Chapter 24 Sofie
Chapter twenty-four
Sofie
It was strange, being back at Dewspell. As if everything was smaller or larger than I remembered, as if the proportions of everything had changed while I was away.
My rooms felt like a palace after so long stuck aboard ships. The laboratories and stores seemed small and quaint, but ever efficient. The dining hall was cavernous and lonely, even as sorcerers and students from my past started to notice I was back and came to greet me.
The library, of course, was still too large to fathom.
None of it felt right.
After a day of hiding in my rooms, I looked up my old suitemate from my last year as a student. Fig—who was technically still a princess—was gladder to see me than I had a right to hope for. She, too, was the recipient of a fairy godmother’s gifts.
I guess she was lucky there were no balancers like me when she was young.
“Welcome home,” she said, her pale blue eyes sparkling beneath dark, wild eyebrows as she folded me into a huge hug.
She was still wearing her work apron, stained with potion ingredients.
Fig was always forgetting to take it off.
“I heard you had such an ordeal. You must be so glad to be safe at Dewspell!”
Was I safe? I didn’t know. While I was out of Blackbeard’s reach, and safe from the Bride forever, I was still Captain Bluebeard’s wife. He’d asked Dewspell for the impossible. In another year, he might return to claim me.
Right now, I didn’t know if I’d be relieved to see him again, or if I’d fight him. A year from now, I’d be so entrenched in life at Dewspell, I wouldn’t want to leave.
At least that’s what I told myself. But every time I looked into the bay, I couldn’t help but feel a tug at my heartstrings. I may have gone about it the long way, but I had inherited an Aeglean’s love of the sea after all.
Instead of saying all this, I smiled at Fig. She was always so open and warm—something I’d found off-putting when she’d been assigned to my suite in her first year at Dewspell. I’d soon learned it meant I could talk to her about anything.
But I couldn’t talk to her about this. Not yet.
“I have a favor to ask,” I said once we’d caught up over a lunch of succulent roast pheasant and fresh vegetables. It was the sort of fresh faire I never could’ve gotten aboard Carabosse, despite Mr. Smalt’s cooking wizardry. “During my adventures at sea, there was a tragedy and, well…”
Why was this so hard to say?
“I did my best,” I concluded.
Fig’s eyes softened. “You were always so lost when it came to healing.”
I tried to shrug, but it probably looked like a quick shoulder stretch. “It isn’t really conducive to chaos magic.”
“Actually, I’ve always found the opposite to be true.” Fig brightened immediately, then stopped herself from launching into an academic chat. “Is this about the two pirates in the healing ward?”
“Sort of.” I winced. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be in that situation again—I hope I won’t be—but I don’t want to be helpless if something does happen.
I managed to heal myself fairly well after all that practice, but when it comes to others?
It’s like I’m stuck at a novice’s level. I never thought I’d say this, but…”
I swallowed. Fig leaned over the table expectantly, ignoring the way her potions-smudged apron dipped into the buttery sheen left on her plate. “But?” she prompted, all eagerness.
Oh, Fig. Since the day I’d met her, it was like she’d hardly changed at all, despite everything she’d gone through. And here I’d changed so much. We should’ve felt like strangers.
But for the first time since Jax left me here, I was starting to feel just a little more at home.
“Can you tutor me in healing magic?” I said at last, closing my eyes as I swallowed my pride.
At the sound of Fig clapping her hands together in excitement, they flew open.
“It’s about time!” she crowed. “I always say, a fairy godmother had best be prepared for anything! Whatever you went through, I’m glad to know you finally see the perks of magic not used for destruction.”
I blinked at that. “I can’t help it if that’s what I’m most gifted at.”
Fig wagged a finger at me, reminding me of half a dozen professors here at Dewspell. “You never liked pursuing things you weren’t gifted at.”
“Master Aynia always said I had a stubborn streak,” I admitted, my stomach flipping at the thought of what my mentor and academic advisor would say when she heard about this. I pushed that thought aside, unwilling to deal with it just yet.
Once, I believed Fig just couldn’t fathom someone being disinterested in healing magic. Now, I saw how wrong I was. She had been out in the world on a journey of her own once, long before she graduated and became a fairy godmother. She knew how important it could be.
And like a stubborn fool, I hadn’t listened.
She was right about another thing. I never did pursue the things I found trying. Whether it was my shield-maiden training on Aegle, dancing, healing magic, or even my budding relationship with Jax, I’d always been quick to give up.
The difference with the latter was that he’d given up on me, too.
It was too late to fix it, or even to help Oasis and Omar. But this—this I could do.
“When do we start?” I asked Fig.
The broad, mischievous smile spreading onto her face made me second guess my decision at once. “Got any plans for the rest of the day?”
I could’ve made an excuse and said I needed to call on Master Aynia—something I’d been avoiding. But I swallowed my nerves, and my fear of embarrassing myself with magic that I had no affinity for, and gave Fig a solemn shake of the head.
I could do this. If I could learn something—anything—maybe it would save someone else from heartache in the future.
“Then let’s bus our trays and head up to my lab.” Fig’s grin widened. “Oh, yes, I have a lab of my own now—right next to the Library.”
Now that was different. As Fig cracked her knuckles, a lump formed in my throat.
“What did I just sign up for?” I grumbled.
Fig, of course, was undeterred. “This is going to be so much fun.”
The next few days were spent practicing healing spells with Fig in her laboratory, poring over spellbooks from one of the libraries, and following her through the healing wards. I went to bed exhausted each night.
But never too exhausted to think.
Why did I miss the sea so much? Why did I miss Jax? It was clear he’d never valued me. I shouldn’t want someone who didn’t actually want me—the real me, not some altruistic, sanitized version trying to nobly save him from the curse.
Of course, there had never been anything noble about it. I’d relished the challenge, and the idea of facing off with a powerful sorceress’s death magic. I’d been so sure this was the opportunity of a lifetime, the chance to grow my own abilities.
I was so naive. The weeks that followed left people dead and others gravely injured. They’d shown me my own weaknesses, my own hubris. And they’d left my heart in pieces.
So I could not sleep easily, despite my fatigue. Nor could I give up on learning healing, even if every day I spent trying to force the magical threads of chaos into re-binding and rebuilding left me feeling as though I’d hiked Aegle’s mountains in winter.
I felt stuck, and sometimes trapped, even as I enjoyed my freedom from the curse and life back on land.
It was as if my old life no longer fit me, no matter how comfortable I felt here at Dewspell.
So I did what I always had when I needed guidance: I finally sent a calling card to my mentor, seeking an appointment.
I had an invitation to have tea with Master Aynia within the hour.