Runaway Magic

seven

"Get away from her," I ordered, summoning more courage than I felt.

The cloaked figure only smirked, tightening their grip on the dagger's handle. Dark gems crusted it like blood, spiraling around silvery metal. An oddly intricate and expensive choice for a lowlife girl.

"Make me," she said, a taunting glint in her eyes. She fluttered the long lashes that framed her deep brown eyes, sending strange butterflies cascading through my chest.

"What do you want?" I demanded, gesturing between Kenna and myself. If she was after gold, we clearly had none. Our clothes were rumpled and worn, and the coins jangling in Kenna's pocket were barely enough for a week. Nothing worth threatening our lives over.

"You're going to pretend you never saw me or my friend," the girl said harshly, jerking her head in the direction the escaping thief had run. "Or your sister here gets it."

Help! Kenna mouthed frantically, her body stiff with fear. But the attacker had a knife, and her thief friend was probably just around the corner. I was just a scrawny girl from a small village; there was nothing I could do. Then, I noticed the whorling pattern etched into the girl's boots. They didn't strike me as anything special, until I remembered the fabric design Mama liked to stitch late at night. Mama's grandparents had migrated from Ijinislj during the Great War, and she used to tell us stories about how the Ijinislj believed the spirals represented life, the magic that webbed every being together. Hopefully, her bedtime stories weren't entirely fabricated, or the girl in front of me would lop off my head.

"Are you Ijinisljin?" I blurted, praying to all the gods I knew that my plan would work.

For a second, the attacker's smirk froze on her gold-freckled face. I had managed to catch her off guard, which gave me a small surge of triumph.

"Yes, I am," the girl finally admitted, frowning. She eyed me up and down, no doubt questioning my pale skin, light-colored eyes, and bone white hair. I looked as least Ijinislj as possible. "Are you?"

"No," I said, quickly continuing before she could deem me a liar, "but my great-grandparents were. Our Mama used to tell us stories about the magic spirals. She said everyone and everything in life is connected, whether we see it or not."

Sighing, the girl lowered her weapon. Apparently, my blubbering had managed to win her over.

Kenna sprang away, clutching my side like she was a little kid again. I pressed my palm firmly into hers, our fingers twining together. I had convinced the attacker not to harm us, but the danger had not passed. The girl's eyes shown with a fervor I had never seen before, and the intensity of it scared me.

"We won't tell anyone," Kenna promised, squeezing my hand. "We're actually trying to buy passage across the border to Ijinislj." She darted a furtive glance at me before continuing, "I- I have magic, and we need to escape persecution. Please help us."

The girl's chocolate-amber eyes flashed in the darkness as she considered our plea. I didn't like that Kenna had shared her magic with a stranger. After all these years, keeping it a secret was a reflex for me. Even so, if her magic could help us gain safety with the attacker and her friend, I wasn't going to stop her.

"No," she snapped. My heart sunk into my chest, but Kenna's eyes only flashed sharper.

"We're not Ijinisljin-" she began.

"Obviously," the girl snorted, frowning again at our too-fair features. The Ijinislj usually had darker skin and kinkier hair, which was much better suited to the country's warm climate. Kenj was cold and unforgiving, which the population reflected almost too well. I touched my bleached hair self-consciously. Once again, I was reminded of how different we were. We weren't Ijinisljin, but we weren't truly Kenjan either.

"But," Kenna said, pressing on despite the other girl's annoyance, "that doesn't mean we can't be. Aren't all witches granted refuge under Ijinisljin law? Or is your country's government just another bunch of liars?"

The girl curled her lips, and I worried Kenna had pushed too far. But then she sighed, rolling her eyes skyward.

"Fine," she said shortly, sliding her dagger back into a neatly braided loop around her waist. She tugged on her cloak, letting the roughspun fabric conceal her glittering weapon. She glanced at us narrowly before turning around. "Follow me."

"I don't like this," I whispered to Kenna as we followed the girl through the winding city streets. The moon illuminated swaths of buildings and roads, but other than its silver face, we were alone. If things went south, no one would be able to hear us.

"I don't either," Kenna agreed, "but if she's Ijinisljin, she can probably help us cross the border. Isn't that what you suggested in the first place?"

Begrudgingly, I admitted she was right, but that didn't mean I was going to be happy about it. Something about the girl seemed off, and it wasn't just her thieving habits.

"We don't even know her name," I grumbled, eyeing the girl's black-cloaked silhouette. She tread silently, as if she was one of the young ghosts from Mama's stories. Maybe she was a ghost, sent to punish Kenna and me for being so stupid. I wouldn't be surprised; I had never found the universe to be anything but ballsy.

"Amina," the girl replied without slowing down. "Now you know."

Even though I couldn't see her face, I could hear the smirk in her voice. It rattled me in a way I didn't like.

"She almost slit your throat," I hissed, but Kenna shook me off.

"She could have, but she didn't," she said, laughing at my frustrated expression.

After a moment, she sobered, pulling me to a stop in an alleyway. Standing next to a pile of sour-smelling trash and a wall crumbling with age, an intense pang of loneliness struck me in the heart. First Caellan and Mr. Kasumova, and now even Kenna was ready to abandon me for some murderous Ijinisljin girl.

"Look, Sera," Kenna said fiercely. "You're my big sister. I'll always love you. Even when I was rude and selfish, you were willing to literally burn at the stake for me. But this is our one chance to escape, to go somewhere where we can both be safe and happy, and I'm going to take it - even if you won't," she added softly, trying to sugarcoat the cruelty of her words.

"I get it," I spat, ignoring the twinge in my heart as hurt flickered across her face. "I'm not enough for you. Well, I'm sorry that I'm not cool and magical like you, but at least I'm not an idiot. Next time, just let me burn at the stake. Death would be better than this."

I spun away, my cheeks flushed red-hot with anger and shame. As I stalked away, my feet slapping the cobblestones, Kenna and the girl whispered about me.

"Jeez, that was harsh," Amina remarked, a glimmer of approval in her tone. If anything, that only made me more infuriated. I didn't want the Ijinisljin girl to like me. What did her appreciation say about my morals?

"Yeah, it was," Kenna said pointedly, raising her voice.

I curled my fingers into fists, but I kept walking. Kenna was soft; I had protected her for her entire life, and if she was too ungrateful to recognize that, then she deserved to face the consequences. Maybe now she would finally see that life wasn't all magic and pretty Ijinisljin girls.

"You don't need her," I told myself as I walked, staring into the shadows that seemed to grow in my wake. "You don't need her," I repeated until my body stopped shaking and my heart stopped pounding. But the farther away I got, the more I realized I was wrong.

"Kenna!" I cried, turning around, but my shout was cut short as a large, calloused hand grabbed my wrists and yanked them behind my back.

"Don't move a muscle."