Tentatively, she stepped into the undergrowth. A tingling sensation radiated over her arms. She could see something behind the trees, although she could not tell what it was.
“Mouse, come back here,” Thornwood said.
“One moment,” she said, taking another step forward.
“Mouse.” The panic in Thornwood’s voice cut through Mouse’s haze. The tingling in her arms transformed into a stinging pain. Mouse hissed and stumbled backward onto the path. Blood spots stood out against her sleeves.
“Oh,” she said. She brushed her hand over one of the spots, and it came away red. The pain was not unbearable, but it did sting as she rolled her sleeves up above her forearms. With her hands raised, blood pooled at her elbows, and she pulled out her handkerchief to wipe it away.
Another kerchief pressed to her other arm, supported by Thornwood’s shaking hands. Mouse looked at him, but he did not meet her gaze.
“I’m all right. It’s only a scratch,” she said.
“Don’t,” he rasped. “That was reckless.”
“Honestly, there’s no reason to worry. I hardly even feel it.”
“That means that the wounds are deep.”
“An old wives’ tale. It’s nothing some bandages and a bit of antiseptic won’t fix. I almost turned to stone a week ago, remember? This is nothing. Now we know not to stray from the path. We just have another reason to get out of here quickly, right?”
“Right,” he said, but he did not move or pull away. Instead, tenderly, he wrapped the cloth tight around her arm. Then, he lifted her handkerchief from her hand, doing the same to the other arm. He did not move away when he finished, as Mouse expected, but kept close enough that his breath caused the curls around her face to flutter. His eyes met hers, their sharpness cutting through her like a knife. She could not pinpoint his expression, but she could detect notes of anguish and fury and something softer. Her lips tingled.
“What do you think—will I perish?”
He stepped away, and she fought back her unexpected disappointment.
“You should be fine,” he said. His gaze went cold, a door closing behind his eyes. “Although I would still like to take another look when my powers return.”
“I’ll allow it,” she said with a smile.
He sighed. “Forgive me for my gruffness. Being cut off from all magic sets my teeth on edge, and it seems like every one of these spells attempts to make me more irritated. Not to mention your talent for recklessness.”
“Does it hurt to be cut off from your magic?” Mouse asked, ignoring the end of his sentence.
“It doesn’t hurt, exactly. It’s more like an itch in the middle of your back.”
“In London, when you were far from the countryside, is that how you felt?”
“I felt that, but also an exhaustion that sank to my bones. It is almost the opposite here. This place feels like a line of adrenaline fed straight through my blood. I can barely focus on anything.”
Mouse’s thoughts flashed to Roger’s bedside, his hand pressed in hers. She thought of the shells falling during the war. And, lastly, she thought of waiting every day for the news to arrive, either with a letter from Roger or Bertie or the dreaded news that they were gone.
“Although I don’t know what it is to live with magic, cut off from it or not, I understand that feeling of apprehension,” Mouse said. “After the war, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt as useless in the hospital as I had here at Thistlemarsh. For a while, I considered leaving everything behind. Perhaps America would be a good start, or Paris, or even just London. While he was alive, Uncle’s money would continue to support Roger, and in the hospital, Roger was either indifferent to me or upset by the sight of me.”
“How did you break from that feeling?”
“I didn’t,” she said. “One day it would be clawing at me, and the next day it would let off. I could never tell which feeling the day would bring.”
“I’ll just have to endure, then?”
“I’m afraid so. But at least you know that it won’t be permanent.”
Thornwood held out his hand toward her with his fingers turned up. She did not hesitate, taking it. A lopsided grin lit his face, and Mouse’s genuine smile—her father’s smile—rose in answer to his.
They fell into companionable silence, working their way down the path. An odd tree, bent in the middle and growing out into the forest horizontally, caught Mouse’s eye. She stopped.
“We’re going in circles,” she said.