“I have fire.”
He was picking up a large stick as he spoke. “Yes, but you should learn to think more openly, it is an important resource and should be familiar to you. You should have years of experience by now.”
“Why don’t I?” He stopped. I could tell by his expression he hadn’t meant to say so. I didn’t know if he would answer. “Why can’t I use magic?” I clarified. “Why couldn’t I use it before?”
Another long pause. And then he spoke carefully. “You were bound.”
Bound? I was speechless as I thought of the young children playing in the village, binding themselves to play the games of fairy children, unmagical until coming of age. I recalled seeing it in the documents in the briar patch, Francine Glaforia, bound against using all but practical magic. They must have known not to trust me. They must have known. My knees gave out and I crumpled to the ground. How many times could the earth pulled from beneath my feet? Chevelle took a step toward me and I held up a hand to stop him. Bound against using magic. Assigned a watcher. My anger toward him returned. A volunteer watcher. “Let’s just go,” I said coldly, looking up the mountain as I stood and walked to my horse.
We rode wordlessly up the mountain as I considered all I had learned. He was my watcher, he would have been involved in the binding. Yes, maybe Fannie should have been punished for whatever she had done, but why assume I would follow? So I killed a bird, stole a few papers from the council library. My arguments were thin so I went back to anger. How could he lie to me? The entire village must have known I was bound, known I couldn’t perform magic, just as they sat and watched me try. Sending me to Junnie for lessons. Evelyn’s sour melodic voice rang in my ears. Poor Frey.
The horses were stopping and I was irritated I hadn’t learned to lead them yet. Chevelle stepped down and started a fire. He walked away and I thought of what he had said earlier in the day, that you could stop someone’s heart. I wondered if that was how he killed his prey. He was already making his way back, carrying two small rabbits and a branch covered in some sort of blood-red berries. I sulked over to the fire and plopped down on a small rock. I watched him prepare the meal without speaking but I couldn’t tell if he was sorry and intended to give me my space or just indifferent. I silently wished Steed was here to build me a shelter so I could lock myself away until tomorrow. I wasn’t about to try to build one on my own and risk embarrassing myself in front of Chevelle.
I glanced from him to the cooking meat, and then the flames licking up from below. They writhed and jumped, forming shapes that pulled at my thoughts. I tried to think but I couldn’t seem get my thoughts to work right. I could remember my dreams. I could remember the wind and fire in my dreams, surrounding my mother. But the memories that came back when I woke from the vivid dreams were dull and so hard to grasp. Each time I tried to clear them they drew back from me. They were fuzzy and refused to cooperate.
As recognition dawned on me I jumped from the rock and cursed Chevelle. He turned to me with his standard composed expression. “Give it back!” I yelled. He was baffled but I was so angry I was having trouble forming the demand. “Give my memories, my mind back!” The confusion cleared, but he didn’t offer a response. I could feel the fire itching to burn him. I seethed. “Unbind my thoughts.”
“Freya.” His voice was calm and smooth. “You don’t understand.”
I fumed, “Well, I’m sure that has nothing to do with you rummaging around in there.”
He calmly shook his head and I realized it was possible he couldn’t free my thoughts. Surely, the council had bound me, likely all of them would need to reverse it. I couldn’t ask, I was too furious to pursue a conversation with any kind of composure. I let out a guttural growl and clenched my jaw shut.
I considered running back to the village. But how could I get council to release me?
And then I looked down the mountain. I didn’t even know how to get back to the village. Damn it, damn it, damn it. I stared at my palms, I didn’t know where I was going either.
Low on options, I forced myself to allow the anger to settle a few notches. Maybe I would be able to remember more with the dreams, with the mountains, with wherever my family’s map was taking me. I could see no other way but the course we were on.