Time moved differently when you were waiting for something, especially when you couldn't stop looking forward to it.
Morwenna had learned this over the past few weeks, though she couldn't have explained the feeling in words.
The days sometimes stretched so long that every hour seemed to press against her ribs like a physical weight. Other times, they passed so quickly that she would blink and find another morning had arrived. She had been waiting for almost a year.
It wasn't the heavy waiting she had known when Gran-père and Grand-ma left, the kind that settled in her chest like a cold stone. This was different. This was the waiting of a held breath, of a hand hovering just above a smooth surface, or of a body coiled and ready to spring into motion.
The mundane world.
Her family had been preparing her for it for months. They gave her books with glossy pages and bright pictures of cars, buses, and playgrounds, and patiently answered her endless questions.
She saw slides that curved like silver snakes and streets where people walked without magic and still found their way home.
Jane had told her about traffic lights and crosswalks, explaining how the little green man appeared when it was safe to cross the road.
Jack had described London's streets, the shop windows filled with things no one needed but everyone wanted, and the parks where children ran, screamed, and sometimes fell down, only to get up and start running again.
Morwenna listened to everything. Her curiosity only grew, rising higher until it felt as though it might spill out of her mouth.
She imagined herself doing all those things. She would walk on pavement that wasn't stone. She would watch a traffic light change from red to green.
She would ride in a car, which Jane had explained was like a carriage, only faster and without horses. That part still made no sense to her, but she believed it anyway.
She would eat at a place called a restaurant, where people brought you food you hadn't cooked yourself.
Sometimes, when she thought no one was watching, she let herself enjoy the excitement.
She was in the nursery, alone except for Cinder, who watched her from the bed with his ears perked up.
She had been trying to tie her trainers, but the laces kept tangling into knots. She was concentrating so hard that the tip of her tongue had slipped between her lips when she suddenly thought of the bus.
The big red bus from her picture book. The one that could carry so many people at once that Jane had said, "More than our family."
Morwenna had tried to imagine that many people in one place and failed.
A laugh escaped her. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her green eyes widening, then laughed again because covering her mouth made the whole thing even sillier.
Cinder's tail thumped against the mattress.
Morwenna glanced at the door, but no one came. She looked down at her trainers and their untied laces, and something strange happened to her body. She began to vibrate, like the kettle her mother had told her about when the water was almost boiling.
A soft hum ran through her, starting in her stomach and spreading to her fingers, toes, and even the tips of her ears. Her hands curled at her sides, and her knees bent slightly, as though she might spring up at any moment and run somewhere, anywhere.
She asked her mother about the mundane world every day now.
What color were the doors?
Did the birds look the same?
Would there be other children to play with?
Did the moon look the same from there?
Jane answered each question with the same steady patience, though sometimes her smile changed, as if she were saving something for later, for the day when Morwenna could finally see it all with her own eyes.
"Soon," she whispered to herself.
Or perhaps it was today. She had lost track. The days had blurred together, each one bringing her closer to something she could almost touch.
Saoirse had promised to return before her birthday, and Saoirse kept her promises. When she came back, they would go to the mundane world. The real one, with cars and buses and playgrounds and people who didn't know magic existed.
Morwenna pushed herself up from the floor. She took two steps, then broke into a run.
The corridor was empty, but she ran down it anyway, her trainers slapping against the stone floor and her white hair flying behind her.
She didn't know where she was going. She just needed to move. Her legs pumped, her arms swung, and her breath came in short gasps that were almost, but not quite, laughter.
She stopped at the top of the stairs. Below her, the entrance hall spread out in gray stone and silver light. The central fountain murmured, and the portraits watched from their frames.
Morwenna leaned over the railing, gripping the polished wood as she looked down at the empty hall.
She imagined Saoirse standing in the middle of it, her dark hair wild, her grin sharp, and her voice loud enough to fill every corner.
She would come through the front door instead of the Floo because she was Saoirse and never did anything the ordinary way. She would scoop Morwenna up before the girl could even run to her, then laugh as she held her close.
That laugh would be the first real thing Morwenna had heard in months.
Her body began to vibrate again. She pressed her forehead against the railing and let the feeling wash over her.
***
In the mornings, Morwenna sat on the rug with her books spread around her. The board books with their thick pages lay scattered across the floor, their bright covers showing cows, buses, and playground slides. She knew them by heart now.
She no longer needed to read the words. Instead, she studied the pictures, tracing the outlines of buildings, the curves of slides, and the round shape of a steering wheel with her finger.
"Bus," she whispered to Cinder, who lay beside her with his head resting on his paws. "Car."
Cinder's ears swiveled. He was very patient with this.
Morwenna turned to the page showing a playground. A girl was going down a slide, her arms raised and her mouth open in laughter that had been frozen in the picture.
Morwenna had asked Jane what the girl was feeling, and Jane had told her it was joy. When Morwenna asked if she would feel that way too, Jane had said yes.
She closed the book and held it against her chest. Her trainers sat beside her, their laces still undone, waiting for a day that was only a few weeks away.
"The stone will be here soon," she told Cinder. "From the mountains. It's never warm."
Cinder's ears flattened slightly. He didn't understand the stone. He understood Morwenna, mostly, but this was beyond him.
It was something she thought about when she was supposed to be napping. She thought about the phoenix that fell from the sky like a star.
These things now lived in her head alongside the pictures of buses and playgrounds, and she didn't yet know how to sort them out. They were all things she was waiting to understand.
Tilly appeared in the doorway, her large ears twitching.
"Does the little miss want lunch?"
Morwenna glanced at the window. The light had shifted from morning to afternoon without her noticing. She had been sitting there for hours, probably, and her legs had gone numb.
"Yes."
She stood, and pins and needles prickled through her legs. She caught the doorframe to steady herself while Cinder pressed against her ankles, waiting for her to move.
She ate lunch in the morning room, accompanied by Tilly and the portraits.
The old white-haired woman watched her from her frame, her painted head tilted slightly. Isolde was asleep, as she sometimes was in the afternoons, but Edmund was awake, his eyes following Morwenna's fork from plate to mouth.
"Are you excited?" Edmund asked.
Morwenna chewed and swallowed. "Yes."
"When I was small, I wanted to see the sea. I had never seen it, and I thought about it every day. It was all I could think about."
Morwenna looked at him. "Did you go?"
"I did. It was very loud. The water moved all the time, and it smelled strange. I didn't like it at first." Edmund smiled, the corners of his painted mouth lifting slowly. "I liked it later, after I got used to it."
Morwenna finished her lunch and carried her plate to the kitchen. Tilly took it from her with both hands, his large eyes bright.
"The little miss is very ready," he said.
"Yes."
He made a small sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "Tilly will pack good things for the little miss when she travels. Snacks, warm things, and..."
"You aren't coming," Morwenna said.
Tilly's ears drooped. "Tilly will stay. The manor needs Tilly. The little miss will come back."
Morwenna patted his hand. "I will come back."
She returned to the morning room and climbed onto the settee. The books were still spread across the low table. She looked at the bus, the car, and the playground, then at the girl going down the slide with her arms in the air and her mouth open in laughter.
Morwenna imagined herself on the slide. Her arms were raised, her mouth was open, and the wind was blowing through her hair.
A small, silly laugh escaped her. Her whole body shook with it, and she clapped both hands over her mouth, but she couldn't stop. The bright sound bounced off the stone walls.
The old woman cleared her throat from inside her frame. "Are you quite all right?"
Morwenna nodded, still laughing, her shoulders shaking with joy.
Isolde woke with a start. "What is happening?"
"She is excited," Edmund explained.
Morwenna laughed even harder.
***
Morwenna was on her way to the library, with Cinder at her heels, when the front door burst open with a bang that echoed like thunder through the high rafters.
Every portrait turned at once. The central fountain rippled, and water sloshed against the stone basin.
Saoirse stood in the doorway, her black hair messy and her eyes bright with life.
She was thinner than Morwenna remembered. Her face was sharper, her cheekbones more prominent beneath her skin, and her hair was shorter, hacked off unevenly at her shoulders as though she had cut it herself with something that wasn't a pair of scissors.
Her traveling cloak was torn at the hem and stained dark with something that might have been mud or might have been something else.
She was grinning.
"Little monster," she said. "I'm back."
Morwenna ran without thinking. Her legs moved before her mind could catch up, her trainers slapping against the stone as her arms pumped at her sides. Cinder barked in surprise behind her, then raced after her.
She crashed into Saoirse at full speed.
Saoirse caught her, staggered back a step, then wrapped both arms around her. She pressed her face into Morwenna's hair, her whole body shaking with laughter that sounded as though it had been stored up for months.
"You are heavy," Saoirse declared. "You are so heavy! What have they been feeding you? You are enormous, you are..."
Morwenna tightened her arms around Saoirse's neck. She could feel the bones of Saoirse's shoulders beneath her hands and the sharp ridge of her spine. Saoirse was too thin, but she was here.
"You came back," Morwenna said.
"I said I would."
Saoirse pulled back, keeping her hands on Morwenna's shoulders as she studied her face. Her eyes were bright, dirt smudged one cheek, and her grin was the widest Morwenna had ever seen.
"You climbed a mountain," Morwenna said.
"I climbed several mountains."
"Was it cold?"
Saoirse's grin widened. "The coldest thing I have ever felt. And I have felt you make frost in July."
Jane appeared at the top of the stairs. She descended slowly, her eyes fixed on Saoirse's face and torn cloak.
"Saoirse."
Saoirse looked up. Her grin softened into something smaller, something that looked more like relief.
"Jane."
"You are thin," Jane said, her French accent softening her concern.
"I'm efficient."
"You look as though you haven't slept in a month."
"I haven't. There are a lot of stars in the Himalayas. You can't just not look at them."
Jane made a sound that was almost a laugh. She stepped forward and put her arms around Saoirse. Saoirse let her, which was something she didn't always do.
They held each other for a moment longer than they usually did when greeting one another. When they finally pulled apart, Jane's eyes were bright.
"Welcome home," she said.
Saoirse nodded without answering, but she lifted one hand and gave Jane's shoulder a quick, firm squeeze. Then she was moving again, already talking about the journey, the mountains, and the cold that went so deep it felt like falling.
Morwenna followed her into the entrance hall, half walking and half skipping, reaching for Saoirse's sleeve every few steps. Cinder had appeared beside them again, weaving between their legs with his tail sweeping back and forth.
"I need to sleep," Saoirse announced. She stopped in the middle of the hall and stretched, reaching both arms toward the high ceiling as she arched her back. "I need to sleep for three days. Maybe four. Maybe a week."
"That can be arranged," Seraphina said from somewhere behind them.
"But first..." Saoirse crouched to Morwenna's height. Her face was tired, the kind of tiredness that settled deep in the bones and stayed there, but her eyes were still bright. "I need to eat something that isn't dried meat and prayer. I need to let my body remember what it feels like to be warm."
Morwenna nodded. She understood the need to rest. She had needed it after the ritual, after the fever, and after all the things that had taken more from her than she had known she could give.
"But afterward." Saoirse lowered her voice and tapped Morwenna's nose with one finger. "After I have had some rest, I have something to tell you. Something special."
Morwenna's eyes widened. "What?"
Saoirse's grin turned mischievous. She pressed a finger to her own lips, then to Morwenna's. Her black eyebrows rose, and her eyes danced with secrets.
"You will find out," she said.
Then she winked.
The wink was quick and bright, and it landed in Morwenna's chest like a spark. She didn't know what it meant yet, but she knew it meant something.
It meant secrets. The kind you didn't tell everyone, only the people you chose.
Morwenna nodded again, more firmly this time. Saoirse laughed, straightened, and headed upstairs, with Jack following to make sure she found her room.
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