“I suppose.” She wasn’t entirely sure if it was just a ritual. Through all her lessons, the importance of the dedication taking place on her birthday had been driven home to her, though no one had offered an explanation other than tradition and the fact that the goddess demanded it. Still, it was enough to make her uneasy. She hadn’t been at court the last time a royal witch had been dedicated, so she hadn’t ever seen the ritual in person. Women outside the nobility who manifested went to their local temples, but they seldom showed any real degree of power. Seed witches, able to coax plants to prosper, perhaps, but nothing more.
“I’m sure we can find a chapel if it comes to that,” the lieutenant said. He laid his armful of wood down in the middle of the clearing and began separating it into smaller and larger branches.
“If you think someone is looking for us, is a fire safe?”
He looked up. “I can build it small and do a thing or two to shield the smoke. It may not get too cold tonight, so maybe we can do without, but it’s easier to prepare it now than in the dark.” He continued sorting the wood as he spoke, moving with an ease that spoke of having done it many times. If she had to be hiding in the woods with somebody, a soldier was at least useful. She wouldn’t have had any idea how to build a fire outside, let alone light one without matches or magic.
And he was right. It was cooler here than it had been in the capital but still not cold. Perhaps she should have been thankful that they hadn’t traveled farther north into Carnarvan. “We need food.”
“Think you’d keep it down?”
She flushed. “It was the portal. I’ll be fine in a moment.”
He studied her a moment. “We’ll see. If you are sure you can eat, I can go looking. There should be berries at least. Maybe some mushrooms.”
“If the stream gets any deeper farther on, there might be fish,” she offered.
“But no rod,” he pointed out. “And no, I won’t be shooting anything. The noise would draw attention.”
“I have pins in my purse,” Sophie said. “And thread.”
“Pins?” He looked surprised. “Can you make a fish hook from a pin?”
“I used to fish with my little brothers,” Sophie said. “So, yes. I have pins because you never know when you might need to pin a hem or something at court,” she continued as explanation. The other things in her purse—smelling salts, packets of herbal powders for headaches and such, and tiny vials of perfume and rouge—were unlikely to be helpful. When she got back to the castle, she would start carrying matches, too, she decided. Though maybe, if her magic came, she would be able to call a candle flame as some of the royal witches could.
“All right. Make your hook whilst I finish the fire, and then I’ll see where the stream leads. If you promise to stay put.”
“Where would I go?” she asked, feeling suddenly very lost as the truth of those words struck home. She was dependent on him and his good graces, at least for another day. Her eyes stung suddenly, and she blinked and ducked her head as she slipped her hand through the slit in the side of her skirt to reach her purse where it hung between her skirt and the first layer of petticoats.
“What are you thinking about?”
Sophie came back to herself with a start. “Yeast cakes.” It was dark now, and the lieutenant had made a very small fire to cook the single fish he’d caught with her makeshift line. That, with the berries he’d also found, had been a paltry meal. Not enough when she’d lost everything she’d eaten earlier in the day.
The lieutenant chuckled, a low rumbling sound in the darkness. “Yeast cakes?”
“Yes,” she said, staring down at the last few berries in her lap with distaste. She’d never been overly fond of blackberries. But she was too hungry to waste any. “The one Cook at the castle makes. With the glaze.” Her stomach rumbled at the memory.
“I always preferred the spiced pear tarts,” he said, dropping another small branch on the fire.
Sophie bit into another berry, chewed, then swallowed, the faint acidic sweetness lingering on her tongue. “The tarts are good, too, but yeast cakes are my favorite. Hot, just cooked. I used to go down to the kitchen sometimes to fetch some for the princess, and Cook would give me one straight from the pan.” Her appetite died when she realized Cook might well be dead or captured. Shivering, she moved closer to the tiny fire. Stupid to worry about food when she didn’t know if her family was alive.
“Milady? Are you cold?”
She wrapped the cloak more tightly around herself, welcoming the warmth. The lieutenant had been correct in his predictions. It wasn’t a cold night, but her skin was cool. “It’s nothing.” It did no good to share her thoughts with him. He had friends and family in the castle, too. And his fellow soldiers. If anyone was in the line of danger, it would be the Red Guard. Besides which, he probably wanted to be back there, doing his duty instead of hiding in the woods protecting her.
He was a battle mage. His magic was meant for fighting. He was probably feeling as frustrated as her.
Or maybe not. He at least could do useful things like make a fire. He could protect them with his magic if he had to. Whereas she was helpless. Even if she manifested power, she would still be limited.
“Why do women only get taught earth magic?” she asked, staring at the flames, hoping he wouldn’t read the curiosity in her face.
“Some women learn other magics.”
She knew prevarication when she heard it. The polite tone of “don’t pursue this.” Well, goddess curse it. She was in the woods, maybe being hunted, and she wanted to know. There was no time for polite. “Not royal witches.”
“No,” he agreed.
“Why not?”
He shrugged, the firelight glinting off the gold braid on the shoulder of his jacket. “I never really thought about it. Tradition?”
She snorted. “That’s not an answer.” Turning, she looked him in the eye.
He frowned. “Earth magic is the deepest. The closest to the goddess. Why do you need more?”
“If earth is deepest, why do men use other magics in battle?”
“It’s hard to defeat someone by raining on him. That doesn’t mean earth is weaker; it just has different uses.”
“You could strike someone with lightning.”
“Milady, no one has been strong enough to call lightning in a very long time.”
“That’s my point. Why not teach royal witches the other magics?”