uncertainty from her voice. “As soon as this-whatever just happened-wears off.”
Paul looked about to object, but was interrupted by another fit of coughing. “Magic,” he said weakly when he had finished. “You know, that thing you aren’t supposed to have?”
The reproach in his tone snapped her back to herself. “Paul McCormick,” she exploded, “you are the most fly-brained, stone-stubborn, rabbit-witted-”
He gave a rasping laugh. “You dove in after me. What does that make you?” He moved to sit up, but she pressed his shoulders down with her hands.
“Don’t you dare. You’ll stay right here until we’re both rested, and until I get your promise-no, your oath-that you’ll never do anything like that again.”
He glared up at her, rebellious; she stared down at him with equal determination. At last he turned his face aside. “Fine,” he muttered.
She caught him by the jaw, forcing him to look back at her. “Swear,” she said.
“I swear never to try and drown myself in front of you again.”
“That isn’t enough. You know what I want. Say it.”
“That’s all you’ll get!” He struggled against her grasp, then fell back panting.
“Why did you do it in the first place?” demanded Knife. “If you really wanted to die-”
“It’s not my fault you wouldn’t leave! Anyway, how was I to know you could change size? You lied to me!”
“I didn’t lie,” Knife said stiffly, letting him go. “I’ve never done magic before. I didn’t know I had it in me.” She stood up, wringing water from her sodden tunic. “And now I’ve probably used it all up, saving your miserable human neck.”
Paul was silent.
“How much time do we have until your mother gets back?” Knife put a hand to her hair and let it drop, disgusted. “I can’t believe you used to swim in that hole.”
“Neither can I. And she won’t be home for a couple of hours.”
“Then we’ll have enough time to get you back to the House. And if we’re lucky, she’ll never guess what you tried to do today.”
“How long will you…stay like that?” Paul asked, raising himself up on his elbows with difficulty.
“I don’t know. So we’d better hurry.” She strode to the edge of the pool and yanked his wheelchair free of the mud. “Come on.”
It was hard going back up the hill, though not as difficult as Knife had feared. She might be the size of a human, but Paul’s shocked reaction when she picked him up and lifted him into the chair made plain that she was stronger than an ordinary human woman would be. So while she had to put all her weight behind the wheeled throne in order to push it up the slope, she did not worry that her strength would fail-only that her muddy feet might slip and send both her and Paul tumbling to the bottom again.
When they reached the crest, Knife paused to catch her breath, rubbing her aching palms against her thighs. All the way up the slope she had kept her head down, focused doggedly on the task at hand; now at last she could relax and see how far they had come.
“We made it,” said Paul shakily.
Knife looked up, shielding her eyes against the sunlight. High overhead two crows were circling, but for the first time in her life, she could watch their flight without fear. A squirrel scampered across her path, all soft fur and bright eyes. Trees, grass, wildflowers-everything around her seemed lovelier and more meaningful than ever before, and it was hard for Knife not to wonder if this might be the way the world was meant to be seen. After all, it was a lot easier to appreciate a landscape when you weren’t worried that something in it was going to kill you.
But there was no time for sightseeing; they had to get back to the House. She turned to Paul, only to find that he had already wheeled his chair back onto the road and was pushing it homeward with brisk, determined strokes. She had to run to catch up with him.
Once they reached the House, Knife fetched the garden hose from the side of the house and sprayed the chair, Paul, and herself until she had washed away all trace of mud. Then they went inside, where there were towels to fetch, laundry to gather, and wet floors to mop; and by the time Paul agreed they had done enough and took himself off to a hot bath, Knife was more than ready for one herself.
Yet even as she lay in the McCormicks’ upstairs tub with the warm water lapping over her skin, Knife could not relax. The feeling of the porcelain against her shoulders reminded her of her missing wings, and all the worries she had tried to suppress bubbled back to the surface of her mind. She might not be the first faery since the Sundering to inadvertently cast a spell, but she was surely the first to turn herself human. What if she ended up stuck this way? Or worse, what if she shrank to her natural size, but her wings never came back?
Hastily Knife pulled the plug and stood up. Her tunic and breeches were still damp, but she wrung them out as best she could before wrestling herself into them. She might not know what would happen to her next, but when the magic wore off-if it wore off-at least she would not be caught unprepared.
By the time she made her way down the stairs, Paul was waiting at the bottom. “Sorry about all that,” he said, not quite looking at her. “You can go now.”
“Back to the Oak? Not at this size,” she replied. “Besides, I’m not going anywhere until you-”
A tingling chill ran through her body as she spoke, and the room reeled around her. When her dizziness subsided she lifted her head, to see Paul staring down at her from a mountainous distance.
It’s worn off, she thought, her relief oddly muted by disappointment. She struggled to her feet-and froze as something rustled behind her. Her wings lifted, spreading wide…
“Great Gardener,” she whispered.
“Well,” said Paul in a flat voice, “that solves one problem.”
Excitement rippled through Knife, making her lighter than air. She leaped from the floor and soared toward the ceiling, ducking the light fixture as she swooped past Paul into the corridor. Rolling and twisting, she tested her wings from every angle, then turned a somersault and pulled herself up to a hovering stop, giddy with delight.
Then she caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror. Her wings might have returned to her whole, but they had also changed. They seemed paler now, more fragile; less like paper, and more like glass. And now that the first thrill of flight had passed, she could feel that her wing muscles were not as strong as they had been. Already her shoulders ached, and keeping herself suspended in the air was an effort.
But even so, she was flying. And that meant that she was still the Queen’s Hunter, free to return to the Oak and take up her duties. It was more than she had dreamed possible, and as she spiraled down to land on the end of the banister, Knife smiled.
Paul smiled back, but his eyes remained somber, and Knife’s happiness drained away as she realized how he must feel. What would it be like to be broken beyond hope of healing, and have to watch someone else celebrate being made whole?
“Tell me,” she said quietly.
“Tell you what?” He swung the chair around and began rolling back toward his bedroom. Knife sprang into the air and followed.
“Back there,” she persisted as she landed on the top of the wardrobe, “at the pool. Why did you try to kill yourself?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“No,” said Knife. “And there are a few other things I don’t understand. Why won’t you talk to your parents? Are you angry at-”
“No!” He spun the chair away from her. Knife launched herself from the wardrobe and bounced onto the corner of his bed.
“Look at me!” she insisted.
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Maybe not, but you will.” She stalked to the edge of the mattress, as close to Paul as she could get without touching him. “I saved your life today. You owe me.”
“Fine. What do you want? More knife blades?”
“No.” Although the offer was tempting. “I want to understand.”
“Why? What difference does it make to you?”
“I don’t know!” Now it was her turn to shout, and Paul’s to wince. “I don’t know why I dove into that pool
