... Still alive. Breathe.

Elodie felt frigid air rush into her lungs. Her hands twitched reflexively, and she found they were buried in crunchy snow mixed with damp soil. Barren trees huddled together in a biting wind that blew like a group of women sharing gossip in the cold. Elodie spat and spluttered, trying to find her breath but never quite filling her chest.

Up.

She obeyed, pushing herself up to a sitting position. Memories flooded in. The hallway with Braum, the crash of open windows. Ice and magic swirling around her, streaks of ice snapping backward into-

"Ann! Where's Ann? Is she-"

Not here.

"Then where-"

Elodie's stupor cleared, only to be replaced by a new wave of confusion. The trees around her were a green so deep it was almost black, and the sky was a vast empty maw with dots of stars along it. A tundra stretched around her, and above her icicles tiredly sagged on leafless branches. There wasn't a house, castle, or farm in sight, just an empty plateau of ice and broken trees. Elodie didn't know of any place in the valley that looked like this.

Dreams are a place where the line between expression and reality is thinner. The voice warbled, still her own, but like it was overlayed with another, much thinner, masculine voice. We can visit here.

"I'm dreaming?"

Our minds are connected now that there is a spark. Think of it as a shared dream.

Elodie pushed herself to her feet, shivering with the cold. She was sure now that this wasn't the valley. Dream or not, it was emptier. Deader. Lonelier.

Not all hells are paved with fire.

"Please," she pleaded, "I'm so tired of riddles and snow. Sparks, orations, dreams- say whatever it is I'm meant to learn plainly."

Her boots punched holes into the snow as she tried to walk toward where she thought the voice was coming from. Her boot slid forward on one step, just enough to throw her off balance, but she righted herself. She continued, but the next step, she was more unsure.

It is our nature to be evasive. That is a muse.

Elodie's lips curled in a snarl as her boot dug downwards, lodging itself in a rut between ice and a root. It didn't hurt, but it stopped her momentarily as she had to attempt to free it. Her vision blotted as arms wrapped around her from behind. On the end of them were black hands that came to pointed tips, one going over her face and the other wrapping around her stomach. Tiny flecks of blackened cinders flecked away from their skin, and Elodie could smell ash mixed with pine resin as the hand pressed down on her face. She was too shocked to scream.

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She was lifted in the air by the hands, out of the rut, but not released afterward. We will work together if we are to survive. It would be best if you learned how to use it. Elodie struggled against the figure, trying to push the arms away, but they held her in a cage of darkness.

The first step is to cease struggling. Oration is not a wound; it is a tool.

Elodie bit down hard on the meatier part of the hand's palm, teeth sinking in just below the thumb. Black, viscous liquid dripped from the skin onto her hair and dress below. The taste was a bitter sap, and she coughed to spit it out.

The bitten hand twitched, then clamped down even harder. Teeth are an animal's tools. The voice sounded exasperated, like a hunter scolding their misbehaving dog. Explanations come if struggling ceases.

She saw little clouds sputtering out of her mouth from how hot her breath was in her anger and effort. Yet, seeing no other way, Elodie went limp.

Good.

For a moment, Elodie focused on slowing her breath. She had a concentrated rage in her eyes, but she willed it to calm. Good, the voice repeated. From what she could see now, the blackened color was a gradient up solid, strong arms, leading to a paler shade up from that. The figure's grip held her in place so firmly that she couldn't see more. Elodie relaxed even further until she was docile as wet paper, and in return, the hand on her face loosened enough for her to talk.

"Please."

To her surprise, the figure moved her closer, but more gently this time. The voice said, We are not enemies, but we are not friends. We want the same thing- or we will, in time. We protect each other. Me through magic. You through command. We keep this pact our own, no outsiders. The edges of their claws tickled on her skin, like being on the edge of a knife. Their skin was smooth and soft but unusually cold to the touch, chilled where it should have been warm.

"My command?"

Request, if that is easier for you to say. It is the same to us. But you must orate.

Elodie's thoughts went to Ann, splayed upon the ground, unmoving like the sheep this morning. Red geraniums of blood clouded her mind, and in this dreamscape, a small cluster of red flowers began to bloom at her feet. Your body won't be able to hold its muse if you don't express it, this voice had said back in the hallway.

"You're ... a muse, my magic. And if I don't tell the ... muse ... what to do with an oration ... it expresses itself to keep me from dying." Sweat began to form on the side of her face. That meant this being caused her to attack the sheep and hurt Ann.

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It would be best if you spoke very precisely, orator. She could hear the smile in the voice- the voice that still mixed with her own- even without seeing the face.

"But I said to take the magic away! I did speak! I didn't say to hurt Ann-" Elodie paused, realization hitting her without the figure needing to say anything. Her voice was thinner, strained. "No ... wait. I didn't. I said to take it away."

It seemed to Elodie for a moment there was a stillness in the world where the winds receded, and they stood in the cold, two figures alone in a field of ice.

We are not enemies, the voice repeated, but we are not friends.

They were an orator and her muse.

Elodie put her hands up to the arm on her face and tugged, but they wouldn't budge. "Then we will become friends because I don't want to lose control of myself again. To begin with-" She felt little tears forming at the corners of her eyes, but she fought to keep them down. She was tired of crying and confusion and cold. She could make this decision herself. "-my name is Elodie Auclair. And I will use your magic. But right now, I want to see Ann. I need to know she's okay. Let me leave."

Good. Only call, and I will express your will.

* * *

The red geraniums remained in the tundra snow, the only bright color for miles. The clawed hand reached down and plucked one from the earth.

Curious. Elodie Auclair.

* * *

When Elodie awoke, it was in an unfamiliar bed with soft, white goat furs. Above her, the bed had a high frame that gentle diaphanous curtains billowed around. Her head ached, and cracking open her eyes split her skull anew. The pillow beneath her head was plush, and someone had taken care to tuck the blankets around her shoulders. She craned her body just enough to sit up.

A husky voice to her right said, "Go let Alden know she's awake. If he's not already with Braum, let him know, too." There was the sound of footsteps leading away. Elodie turned to see Luta sitting on a wooden stool, a small tray squat next to her on a table with different medicinal-smelling salves and powders. Her smile was giddy, and her box braids fell gently over her shoulder as she turned back to face Elodie. "Take it easy, move slow."

Elodie looked around what appeared to be a small sick bay. It had a cloistering of beds, some supply shelves, and the heady smell of herbs. Empty hanging pots sat on the edges of the window, and several vines clung to the frames, the last holdouts of winter. To her right, Ann lay in a similar bed to her own, and Elodie's heart squeezed. Her arm was the color of a muddy, gray puddle from her bicep down to the tips of her fingers. Her fingernails were little white crescents reflected on the water's surface at night.

"She's alive, and from what we can tell, her arm is working, although it causes her a little pain to use it. No signs of sores." Elodie turned back to the chief advisor. Luta Brunde was a woman built like a brick wall, with dense muscles and a stubborn brow. She had a matronly demeanor, though Elodie thought she recalled that Luta was only a few years older than the Prince. Elodie also recalled that Luta was a bit different from other nobles; where most had their title from a hereditary origin, Luta had been hand-selected by the Prince for her role.

Luta set the papers on her side table and scooted her stool closer to Elodie's bed with a soft scraping noise against the floor. "How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts a little," Elodie confided.

Luta offered a small cup to Elodie, asking, "Thirsty?" Elodie nodded and took the cup, and sipped from it.

"Now make sure you're sitting back on the pillow for this one: you've both been asleep nearly two days," Luta said, "Your aide woke up once, but she's fallen back under now." Elodie looked back over at Ann.

"Is it causing her pain?"

"A little," Luta admitted, and Elodie immediately liked her for her honesty. "She's tough as nails, though. We're all more worried about you, Elodie."

"Me?"

Luta reached a hand out to take Elodie's empty cup, which Elodie obliged. As Luta set it on the side table, she said, "Yeah, Miss magic, you. You passed out on the floor in a heap twice in a day. You damn near stopped your heart with this one."

"Oh."

"Scared Braum half to death, both of you. As his advisor, I'd say to take it easy on the poor guy's heart, but as his friend, I think he needs the scare sometimes. Gets him off his ass." She chuckled the kind of personal laugh a person could only have with a good friend. Luta seemed to hold nothing of herself back, no matter the company she was in.

Elodie was quiet but decided to offer, "I ... think I know now how to keep myself from. Um. Passing out."

"Well, that's good. Less work for me in this infirmary. Go ahead, what's the secret?"

Elodie opened her mouth to tell Luta everything, then closed it. We keep our pact to ourselves, no outsiders, the voice had said. Was it supposed to be secret, then? "I don't think I can tell you. But I can promise that it will happen less."

Luta crossed her arms and looked Elodie over. "I don't like the sound of that."

When Elodie said nothing, Luta sighed and added, "Fine, fine. Don't like it one bit, though." She leaned forward and cupped Elodie's close hand. Luta's hands were calloused and gentle, square knuckles dwarfing the more petite girl's hand. "You really feel okay outside the headache? I'm asking as a doctor, not a nag. It's a lot of trouble to put on such a small pair of shoulders."

Elodie's mind reeled through everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Any reservations she'd had, any polite demeanor, any withholding for decorum's sake- it was all washed away under insufferable and complete exhaustion. No shred of dignity was left to hold her back from bleak veracity. "It's all too much. I feel horrible. I want none of it to have happened, and I want to give this ... thing to someone else." Luta, for her part, listened intently and squeezed Elodie's hand. "But I can't. I understand that now. I'll do my best to ensure this doesn't happen again ... and I want to fix what I did to Ann. Right now, though, I want to go home."

Luta nodded along and said, "Completely understand. I'll do my best to get you home once Ann's awake. How's that?"

Elodie itched to leap out of bed, throw on her things, and run, but Luta's reminder was fair, and the ache in her bones wouldn't let her. She nodded in response and looked back over to Ann longingly.

"That's a good one. Now, let's look you over properly and get you dressed."

Luta ran Elodie through several health examinations, and the woman's outer personality faded away when the well-being of others was of concern. Elodie was surprised at how thorough and methodical Luta was about the process. She made sure to check every possible problem and left no stone unturned.

"Up and about, finally?"

Both women turned at the sound of Alden's voice at the door. The minister leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed and tilted on one heel. He brushed his bangs out of his face, which was the most greeting they got.

"Alden! Good timing- we were just finishing. Ann's still asleep, but Lady Elodie's well enough." Luta paused as she wrote down one more note in her papers and picked up the stack. Then she said. "Was Braum with you?"

"He's been annoying, so I sent him to field duty with the wardens. But they left early this morning- he should be back soon." Alden looked past Luta at Elodie with a forlorn stare and said, "You're going to find a way to make up all the work we've missed."

"Y-yes, of course," Elodie responded without thinking.

"Lord Alden," Luta purred. Her eyes were crescents of happiness, but her tone was a dense metal. "Your bedside manner is terrible as ever, so I'm glad to hear you're volunteering to escort us to the gate to wait for the wardens to return."

Alden looked back and forth between the two, and then his eyes widened. He turned to leave, but Luta's hand was already curled inside his knitted collar. "Thank you for your service, minister."