Three weeks had passed since Grandmama’s arrival, and the cabin had settled into an uneasy rhythm. Mama stood next to the cooking pot, throwing in herbs, turnips, and potatoes. The fire beneath burned low, the water barely warm.

Faline watched from the doorway, then brightened with an idea. She’d been watching Grandmama these past weeks, listening when the old woman muttered to herself. Yesterday, she’d seen her warm her hands by breathing a word over them, and steam had risen from her gnarled fingers.

“Mama, look what I can do,” Faline announced, approaching the pot.

Wiping grayish blond strands away from her face, Mama turned her tired and careworn face toward her eight-year-old daughter. “Yes, little one, what is it?”

Faline stuck a finger into the pot. “Kah-kooz.”

The water stirred and bubbled, tendrils of steam rising from it. Heat spread through the pot, and within moments it was boiling vigorously. She looked to Mama, smiling, proud of what she’d learned.

But Mama’s face had gone white. Her mouth opened, then closed. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Where did you learn that?”

The tone made Faline’s smile falter. “Uh, I heard Grandmama use it.”

Mama’s gaze shifted to the corner of the room, where the wizened mass of hair and wrinkled skin squatted over a pisspot. The glare from Mama’s eyes was narrow and full of something that looked like terror, but shifted back to her daughter quickly.

A hand darted out, seized Faline’s long blond braid, and twisted.

The pain was excruciating. “Stop, you’re hurting me!”

“I’ll do more than that if you ever repeat anything that old hag says. Do not listen to her, and never do this again. Do you understand me? Never!”

“But why—” Faline started to say, but Mama’s other hand struck her face in a stinging rebuke.

The hand in her hair twisted and shook her head in doll-like fashion. “Do what you are told, or I will break your neck. Magic is evil. It brings only suffering and death. Look what it did to her!” She jerked her chin toward Grandmama. “Do you want to end up like that? Used and broken and dying?”

“No, Mama,” Faline muttered, tears staining her cheeks.

Mama released her hair and shoved her toward the door. “Go fetch water from the stream. I have to start over.” She dumped the boiling pot out the door, the scalding water hissing as it hit the cold ground. “And stay away from that creature in the corner.”

Faline ran from the cabin, her face burning, her scalp aching. She didn’t understand. The magic had worked. She’d helped. Why was Mama so angry?

From the doorway, she heard Grandmama’s scratchy voice, pitched just loud enough to carry. “Fear makes monsters of us all, Corrine. Even of little girls trying to help their mothers.”

“Shut your mouth, strega.”

Faline ran faster, the bucket banging against her leg. But even through her tears and confusion, a small seed of something took root. Mama had called it evil. But it had felt… powerful. And power, Faline was beginning to understand, was something she had very little of in this house.

* * *

Two days later, Mama’s anger still simmered beneath the surface. Faline had been careful, so careful, to do exactly as she was told. But it wasn’t enough.

“Go beat the covers,” Mama directed, pointing toward the sleeping quarters.

“What about—” Faline began.

Mama gritted her teeth. “Oh, for goodness sake, even the one that old witch uses. I’m not having nits just because of her.” Shoving Faline out of the way, she slipped out the door. “I must go help the Svensons with their baby.” The door slipped shut behind her.

Faline gathered the covers from her parents’ sleeping area and her own, then stood at the corner of the old stable area, now Grandmama’s sleeping area. The space was cramped, dark, and smelled of age and sickness.

Steeling herself, Faline ran through what to do. Grab the cover and dart out again. If she were lucky, Grandmama would not be in there but rather off on one of her solitary forays into the woods. Why the old woman insisted on doing this was a mystery, but it gave everyone relief from her presence.

After a quick breath, Faline darted through the opening to the sleeping area. Thankfully, Grandmama’s bed was empty. She grabbed the animal hide cover and, with several tugs, pulled it loose from the straw-filled bunk.

When she turned, her heart sank. Grandmama stood in the doorway.

“Come here, little one,” Grandmama said, motioning her closer. The look in her eyes was intense, hungry—but not in the way Mama’s stories described. It was the hunger of someone who’d found something precious they thought lost forever.

The large woman nearly filled the opening, except for a narrow space between her ankles that her dress did not cover. Was there enough space to squeeze through? Did she dare try? “I need to get these blankets outside.”

“In time, in time. Come here and let me have a good look at you.”

Faline glanced around, seeking some other alternative, but knowing it was nothing more than the fantasy of desperation. Mama’s slap still burned in her memory. Stay away from that creature.

“I won’t hurt you.”

But Mama had hurt her. Papa ignored her. And this old woman had taught her something amazing, even if Mama said it was evil.

Still, fear won. Faline threw the cover aside and dove for the floor between Grandmama’s legs. Legs and arms thrashing, she belly crawled.

Thump. The hard tip of Grandmama’s cane lanced into her shoulder blade, pinning her to the ground. A gnarled hand slapped down on her face, fingers spreading across her forehead.

“Eepsoom Revelahree.”

A wave of sensation radiated from where the hand touched her—not quite pain, but intense, overwhelming. It flowed to her fingers and toes, then rushed back again like a tide. Her heart hammered like a drumbeat in her ears. Breath disappeared from her lungs. The world went white, then dark, then filled with colors she’d never seen before. She felt connected to something vast and ancient, a current flowing through everything—the earth, the air, the old woman’s hand.

And then it was gone.

An anguished cry escaped from above her—from Grandmama—and the force pinning her to the floor disappeared. After a moment, Faline skittered to her feet and ran. At the cabin door, she stopped and glanced back the way she’d come. No one was there. The old woman must still be in the sleeping area.

Pausing at the door, hand upon the handle, she listened. Ragged sobbing drifted through the air. Despite wanting to escape, doubt coursed through her. Had she injured the old woman? Papa would be furious. Perhaps she should check.

Walking slowly on the balls of her feet, she stole closer. The sobbing sounds grew stronger as she approached the opening. Peeking through, Grandmama slumped against the wall, eyes closed, tears streaking across her cheeks. One hand clutched white-knuckled on her cane, the other pressed against her chest.

“Grandmama?”

The eyes opened—watery, exhausted, but gleaming with something like triumph. “I shouldn’t have done it. I am sorry, but I had to know.”

“Had to know what?”

“Whether you had the gift or not. Whether there was still time.”

Faline studied her, heart still racing from whatever had just happened. “Time for what?”

“To pass it on before I’m gone completely.” Grandmama extended her hand, trembling. “Help me up, and I will answer you.”

No. Faline stood rooted. That hand had just done something to her, something that felt like being turned inside out.

The old woman smiled crookedly. “You needn’t worry. I can only hurt myself in the condition I am in. That spell—it took more from me than I expected. I will do nothing to you without your permission. I swear it on the Old Ways.”

Perhaps the old woman was right; she looked pathetic, smaller somehow, as if the spell had shrunk her. Faline took her hand and pulled. Grandmama creaked upright and took a breath, wincing.

“Thank you, little one.” She turned away, leaning heavily on her cane.

“Wait,” Faline said. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you found?”

The old woman turned. Her eyes, though tired, were sharp as ever. “You have the gift. More than that, you have it strong. Stronger than I did at your age. Stronger than anyone I’ve known.” She coughed, a wet, rattling sound. “But it’s raw, untrained. Dangerous.”

“Is that bad?”

A bitter laugh escaped Grandmama’s lips. “Bad? No, child. It’s everything. It’s power. It’s freedom. It’s the difference between being prey and predator in this world.” She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “But your mother would see you broken before she’d see you use it. She’d let them take you, as the Red Robes took me, and drain you dry.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because she’s afraid. Fear makes people cruel, little one. Remember that.” Grandmama waved her along. “Go on, get your chores done before that idiot mother of yours returns. But come find me tonight, after they sleep. We have much to discuss, and not much time.”

“Time for what?”

“To decide if you want to be powerless forever, or if you want to learn what you truly are.”

Faline picked up Grandmama’s bed cover and placed it with the rest. Her hands trembled slightly. What did it mean to have the gift? And why did she keep saying there wasn’t much time?

Through the window, she spied her mother leaving the Svenson’s cabin. With a grunt, she grabbed the pile of animal hides and tottered toward the door. Chores had to be done.

But tonight, she would find Grandmama. She would learn what she was.

Even if it meant going against everything Mama said.