Inkmistress (Of Fire and Stars 0.5)(6)

No one but Miriel knew I was a bloodscribe. Not even Ina.

I passed Ina the bread on a plate with a jar of honey and some butter and sat down across from her, my own stomach now uneasy, too.

“Please, Asra. If there’s anything you can do, it would mean so much. Our village might depend on this.” The desperate note in Ina’s voice tugged at the part of me that would do anything for her. But it wasn’t my place to interfere. Manifests belonged to the gods. They were the only powerful magic the gods granted to mortals other than the monarch.

“Have you settled on the animal you wish to take? Or have the gods provided any guidance at all?” I asked. In a kingdom where the throne was always won by combat to the death, strength mattered, even in small settlements like Amalska. Village elders—and our monarch—always manifested as creatures that inspired respect. Or fear. Usually both. Affinities for certain animals or gods seemed to often run in families, as much gifts of blood as choice.

“I tried the bear, like my father, and the puma, like my mother, but I don’t feel an affinity for them—or anything else—no matter what I try,” she said, her voice nearly breaking with frustration.

“Then they must not be the right animals,” I said. We’d already discussed this the summer before, though she hadn’t been as anxious about it then.

“I know they’re not. I’ve prayed to all the gods, but none of them have spoken to me or sent me any signs. I have so many plans for our village, so many things I want to do if I’m able to earn elder status.” She spread the butter on her bread with such force she almost tore a hole through it.

“Like marry a boy you barely know?” I said, my tone flat. I thought I mattered to her more than that. In the dark of winter nights, I had even occasionally let myself dream of asking for her hand and building a family, perhaps taking in orphans from our own or other villages since I couldn’t have children of my own, thanks to my hybrid nature.

“You know I never thought about marriage. Mostly I want to protect and grow our village. Maybe if my animal form is powerful enough, we won’t have to make the alliance with Nobrosk. Maybe there will be enough of us to fight off the bandits ourselves.” Her voice rose with hope.

I looked up. Was she saying what I thought she was?

“And will you still marry Garen, if it isn’t necessary?” I asked. I shouldn’t have let my willingness to help her depend on it when the remaining lives in the village might be at stake, but I needed the answer.

“Perhaps not,” she said, setting down the remains of her bread and taking my hand. Her slender fingers wove together with mine, her touch and her words filling me with uncertainty. I couldn’t tell what she wanted. Maybe she didn’t even know.

“I’m going to need some time to think about all this,” I said. Her return had brought light back to my life and just as quickly plunged me into deeper darkness.

“Of course. I’ll appreciate anything you can do. You’ve always been so good to me, and I wanted to ask someone I trusted, someone who might have other ideas besides telling me to pray or fast or go outside naked and howl with the wolves.” She rolled her eyes.

“Surely no one suggested that.” My mouth twitched in the barest hint of a smile.

“I just want to have a say over my own future. If I don’t manifest, I’ll never be able to become an elder. I won’t be able to do anything to protect Amalska from bandits. I can’t watch my family and my village suffer.” Passion darkened the sapphire of her eyes.

I knew what she meant, because my protectiveness of her was equally fierce. I also understood what it was like to want a choice over one’s own future—not that I’d ever had one. It was fairly rare for someone not to manifest eventually, but she was definitely overdue.

“I’m not sure there’s anything I can do,” I said. It wasn’t entirely true, but I didn’t want to give her false hope. Besides the arcane ritual Miriel had told me about, I knew only one other way to help Ina; I could dictate her fate and write her manifestation in my blood. The thought made me shudder.

“I should go before it gets much colder,” Ina said, her voice gentle. “I’ll come back soon. I want every moment with you I can get. At least until I manifest . . . if that ever happens.”

“And if you don’t?” I asked, my voice hardly more than a whisper.

“I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll take up sewing undergarments, like the last girl in our village who failed to manifest,” she said. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. As always, she took a lighthearted tone when she most wanted to hide her fear. My heart ached. She cared for her people and deserved whatever life she wanted.

Last summer she’d told me about her ambitions for Amalska—a multi-village midsummer trade festival, a better network of messengers for winter, and ideas about how we might export lake ice to the south or even into the kingdom of Mynaria in the west. She was too bold and passionate to be content on the outskirts of town, relegated to second-class citizenry without a manifest.

I packed a canvas bag for her, carefully wrapping the tinctures in cloth to protect them.

“Garen must return to Nobrosk with my answer to his proposal as soon as the roads clear,” Ina said as she pulled on her indigo cloak.

“That can’t be more than another week or two,” I said, feeling faint. Snow would melt sooner in the valley than it did up here. I needed to buy myself a little more time. “Promise me you won’t make a decision before the next community meeting. Come back before then and I’ll have some ideas about how to help you.”