I pause from blowing on my tea. “I appreciate the offer, High Priestess, but I don’t need it.” I shift in the chair, taking a sip of tea. “The snatchers will do what they always do. Liaise with the noble family and only inspect children under thirteen.”
Andromeda takes a slow sip. “I’ve seen a copy of your star chart from the Lunar Enclave. It seems you’re finally showing the gift that was promised.”
If the mug in my hand were glass, it would shatter under my grip. “That star chart was wrong. The Lunar Sisters made a mistake.”
I had believed the chart once, a long time ago. But I hadn’t allowed myself think about it for years. Whatever is happening to me now can’t be what was prophesied. This isn’t a gift. Feeling other people’s emotions is a burden. One that’s only getting worse.
Andromeda’s frustration doesn’t show on her face, but it’s there, brewing below the surface. “It doesn’t matter what you call it, Cassia. Gift, intuition, magic… It makes you a target.”
I chew on my lip, my hands still clamped tightly around the mug.
“Do you really think the snatcher will sense my…” I search for a word to use besides “magic”, "my intuition?”
“I wouldn’t offer you sanctuary otherwise.” Andromeda’s dark eyes bore into me.
I lift my chin under her gaze. “What about the children in the village? Does your sanctuary extend to them?”
The High Priestess shares a glance with Lucine. “The Sisters of Celestial Devotion cannot interfere with Governance procedures. Including snatcher inspections. We must appear to be acting in line with the Accords. You know this.”
I did. The sisters have remained neutral throughout history, never attempting to gain power, always content to advise the current rulers in exchange for their own autonomy.
I frown. “Why break the rules to offer me safety but not the children? I’m not one of you. There won’t be many others. There’s only one I know of. Timo, the Bryher’s boy.”
“We offer you safety because of your history with our sisters at the Lunar Enclave. And because you share our knowledge of the stars.”
I stand. “I consider the Sisters of Celestial Devotion my friends, High Priestess, but I won’t hide out here. As soon as the snatchers are gone, Gee and I will be leaving. She’s not well.” My voice tightens. “We need to head south where it’s warmer and I can get the supplies we need.”
Andromeda stands, too. She’s small, at least a head shorter than I am, but she looks formidable beneath her flowing, purple robes. She walks to a cabinet and pulls out a drawer. When she turns back, she holds out a gnarled root.
“Ginger,” she explains at my puzzled look. “For your grandmother. Brew it into a tea."
She exhales as she sinks back into her chair. Before I can thank her, she continues.
“You may bring the boy here. And any other children with magic. But it must be tonight. No later.”
“Lucine said it would be a few days before the Taiga Pass clears. There’s no other road they can take.”
“That may be so, but the stars tell me to act with haste. They give no further details.”
“But High Priestess–”
“You have the day to warn the villagers, Cassia. Return this evening, and we will protect anyone with you. You have my word.”
I tuck the ginger into my bag. If it means Timo will be safe from the snatchers, I can put off leaving Henling for a few days. I’ll have to run all this past Gee first, though.
“Thank you, High Priestess.” I hoist the book onto my hip.
Andromeda regards the leather-bound tome with narrowed eyes. “Is that one of our prized ephemerides, Cassia?”
“Lucine said I could borrow it…” I throw a sidelong glance at the sister still hovering by the door. “I’m supposed to do a reading for Lady Bryher.”
“You don’t usually ask permission,” the High Priestess replies, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “You may bring it back when you return tonight.”
I flash what I hope is a charming smile in return, before giving her a curtsey and heading toward the door.
“As above, so below,” she calls after me – the sisters’ prayer, as well as a greeting and farewell.
I echo the words over my shoulder, whisper goodbye to Lucine as I pass, then bound down the steps two at a time, my dark hair and cloak streaming behind me.
Cold air gnaws at my face as I hurry across the bridge and onto the snow-covered track leading to Henling.
The snatchers are coming.
The warning pounds through my mind like a drumbeat with each crunch of my boot in the snow. It’s urgent, like the cold, north wind pushing at my back, sending my cloak flapping around my ankles.
The snatchers are coming.
Lucine’s and Andromeda’s uneasiness fades with each step, like the darkness at dawn.
After walking briskly for several minutes, I slow my pace and look back up at the enclave. The towering spruces lining the track are dusted with a layer of snow, their tips lit by the rising sun. The turrets peek above the tree line, brown against the peach skies of morning. It doesn’t take an alchemist to figure out why the Sisters of Celestial Devotion chose this place for one of their enclaves. Besides the natural beauty, the aurora dances across the sky in a veil of unearthly greens each night.
I turn back to the path, pulling my cloak tightly around me.
My mind keeps returning to my own star chart, and the prophecy it contained. I hadn’t let myself think about it in so long, but what if it’s coming true? Hugging the ephemeris to my chest, I cross my arms to stop the icy wind from sending a chill up the sleeves and shake my head. I can’t think about that right now, I have more imminent things to worry about, like the snatchers.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and my pulse quickens.
I stop in my tracks. Adrenaline courses through me, along with the certainty I’m being followed.
No, not followed.
Stalked.
Behind me, the long track is completely empty, my prints the only set in the snow. I strain my ears. The forest birds are quiet, the wind roaring through the trees sounding like the ocean.
“There’s no one here,” I whisper, despite my hammering heart. The news about the snatchers has made me jittery, that’s all. The book starts to slip through my sweating palms, so I grip it tighter. Beneath my breeches, my calves twitch.
I ignore every one of my instincts telling me to run. To scramble off of the path and out of sight. My eyes dart around. The feeling someone is close by and hunting me presses deep in my gut.
Suddenly, searing pain slams into my shoulder blade. The impact sends me flying into the snow, screaming. Agony lances through my body. It is so great, I can barely roll my head to one side to suck in a breath.
Someone shot me.
My heart thumps in my chest, then slows. Hot blood trickles down my neck and into the snow around me. The ground at eye level is too white, blinding.
The pain fades.
Is this it? My heart gives a thud, as if in answer.
Arms shaking, I press up to a sitting position. I reach over my shoulder and touch my back. No pain, no blood. The white snow surrounding me is disturbed, my book and bag sitting just out of reach, but there’s no blood.