We followed the path around a bend, and a tree taller than all the others came into view. As we approached, I noticed tiny, diamond-shaped fruits sparkling in the leaves, but what was most unusual was its trunk and branches—all crystal clear as if created from glass. The wind tousled the long branches, and they made a tinkling sound as they brushed together.
A raised, wooden deck wrapped around the tree. We climbed the steps to the top and walked onto the deck. I couldn’t help but run my hands over the glassy tree trunk, and I found it warm to the touch. Streams of magic sparkled inside the tree, carried up through the trunk and into the leaves from the roots that absorbed the energy.
Kull led me to the railing overlooking the river. Below us, the white-capped, glacial water shimmered in the evening light. He opened the pouch and emptied its contents onto his open palm. His hand seemed to dwarf the small seeds as he turned to me.
“Here,” he said, handing me a few seeds that were warm and light in my hand. “After I say the words, you must toss them into the river.”
Although the ritual was something I’d never experienced before, I felt a connection to it—a quiet harmony I was only now discovering.
Kull inhaled a deep breath. “Here goes.”
After a pause, with the rushing sounds of the river flowing below us, he began the chant.
“Hail All-Father,
Wise warrior,
One-eyed wanderer;
Bless this water that it might give life,
Bless these seeds that they might spring forth,
May winter’s end come quickly,
So that we may we find our way to Valhalla,
To the hearth that you have prepared as a resting place for us,
To tell us your wisdom stories,
To run the skies with you,
Let us understand sacrifice,
Think long,
Love well,
And journey far.
Odin, witness this.”
Together, we tossed the seeds over the edge and watched as they soared downward, gaining speed until they hit the water with dozens of tiny splashes.
Kull peered out toward the mountains. The last rays of sunlight fell over him, and a gentle breeze tousled his hair. I tried to remember every detail—his forehead creased in concentration, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips. I etched every feature into my memory, knowing that soon all I would see was this—my memories of him—and nothing more.
I turned to stare at the river. The seeds had disappeared, hopefully swept away by the water current to someplace fertile, a new future and a new beginning.
“It’s finished,” he said.
“You did well.”
He stepped closer to me and gently touched my hand. I almost pulled away, but he trailed his finger toward the gauze wrapping my wrist.
“He did this to you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He bound my wrists with enchanted chains to keep me from using my magic. The metal burned like ice, but what was worse was the loss of my powers. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, to say the least. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
His gaze wandered from my wrists to my cheeks. Gently, he touched the scars that ran from cheekbone to chin.
“And this?”
“He hit me.”
Kull’s eyes blazed with fury for half a second. “My sister told me you weren’t clothed under the cloak. Did he injure you in other ways?”
“No. He only wanted me to suffer, to make me cold and hungry, to break my spirit. But for some reason—perhaps because there was some humanity left in the man whose body he had taken—he seemed to hold back.”
Kull only nodded. “I was frightened for you.”
I couldn’t meet his gaze. “You were?”
“Yes, I was.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
“You don’t? Why not?”
“I believe that you would have felt guilty had I been killed, which would have been bad for your quest and would have led to the fairies’ stone being transported to a place where it could never be found again. So, yes. I can see why my death would have frightened you. It would have spelled doom for your mission to rescue the gemstone. Defeat is a hard thing to live with.”
“I was frightened for other reasons, Olive.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Up here, away from Earth, secluded from the rest of the world, those dark times seemed like they’d never happened—a nightmare I had trouble remembering.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “It doesn’t matter now. None of it matters now.”
He nodded, then moved his hand away. “At one time, when I was a child, I hated it out here. My parents would send me down to Grandamere’s cottage while they went away to battle or made a pilgrimage. This was a cage to me. I spent most of my time wondering when I would get to leave. But now, it has become a sanctuary. It’s funny how your perspective changes as time passes—funny how your feelings change, as well.”
He propped his elbows on the railing and rested his chin in his hands, his gaze seeming a million miles away. “I suppose you’ve come here to demand that I return to the keep?”
“Yes, that had been my intention.”
“I see.”
“They need you, Kull. Rolf—he’s no king. He sticks his foot in his mouth every chance he gets. If he’s supposed to negotiate with the other races, then every nation on the planet will go to war by the end of the week. He has no tact. He’s offensive—and although I know he has a good heart—he isn’t observant like you are. He once told me that Ket was prettier than me—”
Kull laughed. “Did he?”
“Yes. Also, he was baffled as to why you had chosen me over
