Mistress of the Solstice Read Online Free Page A

familiar like
welcoming hands. Calm spread over me as I glanced around at the simple
furnishings, the things necessary for my life and my magic. Basic,
essential things, nothing that could induce feeling, that could bond me
in any way. A low wooden bed; shelves of books running along the wall;
a tall dark wardrobe in the corner; a massive chest between two narrow
windows bearing the sacred objects for the Solstice Ceremony; the
Mirror in its dark wooden frame, between the shelves and the door. And,
of course, Raven’s perch, a large, gnarled branch of an
ancient tree fixed above the shelf in the corner.
    Raven didn’t stir when I walked in. He could be a very
sound sleeper when he wanted. I wished my serving women had his tact
and could sense my need for solitude as they fussed over me, taking off
my dirt-stained cloak and preparing a bath for my tired feet. The bath
was welcome, actually, but I was still relieved when they finally
departed, leaving me alone with Praskovia.
    “You look tired, Maryushka,”
Praskovia took the thick wooden comb to my hair as I sat on a chair,
relaxing my back, sore from the day in the saddle, against its smooth,
polished wood. She didn’t often use my childhood
nickname, and just by this address I realized how worn I must look.
    I wished I could forget who I was and hide my face in
Praskovia’s large bosom, like I sometimes had when I
was a child. Or, at least, sit with her like we used to, and talk about
what was on my mind. But how could I tell her that I had been shaken by
a daft villager down at the plaza? What would she think of me then?
She was right. I was tired. After a day’s worth of
travel I had every reason to be.
    “It was a long ride,” I told her.
    “You need to eat,” Praskovia said.
“You are so pale. Let me send someone up with a bowl
of borscht.”
    I considered it. She was right, again. I probably needed to eat. But I
felt no hunger. And I couldn’t bear to think of the
fussy kitchen maids invading my room with their cheerfulness that they
tried so hard to hide in my presence.
    “Maybe later,” I said.
“I want to be alone.”
    She stood for a moment, looking at me. I sensed her worry, but I
distanced myself from it. I had had enough of emotion for one day.
    When I failed to meet her gaze, Praskovia turned and walked towards the
door with smooth, graceful steps. She must have been quite a beauty in
her youth. I wondered if I would look like her when I got older.
    When the door closed behind her, I went straight to my Mirror. Its
surface was misty-gray, reflecting nothing until a request was made. As
usual, I started with the one I had been asking the Mirror ever since I
was twelve.
    “Show me the most beautiful woman in the
world.”
    The gray mist thinned and disappeared, revealing my own face. I knew I
would see myself, and I could have simply asked the Mirror to show my
reflection, but what fun would that be? Pride was an emotion far enough
from love to allow me to indulge in its simple pleasures. I smiled, and
my face in the Mirror smiled back at me, pale and powerful. Mistress of
the Solstice. Daughter of Kashchey.
    “Show me my thoughts,” I told the
Mirror absentmindedly, watching the reflection of a tiny vertical line
in the middle of my forehead where the dark arches of my eyebrows came
together, a line that hadn’t been there before. My face
disappeared, the gray mist wavering beneath the smooth surface of the
glass, and then…
    I was staring into a pair of shiny eyes, blue like cornflowers, innocent
like a child’s. His freckled face was smiling, his
straw hair standing on end just the way it had on the plaza. His lips
moved, mutely uttering the stupid phrase from before:
“You are very beautiful.” And a
spark in the depth of his eyes pierced me to my very soul.
    “Stop!” I drew back, nearly
tripping over my feet in my haste. My heart pounded as I watched his
face melt away into the mist.
    The Raven awoke on his perch and shrieked, but I