Page 73 of Homeward for a Spell

Araphi

Children of all ages swarm around Araphi, shouting, laughing, and calling out to one another. It’s mid-morning on a lovely late-winter day, and she’s seated in the village hall, in a carved chair in front of the fireplace. Two windows on one side of the room show the icy face of the Kald Mountains, but the sky outside is robin’s-egg blue and sunlight glints off the snow. The windows are no longer frosted, as they’ve been all winter, and it’s positively toasty by the fire. Araphi holds her lute and her voice is a bit hoarse from singing. Somehow, Children’s Singing Hour, a fun evening pastime Araphi started months ago, has now become a regular three-times-a-week morning event. She enjoys it very much, though it’s exhausting.

“Sing us another one, Phi!” calls out Pyla, a tiny girl with two straw-colored braids curled and pinned into knots on her head.

“We’ve been here half the morning already!” Araphi strums the lute, playing a teasing little run of notes. “Shouldn’t you be doing your chores?”

“No! Momma said we could stay with you until lunch if we wanted.” Pyla crosses her arms. “And that’s what we want!”

“Play ‘The Wheel and the Whaler’!” shouts Tim, a ten-year-old with light-brown skin and a head of curls.

“No! I want to hear ‘Cheese for Me, Please,’ ” Alba, Pyla’s twin, suggests.

“Not that one, Alba! We’ve heard it twice already!”

Their words pull Araphi back to spirited evenings at her own family’s table. Not the formal dinners they would have with her Aunt Menorath and Uncle Baremon, but the dinners that were just for them. The ones that felt the most at ease. Her mother would sit at the head of the table, between her two fathers, and all Araphi’s brothers and sisters would sit along the sides of the table, laughing, telling stories, and fighting to be heard. It was a familiar, delightful chaos, and the kind Araphi felt the most at home in.

She feels the pang of missing them, brief but sharp. She doesn’t miss being the Clauneck heir, or the thought of marrying Denby, but there’s part of her that misses her parents and her siblings.

What must they think has happened to her? She was supposed to be going to a spa for a few weeks, and now it’s been nearly four months, though it hardly seems it. Each day here in Arkney has slipped, one into the next, full of fighting lessons with Sage, cooking and some magical lessons with Wren, and a hundred other things. Time has seemed a magical, cozy thing that’s made space for her and Sage to just rest in together. And Clauneck being shut out of her head all these months has made it even easier to not worry about her family, her responsibilities, and everything waiting for her back in Ashaway.

She’ll have to consider them soon enough, she knows.

“Play ‘Stormy Seas’!” a familiar voice calls out from the back of the hall. Araphi looks up to see Sage walking into the room, two steaming cups of tea in hand.

Warmth floods through Araphi. Sage’s injured knee is fully healed, given proper time and care, and there’s an ease to her movements. She’s relaxed over the last few months in Arkney, and she’s no longer the wary, always-alert ranger Araphi first met.

“Sage!” Tim shouts. “I got a new bow! Want to see me shoot it?”

Not to be left out, Pyla and Alba stand up. “We want to learn sword fighting. Please, Sage?”

Sage grins at the children as they run up to her, peppering her with questions. She calls out greetings to them all and hands Araphi one of the cups of tea.

“Honey, lemon, and mint, as you prefer, Bard.”

Gratefully, Araphi takes a sip. “My favorite, thank you. My voice can use a break.”

“I figured as much. We have to talk.” Sage’s smile falls just a bit.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Fear fills Araphi. Have they been found? Is something wrong? A dozen old worries—all things she’s forgotten during their peaceful stay in Arkney—rise to the surface.

Sage leans down and whispers, “I just heard from Wren. The snowfall has stopped south of us and the passes are melting.”

“How long do we have until they’re clear?”

“Three days at the most,” Sage says. “Wren tells me that once the melt starts, it goes quickly. Like spring can’t wait to arrive.”

Araphi swears under her breath and takes a long sip of tea. As the sweet, fragrant liquid slides down her throat, she swallows back the tears that have risen with Sage’s news.

The passes are melting, which means their time in Arkney is nearly done. Which means her and Sage’s perfect little interlude of happiness is nearly over.

Today is their last day together in Arkney.

It’s Araphi’s first thought when she wakes, and she sits up, looking around the room she shares with Sage. The space beside her in the bed is empty, and there’s a note on Sage’s pillow.

A—

Gone to work in the greenhouse, and then I’ll get our horses sorted for the journey. Meet me at the pond for one last walk around the village?