Broken Wish Read online

  “But why?” Elva gasped, taking them. The slippers were light as feathers in her hands, and the satin ribbons tickled her wrists.

  “I enchanted them to be silent. No one will hear you come or go, and you will leave no tracks behind you. I can’t risk anyone following you. And if you change your mind about coming back,” Mathilda added, “leave the shoes in the branches of the first willow tree, where they will be well hidden. Just be sure no one is following you, understand?”

  “Yes,” Elva agreed, with a twinge of pity at how exhausting it must be to forever worry about being found. She slipped off her sturdy boots and put on the slippers, which were lined with fur and delightfully soft. They had looked too small for her, but on her feet, they fit as perfectly as though the cobbler had designed them for her. She tied the ribbons around her ankles and stood, taking a few steps around the cottage. Her feet made not a sound on the floorboards.

  “Keep that mirror with you, too,” Mathilda said, nodding at Elva’s basket on the table. “It is connected to mine, and I will know at once if you tell anyone about me.”

  Elva opened her mouth to protest at being spied on like a thief, but she couldn’t blame the witch for not trusting her. She was, after all, a stranger and also the daughter of someone who had betrayed Mathilda. “Thank you,” she said instead. “I’m truly grateful to you.”

  The witch regarded her with something of the sadness Elva remembered from her vision. “You’re very like your mother, you know? You even talk like her. Now go on,” she said gruffly. “Before I change my mind. And keep your wits about you in the forest this time.”

  “Will I be able to find my way back?” Elva asked nervously, gathering up her basket.

  “The path you took here will be just beyond that tree,” Mathilda said, pointing at the willow. “Walk with your head up, stride with purpose, and don’t stare too long at anything odd. You’ll be much less of a target for the imps and the fairy rings that way.”

  “All right. Well, thank you,” Elva said awkwardly. Then, with her basket in one hand and boots in the other, she moved out of the door and back through the trees. She gulped when she realized that her feet in the dancing shoes did not even disturb one blade of grass. When she passed the willow, she glanced back over her shoulder, but Mathilda’s cottage and the clearing had completely disappeared. The sight of the now-empty space in the forest made her shiver, and she hurried on back to the path.

  She could only hope she had done the right thing in seeking out the witch of the North Woods.

  The next morning, Elva went out to harvest radishes for supper. She worked slowly, digging into the soil to check the roots and pulling the plants out if they were ready. She placed the greens in one basket and the radishes in another, all the while running over the conversation with Mathilda—and her confession—again and again in her mind.

  Years ago, when nosy old Frau Braun had fallen ill, Mama had sent Cay and Elva to her with hot soup and sourdough bread. The midwife had told them an interesting story about Frau Bergmann, who had been a Werner before she married and apparently even snobbier as a girl than she was now. The story went that she had offended the witch of the North Woods by refusing to invite her to a party, and as revenge, the witch had cursed her to have spiders, lizards, and other horrible animals come out of her throat for a week. Elva had laughed at the tale and teased impressionable little Cay for believing it. But it seemed Cay had been right to do so.

  Elva frowned, tossing another radish into her basket. No one would lie about something like that. Mathilda must have been telling the truth and clearly expected to frighten her off with it. Or maybe it was all a test. Maybe she wanted to see how brave Elva was…or how desperate.

  Sighing, Elva wiped her forehead across her sleeve and looked up to see Cay coming toward her. “What are you doing out here? Mama asked you to milk the cows.”

  He gave her a strange look. “That was two hours ago. I’m all done, so she sent me out here to see if you needed any help.”

  Elva glanced up at the sky and realized that the sun had already reached its peak. “I was so busy daydreaming, the morning flew by. You can help me bring the baskets in.”

  Cay picked up the basket of greens and walked with her back toward the house, rambling about a book he had recently read. Elva only half listened, nodding absentmindedly until he said, “The last chapter said wishing wells with the most powerful magic are usually found near trees. So there must be one somewhere in the North Woods.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elva asked, alert at once.

  He frowned at her. “Haven’t you been listening? I’m planning an expedition to find my wishing well, and I just know that if I go into the forest…”

  Images raced through Elva’s mind at a frantic pace: swaying trees, an old well, and someone crumpled on the ground. Her body went cold and she stopped, looking her brother in the eye. “Cay,” she said sternly, “you must never go into the forest alone.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, waving an impatient hand. “I’ve read all the stories. I’ll leave a trail of bread crumbs. Well, not actual bread crumbs, because that’s stupid. But I wouldn’t get lost.”

  “Cay, I mean it,” Elva said loudly. “You are not to go into the North Woods for any reason at all. Do you hear me?”

  He blinked at her forceful tone. “Yes, I hear you.”

  “It’s dangerous in there. Promise me. Promise me,” Elva demanded. She wished she could tell him about everything: the fairy ring, the mirror, the vanishing trees, and the witch who had been both Mama’s confidante and the poisoner of the candy eaten by the village children. But looking into his bewildered face, she couldn’t bring herself to burden him with what she knew. Not yet, not until she had made a decision. “I’m sorry I raised my voice,” she added more gently. “I’m worried you’ll get hurt, that’s all.”

  Cay frowned. “You’ve been odd ever since you came back yesterday.”

  “Odd? What do you mean?”

  “Just odd. You didn’t tell me how your errand for Freida went, and you’ve never told me not to go adventuring in the woods before.” Cay studied her. “You tell me all of your secrets, but this time you’re keeping something to yourself. I can feel it.”

  “You’re right,” she admitted, struck by how well her brother knew her. “I had another vision. I saw a bad storm coming, but I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “But the almanac said it would be a dry season.”

  “I know. But before what I saw comes true, I’m going to try to do something about it.”

  “Like what?”

  Elva bit her bottom lip, knowing she had already said too much. “I’m not sure yet; I want to think through it some more. All right?”

  Cay scuffed the ground with his boots. “Are you going to tell Willem?”

  “What made you think of that?”

  “He’s right there.”

  Willem was indeed waiting for them and chatting with Mama in front of the house. Elva’s heart picked up at how handsome he looked: The sleeves of his blue work shirt had been rolled up over his arms, and a lock of reddish-brown hair blew across his forehead in the breeze. As soon as he saw them coming, he hurried to take the heavy basket of radishes from Elva.

  “I came to say hello,” he said, his eyes shining.

  “Why don’t you bring those radishes into the kitchen, Willem?” Mama suggested, with an indulgent smile. “And then you can sit out here with Elva for a bit. It’s such a lovely day.”

  In a minute or two, Elva and Willem were sitting on the sun-warmed grass with cups of Mama’s honey-sweetened barley water. “What did you end up doing with the Blue Mermaid?” she asked, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Herr Bauer helped me salt it down to preserve it. He wants to invite the whole town to a fish bake this week.” Willem’s face took on a mischievous expression. “It will probably taste delicious, and you and I will dance at least three times. But I’m sure you
already know that.”

  “Well…”

  He glanced at the house quickly, then captured her lips with his, which were sweet and warm. The butterflies danced more frantically than ever in Elva’s stomach, and she giggled when they separated. “And you probably knew I was going to do that, too,” he joked.

  Elva shook her head, laughing. “That’s not quite how it works.”

  “I forgot. You have to look into a reflective surface first, like the river.”

  “Yes. I even saw something in Papa’s brandy once,” Elva said, gratified by the way he spoke about her ability, as though it was perfectly normal.

  “You’re brilliant.” Willem kissed her again, and she leaned against his warmth, even though Cay and Mama might see them from the windows. “But I think you were right to keep it a secret. I’d hate people to bother you about it. That is,” he added hastily, when Elva pulled away in surprise, “they might ask you to predict things for them all the time, which would be a nuisance. Although you might be able to charge them a fee. Now there’s a thought!”

  Elva laughed, yet it struck her that Mathilda had said something similar yesterday. She twirled a bright yellow dandelion between her fingers, wondering what Willem would think if she told him she had seen the witch.

  “What does it feel like when you see the future?” he asked.

  “Strange,” she confessed. “Like I’m looking into a small window, and it’s all happening in front of my eyes. That evening, I saw you as clear as day in the river. The fish, too.”

  “Do you hear voices?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Please tell me if I’m asking too many questions. I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me,” he added quickly. “I won’t be that kind of husband.” As soon as the word husband slipped out, his face turned bright red, and Elva thought she couldn’t possibly adore him more.

  “It doesn’t frighten you at all, what I can do? Or feel wrong or unnatural?”

  “Of course not.” Willem plucked a few daisies and braided their stems together. “I think certain people can sense things. Frau Werner’s ankle hurt when her twin twisted hers miles away. And one farmhand’s mother always sends him exactly what he wants to eat, even though she has no way of knowing what he craves. Everything you see has to do with people you care about, so maybe it’s similar. You worry about them and want only good things for them.”

  Elva’s heart soared as he spoke. Everything he said made sense; even the vision of the terrible storm had to do with her protecting her family. He understood her so well.

  Willem blushed again. “Have you seen anything about us? I mean, about our life together?” He fiddled with the cup of water in his hand, looking into it at his own reflection.

  “Not yet. But I haven’t really tried.” Elva’s heart sank a bit at his hopeful expression, remembering how sick she had felt after calling up the last vision. “I’m not sure if I can do it. I haven’t practiced enough.”

  “Of course,” he said at once. “You don’t have to.”

  “But maybe I should give it a try.” She had felt wonderful—and powerful—calling up the path to Mathilda’s house. Perhaps she could conjure another specific image and not get so ill, now that she knew to stop before she did. “What would you like to know?”

  Willem sat up, excited. “How about the cottage I’ll build for you? And our family?”

  Elva’s blush rivaled his as she held his cup in front of her. It had been a long time since she’d had a vision in front of someone else on purpose, and her heart pounded as she tried to relax. She took a few deep breaths, turning her thoughts toward the life they would share.

  But when the scene appeared, it was of Willem leaning against a fence, talking to another young man who was short and strongly built, with black hair and light gray eyes. Both were dressed in work shirts and suspenders, and Elva guessed that the other man was another one of Herr Bauer’s farmhands. His hands moved eagerly as he spoke. “It’ll be easy,” he said. “It comes to Berlin at the end of summer, and it would be simple to hitch a ride there. Think about it.”

  Afraid of getting sick again, she blinked and quickly broke the trance.

  “What is it? What did you see?” Willem asked.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t see our cottage. I saw something else.” She described the black-haired young man and what she had heard him say.

  “That sounds like Klaus,” Willem said, amazed. “He’s brand-new, just hired yesterday, and hasn’t been introduced anywhere yet.”

  Elva furrowed her brow, wondering why she hadn’t seen what she had wanted to see. Perhaps she should have asked out loud again. She longed to talk to Mathilda about it…but going back to her would mean overlooking everything awful the woman had done.

  “I can’t wait for that conversation to happen,” Willem said gleefully. “Wouldn’t it shock Klaus if I told him I knew he was going to mention Berlin?”

  “Willem,” Elva said, alarmed.

  “I’m joking,” he reassured her. “I won’t tell anyone. Your secrets are my secrets now, too.” He braided the last daisy into the chain he was weaving, and then placed it atop her hair like a crown, his eyes so full of love that Elva couldn’t help kissing him again.

  And after that, they didn’t do very much talking at all.

  Two days later, Elva stood in the kitchen with Mama, struggling to stay awake as they churned butter. “Are you all right?” her mother asked, concerned, as Elva stifled yet another yawn. “You’ve looked exhausted all day. I hope you’re not coming down with something.”

  “I’m fine, Mama. I just haven’t been sleeping very well.”

  For the past two nights, Elva had woken up almost every hour with her heart racing and her nightgown stuck to her clammy skin. Last night it had been a nightmare about the storm and having to swim through rainwater to save Cay from drowning. The other night it had been bad dream after bad dream of the stone well from her visions. Each time, a different person had lain crumpled and dead in front of her—Papa sprawled out with his head lolling to one side, Willem lying lifeless on his stomach, Mama staring sightlessly up at the sky. Elva had sat bolt upright after each disturbing image, shivering and crying and sick to her stomach.

  They’re just dreams, she had told herself. Not visions of the future.

  And yet how could she be certain? Maybe her ability was now manifesting itself in sleep; maybe everything she dreamed would also come to pass. After the final terrifying nightmare, she had made up her mind to go see the witch again and had packed her basket with the red slippers and mirror. What Mathilda had done was in the past, and Elva cared about the future. If there was even a small chance that she could do something about it, then it would be worth going against Mama and Papa’s wishes and risking everything to learn more about magic.

  “You should go up to bed,” Mama said sympathetically. “I can finish churning alone.”

  “No, I’ll be all right. Honest,” Elva told her.

  Mama had been in the fields all day, helping Papa and the farmhands cut the wheat. It was hot, tiring work, and Elva couldn’t stand the thought of Mama doing all the churning by herself, too. So she braced her hands on the dash and drove it over and over into the tub, working the buttermilk into a lather with as much energy as she could muster.

  “Cay noticed how tired you were today, too. He offered to feed the chickens tomorrow morning so you can sleep in a bit.” Mama gave an affectionate shake of her head. “He’s a good, steady boy, for all that talk about ogres and wishing wells.”

  Elva’s grip tightened on the dash. “Mama, he’s been talking about going to the North Woods alone,” she said, ignoring the stab of guilt at revealing her brother’s plans. But it was for his own protection. “He thinks he might find a wishing well there.”

  Mama stopped churning. “What a foolish idea!” she fumed. “I’ll speak to him. I don’t know what it is about that place. Sometimes I think these folktales do more harm than good.”<
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  When they finished, Elva went upstairs and allowed herself one longing look at her bed before sitting on the hard floor. She could not fall asleep, not at moonrise on the third day, when the witch had told her to come back. Once the house had fallen silent at last, she put on her cloak, drawing the hood over her bright hair, and opened her window. Her bedroom was on the second floor above the kitchen, which had a low roof and a drainpipe she could climb. She hooked her basket over one arm, put on the red shoes, and slipped out onto the rooftop. Her feet made no sound on the shingles, and she landed silently in the grass below.

  Thank you, Mathilda, she thought, and with a glance back at her dark house, she headed for the river. Several times, she was forced to duck around the corner of a building or into the shadow of trees whenever she heard voices or horses approaching. The magical red shoes made no sound and left no tracks, but they didn’t make her invisible.

  Her heart pounded in her throat as she scurried across the bridge and plunged into the North Woods. The forest seemed like a different world at night, vast and full of watchful eyes. The smell of earth and smoky moss hung in the air as she jogged through the trees. Not a single twig crunched beneath her slippers, nor did her footsteps displace any leaf or pebble. She stayed alert, not wanting to get caught in another fairy ring, especially not in this heavy darkness.

  Soon enough, Elva found the willow and passed it on the right side. For a moment, she dreaded looking back, worried that Mathilda might have thought better of their association and changed the path. But when she peered behind her, the tree was gone. She wants me to find her again, she thought, her heart soaring.

  She passed by the other landmarks, and the witch’s cottage came into view, looking even more inviting with its bright windows shining against the night. The front door had been left ajar, and Elva pushed it open to find Mathilda sitting by the fire, writing in a leather-bound book with the cat curled up against her side.