Chapter One
I rushed into the magician’s study, my skirts whipping at my legs, my arms full of clay jars, and my heart full of fear.
It hadn’t always been this way, with fear ruling my life.
Years ago, when I was a girl, the magician had seemed like a guardian, a caring protector.
He was my first love, my first kiss, my first role model.
But once I started to learn magic and master it with skill, he had changed.
No longer did I play with childish magic, training rodents as pets or opening flowers in a field.
Non, real magic affected the hearts and minds of people, and Adolphe’s behavior towards me changed as quickly as if I’d cast a spell on him.
When he used to speak to me with kind words, he now barked demands and insults.
Where we had once worked side by side, he now banished me from the study and relegated me to demeaning cleaning and gathering chores.
When once he had touched me with love and adoration, he now delivered his harsh words with a smack or a slap.
And I was disappearing.
Not really, not like magical disappearing where something is no longer present at all. Non, disappearing into myself, losing what I used to be, a cherubic girl who loved to play with her guardian and magic.
Now every aspect of magic frightened me, or worried me, as I waited for a curse or a heavy hand. I no longer smiled, and my once-shiny chestnut hair had become ashen, stringy. I had taken to sleeping in the kitchens, as I didn’t want Adolphe to find me.
And it suited. I was treated as nothing more than a servant in what had once been my home. Why not sleep where the servants do?
“Salome! Where are you with my concoctions? Even a fool could work faster than you!”
Adolphe’s harsh words exploded from his darkened study and carried into the hall where I juggled the jars. I held my breath as I walked, afraid of what he might do if I dropped a jar, or even almost dropped one . . .
I rushed into the study and placed the jars on his disheveled worktable. Gone were the days where I perched on the table and watched him work. Now I cowered behind it.
“Took you long enough,” Adolph threw over his shoulder at me.
He faced his bookshelf, lifting the lids off glass jars and sniffing.
Though his study was large, with vaulted ceilings reinforced with wood beams and a single long window at the far side of the room, Adolphe still took up so much space.
He was tall, taller than most other men I’d met, limited though that might be, and his black velveteen cloak added to his dramatic flair.
The olive undertone to his skin prevented him from appearing washed out, even in the dim light of the wall sconces.
“I had to find the right jars. There were so many in the cellar –”
“If you paid better attention, then maybe you’d find what you were looking for in a more timely manner.” His tone grew more harsh as he spoke.
“I’m sorry, I —”
“I don’t want to hear your paltry excuses,” Adolphe bit back. “Now put the jars in the center of the table, with the earwig dust closest to me. Then leave and make yourself useful by cleaning the rooms in this tower. You’ve let it become filthy.”
I bowed my head, trying to hide in the folds of my stained gray gown. When was the last time I’d worn a brightly hued gown, or one of rich jeweled tones? Or even a new one? Months? Years? This one lost all its color and barely reached my ankles.
“Yes, Adolphe,” I answered, casting my eyes at the floor.
He grumbled to himself as I picked up the jars and moved them as he asked.
I had grabbed the last one when it slipped from my shaking fingers onto the table.
The jar didn’t break, thank the stars, I thought in a panic, but the contents – powdered dung from the smell of it – spilled all over the table and his assorted papers and herbs.
My hands froze. Maybe I could clean it up before he saw. Maybe I –
Adolphe stopped his grumbling and whirled around. His black eyes blazed in his face, and I shrunk back from him.
“’Tis only the dung. I can clean it –”
Adolphe’s hand slammed onto the table with such force, all the jars clinked on the table, threatening to fall over.
They didn’t, and I released a slow, shaky breath. Then I looked up at Adolphe and cowered back more.
“Get you gone from here. You are as useless as a cane for a bird.”