Before the Snow Read Free Page B

her parents gone, she could not bring herself to step inside.
    Nepenthe spent days at a time in the water. No longer was she torn between land and sea. It was different living with the witches than visiting them. Before it was like going out and seeing a magic show in one of the villages. Now magic was all around her, all the time.
    She only wanted to be in the water. It was where she could still feel her mother. And it was where she could weep without anyone seeing.
    Days turned to weeks.
    And then the Witch of the Woods, finally accepting that Nepenthe’s choice was a final one and that she would never live on land again, came to her with a gift.
    â€œI wanted you to come to this out of a place of love, not grief,” the Witch of the Woods preambled.
    Nepenthe always answered when the Witch called. She would swim to the side of the River and listen to what the Witch had to say before pushing off with her tentacles back into the currents.
    But this time, the Witch had not come with words alone. She had built Nepenthe a boat and it was sitting still, anchored, despite the current.
    â€œThere is a point where even a witch can forget who she is,” the Witch of the Woods said. One of her branches skimmed the top of the water, reaching for Nepenthe.
    â€œI think I know who I am,” Nepenthe countered, swimming with a purposeful splash in her direction.
    â€œMourn your parents, but do not drown in your tears.”
    The Witch of the Woods stood on the shore and reached a long branch beneath the waves, plucking Nepenthe up. With a slick thud, she deposited her on the boat’s deck. And then she left her to be.
    The boat was made of the Witch of the Woods’s favorite silver Oaken. It was rare and came from the top of some mountain that she could not travel to by roots. In order to procure the Oaken, the Witch of the Woods had to climb.
    The Oaken’s bark looked like gold leaf, but it was silver—and it made Nepenthe think of the King’s carriage. Only it was not twisted into something ornate. Its lines were simple and reminded her of the River’s currents.
    The boat had all the comforts of home, including a few of Nepenthe’s favorite things. There were also some belongings of the River Witch and Prince Eric. Nepenthe contemplated throwing everything into the River. But instead, she curled up in her father’s favorite chair, which somehow still smelled of him, and fell asleep.
    The next few weeks went like that. Nepenthe got into a comfortable rhythm with the other witches. She continued her training, and when things became too much to bear, she had her boat. She had the water.
    And then the witches brought her Ora. She was so different from Nepenthe. Ora was about the same age, but she was not from the sea. She was beautiful, and Nepenthe imagined every boy in Algid thought so. The Witch of the Woods had said that Ora had powers, too. She was said to have control over fire. But while Nepenthe was submerged in exercising her power, Ora did not make any effort to find hers. Nepenthe hardly ever saw even a spark.
    In theory, Ora was to take the Fire Witch’s place one day. Just as the Coven had left Nepenthe’s mother’s place as River Witch open to her. But the Fire Witch and Ora were not mother and daughter. They were aunt and niece. And their relationship seemed a distant one. Perhaps it was because Ora was not interested enough in fire, or perhaps her disinterest came from the Fire Witch’s lack of interest in her. Nepenthe never knew, and for all Ora’s talking, Nepenthe sensed Ora would never really tell her. All she knew was that Ora was a fixture in the Coven.
    In the future, she was to be a part of the Three. But Nepenthe wondered, somewhat meanly, what the Three would be if their Fire Witch could not so much as raise a hearth without kindling.
    The Coven said Ora needed a home, too, and they brought her to Nepenthe’s boat often. Ora was happy to