“I’ll save you a special helping of dessert,” Liv offered.

Piers groaned, and she was pretty sure she had him. She and Emma had waited until the guard was coming off duty, and caught him at the entrance to the barracks. He was still wearing his armor, a jack of plate in the white and green of Baron Henry’s heraldry, and he’d leaned his crossbow over his shoulder. “What do you even need it for?” he asked the two girls.

“I need to practice my magic,” Liv said, leaving the details vague. “I have permission from Master Mage Grenfell to do it inside the castle grounds, until the eruption is over. Anyway, you haven’t used any of those old shields for years. I’m surprised no one’s gotten rid of them.”

“They’re no good against modern crossbows,” Piers explained. “Since they started making the windlass models in the capital a few years back, there’s no point.” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I’ll loan the two of you a shield, under two conditions,” the guard decided. “First, I’m going to check with Master Grenfell when he gets back, so if you’re lying about having his permission, just understand he’s going to find out.”

“That’s fine,” Liv said. She was nearly completely certain that the older mage wouldn’t mind what she was doing, and that he might even approve. He’d told her to make a spell that wasn’t for killing things.

“Second,” the guard said, then paused. He looked around, found no one in earshot, and leaned down closer to Liv. When he spoke, he’d lowered his voice. “I want your help with Sophie.”

“Sophie?” Liv frowned. “Help how? Has she been mean to you?”

“No, nothing like that,” Piers said. “She just doesn’t seem to pay me much notice. I want you to find out what she likes, and tell me. What’s her favorite flower? What food does she like?”

“You’re sweet on her?” Liv burst out. Were they truly talking about the same girl? The one who always looked like she’d just bit into a lemon?

Piers shrugged, looking down at the ground. “I think she’s pretty,” he said.

At Liv’s side, Emma giggled. Liv couldn’t decide whether it would be better to give Piers what he wanted, or to warn him off before he found out what the grumpy maid was really like. On the other hand, it occurred to her, if Sophie was paying attention to someone courting her, perhaps she would have less time for bothering other people.

“You have a deal,” Liv said, extending her hand. A few moments later, she and Emma were walking away from the barracks, lugging a round wooden shield between them. It was a bit dusty, with visible rust on the metal rim, but Piers had assured her it was the best he could find. It was heavy, but if Liv hadn’t needed to manage the crutch at the same time, it wouldn’t have been so bad. As it was, she held it on one side, Emma on the other, and they had to put it down to rest twice before they made it to the castle gardens.

By the end of flood season, the gardens would be green and full of life, and come harvest the air would be heavy with the scent of herbs and fruits. At just the turn of the season, however, everything was still covered in snow and ice, and the slope of the gardens made for treacherous walking.

When Castle Whitehill had first been built, on the heights overlooking the Aspen River, the masons’ guild had to make compromises. Archibald had explained to Liv once that easily leveled ground was in short supply, and she recalled his words now as she explained to Emma.

“They need it to be flat in the courtyard, for instance,” Liv said, huffing and out of breath by the time they finally set down the shield at the highest point of the gardens. “For sleighs and carriages and things to come in and out. They need it flat in the training yard, where the guards practice. But they didn’t need the gardens flat, so they put them here.”

Below them, icy paths of stones wound down among boulders that had been left artfully arranged. The paths separated small plots of land, so that potatoes were grown in one place, onions in another, then sage, thyme, garlic, mustard and so on. There were even two small groves of trees set aside, branches lined with ice that sparkled in the sun: one for peaches, the other for apples.

“You said there was going to be magic,” Emma reminded her. “Not a stupid garden.”

“There will be,” Liv promised her, and retrieved a folded up piece of paper from where she’d stuffed it into the pocket she wore beneath her skirts. On one side was her work on the Frozen Shards spell; on the other were the notes she’d made before they set out to acquire the old shield.

Unlike Frozen Shards, this time Liv was starting from scratch. The base was her word of power, of course. The second piece had come from a list of shapes that Master Jurian had left her: Belia, which was the word for a bowl. Mac was an adjective that described a noun as particularly long and thin. Once she had those three pieces, the rest was just working through the conjugation and cases. She hoped.

Liv took a deep breath, held it, and released. When Master Grenfell had first started forcing her to perform the breathing exercises, she’d thought them pointless, but they really did help to calm her nerves now. After the third breath, she stretched out her hand and sung from her belly, allowing the sounds to vibrate through her, down to the blood and bones, as the magic moved.

“Celet Aimac Belia o’Mae.” The word roared up from the back of Liv’s mind like the river in flood, and poured out of her. Before she lost the feeling, Liv dropped to her knees, throwing aside her crutch, and touched the ground. Mana spilled out through her hand, freezing as it went, like a drop of water running down the side of a goblet and leaving a trail behind.

Within only the span of a few breaths, a long path of ice snaked its way down from the highest point of the garden, to the lowest, curving around trees and boulders. Rather than being flat, like the frozen river at the Frost Fair, the path was curved up at the sides, reaching two feet or more off the ground in some places. It was as if she had taken a bowl, melted it, and then stretched it with her hands.

Next to Liv, Emma clapped her hands and grinned. “Liv, that’s amazing,” she cried. “You’re a real mage!”

Liv dropped back onto her butt, breathing as heavily as if she’d run up and down the servants’ stairs five times. She tried to guess just how much of her mana she’d just used. Could she cast the same spell again? Maybe. If she did, however, she had a sneaking suspicion that she would pass out. Call it six rings of mana - that was half of what Master Grenfell had measured her at. She had the sense that if she’d used the spell for something smaller, it wouldn’t have been nearly so much.

“Now,” she said, once she could speak again. “Are you ready?”

Together, the two girls wrestled the shield, face down, onto the ice. Liv crouched over Emma, both of them griping the leather straps of the shield with one hand, and keeping hold of the ice itself with the other. “On three,” Liv said. “One. Two. Three!”

The girls pushed off the ice, and the shield shot off, fast as a crossbow bolt. Liv couldn’t help but scream as they went, careening down the ice to the first curve, where the shield nearly went up and over the outer edge. She needed to make the outside of the curves higher, Liv noted in the back of her mind. It was too late to do anything now; she’d just have to hope they made it safely down to the bottom.

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The shield spun as it came out of the first turn, and didn’t stop, so that Liv had to squeeze her eyes shut against a sudden wave of dizziness. Emma, on the other hand, never stopped laughing and squealing with joy. On the second turn, they came close enough to the lowest branches of a peach tree that Liv had to duck her head. Finally, the shield slid directly up the end of the ice with such great speed that, instead of slowing and sliding back down, they went right over the top and landed with a crash in the snow that covered a garden bed. Exhausted, sore, and thrilled, Liv rolled off the shield into the snow, unable to care that she was getting her clothes soaked.

“That was the best thing ever!” Emma shouted, leaping up off the shield and dancing around in the snow. “Again! Again!”

Liv raised her head and looked back up to where they’d begun, and realized that she’d left her crutch there. She groaned and let her head fall back into the snow.

☙

By the time the girls were wanted in the great hall for the midday meal with Lady Julianne, they had used the shield to slide down through the castle gardens at least half a dozen times. After being forced to half hop, half crawl her way back the first time, Liv had taken to sliding her crutch down the ice ahead of them, then picking it up at the bottom for the return trip. They lugged the shield back to the barracks, where they’d left it leaning against the outer wall, and then dragged themselves back into the keep. Liv was just getting Emma’s wet cloak off her when Lady Julianne, Master Cushing, and Sheriff Porter entered the hall.

“What in the name of the trinity has been going on here?” Cushing demanded.

“Liv used magic to put ice all down the gardens and then we rode a shield down! It spun us all around and we went so fast, it was amazing!” Emma shouted, bouncing up and down. Liv arranged their sopping cloaks near the great hearth, so that the wool could begin to dry out.

“Miss Brodbeck,” the chirurgeon began, rounding on her. “You know that you are too delicate for such things. You broke a leg falling down half a flight of stairs when you were seven,” he reminded her. “And your ankle has not even finished healing! Sit down and let me examine your bones.”

“I feel fine,” Liv said. “Maybe the special food is helping?” She found a seat at the table, however, and sat still while Master Cushing began feeling along her arms and legs for a break.

“It has been one month,” the old chirurgeon said. “If your ankle hasn’t had time to heal, do you really think your entire bone structure has changed? Don’t be foolish, girl. Does any of this hurt?”

“No,” Liv lied. She was pretty certain that she was only bruised: after the first run, they’d piled up an especially deep cushion of snow at their landing spot.

“Now that is settled,” Lady Julianne broke in, “how much of your mana did you keep in reserve?” The servants’ door opened, and the footmen began carrying in dish after dish of food, laying the first course out at the high table. A few of the knights who were not currently standing a watch on the castle walls began to filter in, finding places to sit at the lower tables.

“About half, I think,” Liv answered.

“Good.” Julianne nodded. “Eat a full meal, then, to help you recover. Make certain you have some of the garlic-crusted potatoes, here - I made certain your mother and Gretta would use the herbs Rhea brought over, so they’re infused with a bit of mana. None of that for you, Emma, just Liv and I. Liv, I’m making a rule for you right now, for the duration of the eruption: you’re free to experiment with your magic, so long as you don’t hurt yourself, anyone else, or break anything. But I don’t want you to ever use more than half your mana. Keep the rest ready in case you need it.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Liv said, watching as Tom spooned a great helping of the potatoes onto her plate. It felt very strange to have someone else serving her.

“Patients,” Master Cushing complained, settling in for his own meal. “Patients are what drives me to drink. The both of you. Lady Julianne, you should consider my suggestion again.”

“When my husband returns,” Julianne said. “I don’t have time right now.”

“You are already days overdue,” Cushing argued. “And your husband could be gone for a ten-day or more. If labor does not begin within two days, you need to let me perform surgery.”

“Four days,” Lady Julianne countered.

“Two,” Cushing shot back. “This is not a negotiation, it is your life, and the life of your child.”

“I can handle the guards,” Sheriff Porter said. Liv had noticed the man hardly ever spoke, unless he was asked a question directly. “The walls will hold, m’lady. Do not put yourself at risk.”

“We are all at risk until this eruption is over,” Julianne grumbled. “Fine. Two days. Liv, I am interviewing candidates to serve as my lady’s maid this afternoon. You will attend me.”

“I want to play with Liv more,” Emma complained.

“You,” Julianne said, “will go with Master Cushing for an examination, as long as you are here anyway. Until your father returns, I shall take my responsibility to him seriously. It is the least I can do while he is fighting for us. Aldo, you will inform me immediately if you find anything to be concerned about.”

“Yes, my lady,” the chirurgeon said.

“Sheriff, you have the command while I am conducting interviews,” Lady Julianne said.

The meal passed quickly after that, and Liv did find that the herbed potatoes helped her to feel a little more full. She went back for a second helping: if they were making it so that she recovered mana more quickly, then eating more would only speed things up. After everyone had finished, and the footmen began clearing the table, she followed Lady Julianne up to her sitting room.

“Come and sit next to me,” Julianne said, patting the cushioned bench. Emma’s bed was the only thing in the entire room that did not speak to wealth and luxury; Liv worried that the skirts she’d worn outdoors to play with Emma would stain the cushions, but the lady of the castle didn’t seem concerned. Even the candles were scented with spices!

“First Footman Archibald will bring one candidate up at a time,” Lady Julianne explained. “You will watch and listen. After each woman leaves, you will tell me your thoughts.”

“If you like, m’lady,” Liv said, but she didn’t understand why the baron’s wife would want her opinion, of all people.

“If you are going to be a mage,” Julianne explained, “you are going to need to judge people. Some can be trusted, and some cannot. The sooner you learn to notice which is which, the better.”

The process was tedious, and it took hours. Liv soon realized why Lady Julianne had set aside an entire afternoon for interviews, and even why she might have been avoiding the process until now. Frequently, Liv wished that she had brought her books, so that she could occupy her mind puzzling how to put a new spell together.

Instead, after every applicant, Lady Julianne quizzed her: “What did you notice about her clothes,” she might say, or “Think about the way she talked. What does that tell us?”

“The hem of her skirt was fraying,” Liv answered, describing a middle-aged woman named Meredith. “And the sleeves of her shift. They’re old.”

“And she would have worn her best here, today,” Julianne pointed out. “She’s desperate.”

“Does that mean you shouldn’t hire her?” Liv asked.

“That depends. Helping her now could earn her loyalty forever,” the baron’s wife mused. “Or, if she’s in great debt, she might be tempted to steal from us, like Bill did.”

To Liv’s surprise, Sophie was one of the women applying for the job. When she entered the room, their eyes met for an uncomfortable moment, and then Liv looked down at her lap. Afterward, when Lady Julianne asked her what she thought, she had a difficult time choosing what to say. Finally, she decided to just be honest.

“She hasn’t been very happy with me, lately,” Liv said. “I used to think she was nice, but she’s been jealous. Oh, and Piers, the guardsman? He likes her. He wants to court her, I think.”

“I can handle jealousy,” Julianne promised. “In fact, regardless of my decision, I will have a talk with her. I will not allow strife under my roof. Best to end trouble while it is small, before it becomes something greater. Next,” she called, and the door swung open again.

Liv gasped, then struggled to keep her expression blank. The girl who’d come through the door, and offered a perfect curtsy, was just a little older than she was, and skinny. Liv was certain that if her cap was removed, her hair would be cut very close to her head.

It was the girl she’d seen in an alley in the Lower Banks, talking to Little Whit and Bill.