odd about that, too. I moved closer to the Lady, reaching for her arm. She ignored me. For long moments neither she nor Karin spoke. I could have run then, only I no longer remembered why I’d wanted to.
At last the Lady took Karin’s hand and lifted her to her feet. “I had not thought to see you alive again, daughter.” Her voice held no expression.
“The years since the War have been long,” Karin agreed, her voice just as flat. A brown ragweed vine poked through the snow and wrapped around her boot. “I take it you are well?”
“As well as can be expected in such fallen times. I would hear the story of your travels, and how we come to meet this day, but first I must deal with this disobedient human. I promise it will not take long.” Her cold fingers grasped mine, and I knew she hadn’t forgotten me.
That was good. I didn’t wish to be forgotten. I wished to be a fish, or a horse, or whatever else the Lady required.
Karin brushed her braid over her shoulder, a deliberate gesture. “I come seeking my student.” She tilted her head toward me. “I see you have found her, and I thank you for it.”
“I see no plant speakers here, nor none of the blood, either.” The Lady’s voice was cool, polite.
“In these times we teach whom we must,” Karin said. “Surely you no longer insist all your students be changers now?”
“Of course not. I only insist they be of the blood.” An edge crept into the Lady’s voice. If Karin was her daughter, didn’t she know better than to anger her mother?
Light snow began to fall. My ankle ached where Matthew’s teeth had dug in. I hadn’t noticed before.
“Though Liza be human, her power is great,” Karin said. “I value her. If she has done you any harm, I will make amends for it.”
“There is surely some mistake.” Sharp as hawkweed thorns, the Lady’s words. I flinched, glad those words weren’t aimed at me, even as the Lady said, “Liza, my daughter claims to be your teacher. Does she speak true?”
The question was a strange one. “Faerie folk cannot lie.”
The Lady’s smile was a cold and glittering thing. “Yet we have been known to slant our words from time to time. Is she your teacher?”
I had no teachers. Mom had taught all the other children in my town, but no one had taught me, not until this winter.
Except for Karin. What little I knew of magic—that visions were less terrible when spoken aloud, that magic could save as well as destroy—I’d learned from her. My own mother had suggested it might be best if I continue to learn from her.
I did not want to leave the Lady’s side, but neither could I lie. “She has taught me, yes.”
The Lady’s face darkened, the way storm clouds did when they blocked the sun. “Very well, Daughter. Take her, then.”
Karin’s gaze didn’t waver. “Release your hold on her first. She is under my protection, as all students are under the protection of their teachers.”
“You presume much.” The Lady released my hand and brushed her fingers lightly over my arm. Something left me, and I fell to my knees, understanding at last how small and weak I truly was. The Lady smiled, and I flinched from the daggers in her gaze, knowing they could cut right through me. She was still beautiful, though, beautiful as a new-sharpened blade.
Karin drew me to my feet. There was anger in her silver eyes, and a hint of the Lady’s perfect beauty as well. I fought the urge to bow before her, too, as if something of glamour lingered in me yet. My head dipped, just a little, and Karin lifted it.
“Not to me, Liza.” She whispered the words close to my ear, so low I doubted even the Lady could hear. “Never to me.”
I looked at her, knew her. She was Karin, only Karin. For some reason the thought brought tears to my eyes, and I was too weak to fight them.
“It is good to see you well, Daughter.” Only the faintest echo of storm-cloud anger lingered on the Lady’s face. “I look forward to learning more of the events that have brought you here this day. Will you and your”—she paused meaningfully—“
“I truly regret that I cannot join you.” Karin bowed her head. “But my student and I have much to discuss. I
