Wildwood Dancing

You’re frightened. The raft floats out on the water, far out, beyond a safe margin. What then? Tell me the story. Think hard.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I was there.” The witch smiled; the moonlight glanced off her little pointed teeth. Nothing comes without a price.

She was right: I really had been stupid. I looked down at the crown in my hands. “A gift of great power,” I said softly.

“What are you saying? I couldn’t be queen of the fairies. That was a child’s wish.”

“You won the nearest thing I could grant you, little brave adventurer that you were: free entry into the Other Kingdom for you and your sisters, for as long as you needed it. Each of you got what she most desired from it: for Paula it was scholarly company, for Stela little friends to love. Iulia’s wishes were simple—to dress up and dance, to enter a world more remarkable and vibrant than your own could ever be. Tati waited a long time for her reward. She is still waiting, but what she most longs for will come soon enough, if Sorrow can win it for her.”

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I could hardly breathe. “And what about me?”

“The satisfaction of pleasing those you loved. The escape; the freedom; the Otherness. And more, if you learned to recognize it. You had to grow and change, Jena. So did your cousins.

I did not act from sheer mischief that day by the lake. For the good of Piscul Dracului, for the wildwood, for the valley, I made a choice. Three choices. Three wishes.”

“I was on the raft.” I grasped for old memories. “It floated out too far. Costi swam after it to save me. He was scared. Nobody swims in the Deadwash, not if they value their life. But he did. He got his hands on the raft; he got me more than halfway back. Then . . .” Then he got into difficulties, and I had to rescue you, Jena. I went back in for Costi, but he had disappeared under the water.

Hands pulled him down—the witch’s hands. I could still hear Cezar telling the story, coaching me, word for word, so I would get it right when we had to tell our parents. It wasn’t my story—it was his.

“Go on, Jena.”

“I was scared. I had my hands over my eyes. I didn’t see anything until I got back to the shore. I know the raft tipped up and I nearly fell in. I opened my eyes when I landed, and it was Cezar pushing the raft, not Costi.”

“And after that? Did you look out across the water? Did you see Costi?”

“No,” I whispered, a terrible feeling creeping over me, the cold knowledge that I had misjudged my best friend in all the world. “I ran off into the bushes and hid. I put my little blanket over my head. When I came out, there was only Cezar. Costi was gone. And Cezar told me what had happened.”

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“And you believed him.”

“I was only five.” It seemed a poor excuse. “Besides, why would you turn Costi into a frog? You said he had to grow and change. How could that help?”

“He got his wish, as you did yours. He gave up what was most precious to him: his badge of family. He was an arrogant boy—impetuous and exuberant—but he did have duty at heart, and love for his parents and his home. There was a lot of good in him, enough to make his future important. I could not allow that arrogance to go unchecked. He wanted to be King of the Lake, and he got his wish. Isn’t a frog the master of the water, free to go wherever he wishes, lord of all he surveys—as long as he keeps a lookout for large fish?”

“But he wasn’t,” I said. “When I found him later, he was weak and sick and frightened. He didn’t know how to be a frog, not properly.”

“Part of his learning, and of yours,” said Dr?agu?ta, her beady eyes fixed on me from the shadow of her broad-brimmed hat.

“He learned patience and humility; you learned compassion.

You both learned love. At least, that was the intention. Don’t look at me like that, young lady. I have your best interests at heart.”

I found this very hard to believe. “Then why the magic mirror? Why show me Costi’s face and make it into something hideous that gave me nightmares? Why show him attack-ing my sisters? I thought the mirror showed the future. I thought it offered warnings. All it’s done is make me hurt him terribly.

He’ll never forgive me for this.”

“He will find it difficult to forgive, yes,” Dr?agu?ta said. “I 335

saw the anger in his eyes—the sorrow and shock—when I gave him back what he had given up to me, all those years ago. Costi has a difficult time ahead of him. It is unfortunate that he cannot have his heart’s dearest by his side, but this is the path you have chosen, and you must follow it as best you can.”

“You saw him just now? Gave him back his family ring?”

She nodded. “And I have sent Cezar back his own treasure,”

she said. “A surprise—he’ll get it tomorrow. Now that Costi is home, his brother can no longer be King of the Land.”

I stared at her, horrified. “What?” I whispered. “You mean . . . Cezar becoming the eldest son, and later on getting control of the estate, and taking ours as well, and . . . You mean that was all part of granting a wish? That he actually wished he could take Costi’s place?”

“At eight years old, Cezar was not wicked; he was an ordinary little boy who loved his brother dearly. When I asked him what was most precious to him, that was where his eyes fell: on Costi—his hero, his idol. But he did not make his choice in innocence. As he realized what he had been offered, his childhood fell away from him, and he set his feet on a new path. He chose power before love. He could have saved Costi. I offered him that opportunity after he brought you to shore: his brother was still swimming, but was held there by the current, unable to come in. Instead of helping him, Cezar stood and watched his brother go under the waters of T?aul Ielelor. In that moment, he shaped his future. He has fought that decision over and over as he has grown to be a man. But he could not unmake it. He could not change the fact that when the choice faced him, he took the darker path.”