17. Chapter 17 #3
“Compromising positions?” Maxine hacks out.
“Your memories can’t be any worse than mine,” Bella says to me. I stare at her speechlessly as she slams her eyes shut.
What memories is she keeping that cause her so much torment?
“I can’t do it,” she groans after a few minutes, releasing her grip on my hands.
“You can,” Priestess Seraphina encourages her. “Try again.”
“It won’t work,” Bella exasperates. “The walls of Shay’s memories are too solid. It’s like trying to break down a dam with a trickle of water.”
The priestess’s brows furrow. “Try it with someone else.”
Bella grabs Maxine’s hands instead, who murmurs something quietly about Bella being an inky stain on the land. The two of them sit together in silence, the glittering light weaving around their clasped arms, only for Bella’s eyes to fly open as she gasps for breath.
“What did you see?” the priestess asks from the edge of her seat.
“Everything,” Bella chokes out, taking a swig of her juice. “I saw everything. Including the moment when Maxine lost her—”
“Don’t.” Maxine slams her fist on the table. “That is between me and Galien. You were not invited.”
“Right.” Bella rubs her eyes, as if wishing she could unsee it.
The priestess’s lips curve upward. “Wonderful Bella, now pick a memory and alter it.”
“What?” Bella gasps.
“What?” Maxine snarls.
The priestess gives them both a slight wave of her hand. “Oh, you needn’t choose anything important. Just pick a memory that seems meaningless and alter it slightly.”
“How will she know which memory is meaningless?” Maxine’s voice pitches up an octave, her eyes widening in panic. “Can’t she try it on Lily instead?” She motions toward Lily. “Her brain is a sack of potatoes the way it is. Alter one potato, and the rest won’t notice.”
Lily stuffs a knife into Maxine’s buttered croissant.
“Guys, stop fighting,” I mutter half-heartedly, though I’m half-curious to see what would happen if they kept going.
“It’s fine. I doubt that I can manipulate anyone’s memories anyway,” Bella sighs. “This is a waste of time.”
“You’ll never know unless you try.” The priestess’s eyes twinkle in delight.
Bella sighs, then looks to Maxine. “You know the memory of him breaking your heart in the rain? The real reason for why you came to the castle?
Maxine clenches her fists. “Yeah,” she whispers.
“I can alter it,” Bella whispers.
I have no idea what they’re talking about, but I’m assuming it has to do with the particular memory Bella just intruded on.
Maxine clutches Bella’s hands as a tear trickles down her cheek. “Do your worst,” she whispers back. A tendril of golden light escapes from Bella’s fingertips and winds its way around Maxine’s arm, and in response, Maxine’s tears trickle away, and her lips curve upward.
“It’s gone,” Bella says, giving her hand a pat. Maxine looks back at her, confused, then withdraws her hands into her lap.
“Beautiful, Bella!” the priestess exclaims with an approving nod. “Now imagine what you could do to your enemies with a power such as that.”
“Wait, why didn’t it work on Shadow?” Lily blurts out, turning the bittersweet moment into something callous and sharp. Priestess Seraphina’s gaze locks on mine from across the table, her neck whipping toward me so fast, it’s like she’s cataloguing her own reasons as to why the memory spell failed.
“Shadow, how about you go next,” she says, her brows raising. “Why don’t you share with us which power you possess?”
I stuff a scone into my mouth as I contemplate how I’m going to untangle myself from this situation. When that doesn’t work, I say, “Why doesn’t Maxine go first?”
Maxine opens her hand without hesitation and gives birth to a flurry of flames, which she uses to light a nearby candlestick. But first, she lights up her pile of bracelets and then starts swirling them in a circle, like a fiery lasso.
“Do you want to burn down this entire fucking castle?” Lily scolds her.
“I mean… sort of,” Maxine remarks, setting the bracelets back onto the table and watching their embers die out, only for the little flames to catch the tablecloth. Lily attempts to swat out their embers with her handkerchief but fails miserably.
“Very good, Maxine,” Priestess Seraphina says as she scoops up a glass of water and dumps it over the fire, simmering it instantly. “But unfortunately, Miss Leibe is right. It’s better if we refrain from burning down the castle. Shadow, it’s your turn.”
I balk at her in protestation.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” Solara says, materializing from somewhere behind me.
“Do it now,” she hisses, jerking me to attention.
Mind spinning, I obey her command. Only for raindrops to begin pitter-pattering from the ceiling, pinging off cups and wedging into pastries, rendering everything soggy except for the half-eaten scone in my grasp.
Somehow, Solara has managed to ruin our sugar-filled lunch and snuff out the candlestick that Maxine just lit, all without breaking a sweat.
“You’re a Stormwielder,” the priestess says, staring at me in disbelief. “Your spellmark must be a raindrop. May I see?”
Solara gives me a curt nod and then evaporates into mist. Thankfully, I don’t have to feign an answer to the priestess, because the door flies open again, this time sending my thumping heart sailing straight into the pit of my stomach, where it splats against my vital organs and knocks the wind out of my chest.
Perfect timing.