The Reimagining of Thornwood House

One

I must say, I find your conduct disappointing, Ms. Sharpe," said Mr. Cinton, who peered across the table at Evie with a beady-eyed stare. The chairman of the Environmental Crisis Response Agency's adoption committee had feathery white hair that reminded Evie of a messy cloud bank. Tiny wire-frame glasses perched on the tip of his thin nose. "For you to go behind our backs in this manner is disrespectful and highly irregular."

The rest of the committee, which included Mr. Tansling, the child advocate, and Mrs. Shields, the head of departmental resources, sat on either side of Cinton, their hands folded on the heavy oak table that divided them from Evie.

They were waiting for her to speak. Evie drew herself up and took a steadying breath. You can do this, she reminded herself. The wheels were already in motion. Now she just had to follow through, for herself and for Ruby.

"I apologize for any misunderstanding," Evie began, "but I fail to see how I've offered the ECRA any disrespect in this matter." She looked at each of the committee members in turn. "I've acted completely within the agency's rules in applying for a new position as caretaker of Thornwood house."

"Your position is that of an earthwalker," Mr. Cinton insisted, as if Evie could have possibly forgotten the job title she'd held for the past seven years. "The ECRA has trained you to be among the first teams on the ground in the event of a natural disaster. Your magic and expertise are put to their best use in that capacity." He waved the letter that Cinda Cartwright had sent to Evie. "Now, after the considerable amount of time and care this organization has invested in you, you've taken it upon yourself to cast it all aside in order to travel to a remote village, for no better reason than to act as a country healer and renovate a house."

"A sentient house," Evie pointed out, emphasizing the distinction. She'd spent countless late nights studying the ECRA's policies and employee regulations, at the same time poring over her own contract to look for a way to quit the agency.

There hadn't been one.

According to the terms of an agreement she'd signed when she was eighteen years old and believed in the ECRA's mission with all her naïve little heart, she was yoked to the agency for a period of not less than twenty years.

Unless.

Evie had grabbed that one little word and held on to it for dear life.

Unless she transferred to a position that directly supported the ECRA's ancillary mission of preserving and protecting magical resources throughout the world.

"According to agency records," Evie went on, "there are fewer than twenty sentient houses remaining in the world. The ECRA have made multiple public statements showing their commitment to preserving these magical phenomena."

She looked to the rest of the committee for support. Even if Cinton missed the implication of what she'd said, she hoped the others wouldn't be so obtuse. "Surely, there can be no objection to me embracing the importance of that commitment, even if it means relinquishing my current role within the agency."

"Is that what this is really about?" Mrs. Shields asked, speaking for the first time since the proceedings had begun. The older woman's silky gray hair was coiled in tight braids atop her head, woven with ribbons that set off her tawny skin. A crystal-topped cane that doubled as a wand rested near her chair.

People often said that Evie possessed a penetrating stare, that her blue eyes darkened to storm gray when she was angry. Evie thought this was an exaggeration and that the people who had made those observations had never come under the power of Mrs. Shields's sharp, assessing gaze.

"Did you apply for the position as caretaker because you truly believe in that cause," Mrs. Shields continued her questioning, "or did you do it because the committee expressed misgivings about approving the adoption of your apprentice and ward, Ruby Keeler?"

Evie's palms were sweating as she inclined her head in Mrs. Shields's direction, trying not to betray her nervousness. She couldn't afford a misstep here. "It's true, when the committee expressed their concerns regarding the dangers of my position as an earthwalker, and how that might make me an . . . undesirable candidate to adopt Ruby, I took those words to heart." Evie tried to ignore the bitter taste in her mouth.

Undesirable. They'd actually used that word.

"However," she went on, "though the committee's concerns played a part in my decision, I did not make the choice to leave lightly, and I do believe the preservation of magical phenomena like Thornwood house is of vital importance." She lifted her chin, ready to deliver the final blow. "Consider my background and family history, if you need further proof."

Her words had the desired effect. Tansling and Cinton exchanged glances, and Evie thought she detected a spark of approval in Mrs. Shields's gaze as she tapped an aqua-colored fingernail against the head of her cane. Evie didn't like invoking her family's position in the magical community. It was a part of her life she'd left behind. But for Ruby, she would use every advantage she had.

"The committee notes your words," Mrs. Shields said. She looked down the table at Mr. Tansling. "In light of these developments, would the advocate care to speak on the status of the adoption?"

The final hurdle, Evie thought, forcing herself to breathe normally. Everything she and Ruby had worked for, planned for, since Ruby had been assigned to her four years ago-all their hopes rested on Mr. Tansling's judgment.

Mr. Tansling looked to be in his late thirties, with straight, sandy hair and dark-brown eyes, impeccably dressed in a crisp gray suit and matching tie. He smiled a great deal and had an amiable air in general. Evie hadn't had as many interactions with him as Ruby had over the past several months. What stood out to her was something Ruby had observed after she'd first met the man.

"It feels like he already has the next thing he's going to say planned out, no matter what I tell him," she'd said.

Mr. Tansling shuffled some papers and glanced over at Evie with a smile that was probably intended to be kind, except it looked like he'd practiced the expression by studying a wax doll.

"I'm sure you and Miss Keeler are anxious to have this matter resolved," he said. "While it's true that you've assuaged some of my concerns regarding your fitness to adopt Miss Keeler, I'm afraid there are certain doubts that remain."

"Oh?" Evie felt a flush creep up her neck, but she forced herself to ignore his patronizing tone and spoke with all the politeness she could summon. "I wonder that there can be any doubts about my capabilities. Ruby came into my care when she was seven years old. She's eleven now, and has become a capable farseer witch under my tutelage-"

Mr. Tansling raised his hand to stop her, that facsimile of a smile still fixed in place. "Rest assured, all that has been taken into consideration." He cleared his throat. "Forgive me for stating the matter bluntly, but being her teacher is not the same as being her parent. Your inexperience in that area is one of my concerns, and, as Mr. Cinton pointed out, going behind the committee's back and applying for a position outside the ECRA's jurisdiction hardly does you credit. It points to a lack of maturity, which isn't surprising, given that you're only twenty-five years old."

"I didn't go behind anyone's back-" Evie cut herself off. Her voice had risen in frustration, causing Mr. Tansling's brow to arch.

And just like that, she was losing control of the conversation. Were they really going to deny her this, after everything she'd given the ECRA? She hadn't been considered too young to risk her life for the agency, and she'd done so countless times over the last seven years. She'd earned pebble-like scars along her collarbone from hurricane debris, walked through forest fire smoke as black as her hair, and broken more bones than she cared to count. Even if they never acknowledged it, she knew she was one of the best earthwalkers they had.

She'd never asked for a single thing from them in return, until now.

"In addition"-Mr. Cinton again waved the letter from the mayor of Iskendra-"it sounds as if this position as caretaker is a tenuous offer at best. Ms. Cartwright admits in her correspondence that the house has rejected all previous applicants." He sniffed. "What makes you believe you will succeed where others have failed?"

Evie met his gaze. In this, at least, she could summon confidence. "I may be inexperienced as a parent"-four years, I've cared for Ruby, raising her as my own-"but my record as a land witch and an earthwalker in the ECRA is exemplary, and I possess all the traits Ms. Cartwright spoke of as necessary to restore Thornwood house." She raised an eyebrow. "Am I wrong in that assessment?"

"You are not," Mrs. Shields acknowledged. "The committee has taken that into consideration as well, and we have decided to put forth this compromise." She glanced at the other members, who nodded for her to continue, though Cinton seemed as if he would have liked to keep on lecturing Evie. "We will grant you leave to pursue the position in Iskendra on a trial basis for the next four months. If you are accepted as caretaker, the leave will become permanent, and we will release you from your contract."

Evie held her breath. It sounded too good to be true. "And the adoption?" she pressed.

Mr. Cinton and Mr. Tansling shared a glance, but it was Cinton who spoke. "As advocate, Mr. Tansling will conduct a final interview with Miss Keeler before you leave. Provided the adoption is still what she wants, we will approve it, on the condition that you are accepted as caretaker of Thornwood house. However . . ."

Here it comes, Evie thought.

"If, for any reason, you are unable to secure the position of caretaker, you and Miss Keeler will return to the ECRA, where you will stay with the agency as an earthwalker, for the duration of your contract, without seeking employment elsewhere."

Evie remained silent, turning the offer over in her mind. This was a gray area, and everyone here knew it. Not that it came as a shock to her. Gray areas were where the ECRA lived and breathed.

Technically, they were within their rights to summon Evie back if she wasn't accepted as caretaker, but they didn't have the authority to prevent her from seeking employment with a different organization that worked toward the preservation of magical resources.

No, this was all about control. Now that she'd found a loophole in her contract, the ECRA wanted to close it. They didn't like surrendering power, and they didn't want to lose one of their best earthwalkers, not to mention a farseer like Ruby.

That wasn't the worst of it. If she and Ruby were forced to return, if Evie had to continue as an earthwalker, with all the dangers that job entailed, the committee would have the justification they needed to deny the adoption and separate them for good.

It was unimaginable. Evie knew if she let herself think about that outcome, it would destroy the facade of calm she'd built to face the committee.

Gray areas and a devil's bargain-she should have expected nothing less from the ECRA.

But if she agreed to their terms and successfully became the caretaker . . .

Evie didn't even have to consider it. If it meant that Ruby would be her daughter, forever and always, she'd promise the ECRA the moon, and then she'd find a way to get it for them.

In the end, what she was actually promising was going to be much easier-not to mention more pleasurable-to accomplish. She just had to become the caretaker to an aging sentient house, in a quiet little village, far from the ECRA's influence. Cinda Cartwright had declared that all it would take was time, patience, and magical resources.

Evie had those in abundance. Compared to what she had faced being an earthwalker, this job would be a dream.

"I'll do it," she vowed.

Two

Evie held her battered brown suitcase in one hand and a fistful of earth in the other. A warm pulse snaked up her arm from the loamy soil. It spoke to her of spreading roots, of primrose and milkweed flourishing in patches by the roadside. It was a greeting, and though it wasn't expressed in words, Evie felt the welcome in it, and her magic responded. The land here was very present. Curious and watchful.

In a similar vein, Ruby observed her from beneath her strawberry-blond bangs. The rest of her hair spilled halfway down her back, tied with a small, shimmery green scarf. She had a round face and watchful blue eyes and carried a patched cloth travel bag that she shifted from one shoulder to the other. "What do you think?" she asked hopefully. "Is it a good place?"

"Yes, I think so." Evie let the expressive soil sift through her fingers. Earthworms and summer rains-the feelings drifted away on the wind. "We should get going," she said, indicating the narrow gravel track that curved south along the outskirts of the Thornwood. "It's about two miles from here to the house. Do you want me to carry your bag for you?"

"I've got it," Ruby said. The child's eyes sparkled. She was already bouncing on the balls of her feet, like a deer eager to play. It had been a long train ride for an eleven-year-old, though Evie felt much the same. She was more than ready to stretch her legs.

In the distance, the train gave one final, piercing whistle as it lumbered away from the station, severing their last link to Dorna City. Evie closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. Her shoulders loosened; the tension in her neck and jaw eased. And for a moment, the land sighed with her, as if it too had felt her lingering anxiety.

If this was how she reacted just getting off the train, she was going to be a mess when she actually set eyes on the house and village.

But wasn't that how it always went? You don't realize how much you need to get away-from a city, a job, something that's been slowly draining you-until you actually take the first steps.

Evie should have tried to leave years ago, and she knew it.

None of that mattered now. They'd taken those steps. Maybe they'd been shaky, and there'd been plenty of scrapes and stumbles along the way, but that didn't matter either. What mattered was that they were here, and the land had welcomed them.