Chapter 26
Jane
That bloody hourglass had become the worst part of my days. I often wondered if Seraphyn had cursed it or altered its duration, because that minute couldn’t possibly still be a minute.
Joy was years ahead.
She had mastered minor charms, summoning forks or glasses into her palm.
It had started clumsily. One glass had slipped and splashed berry wine across Gwinifer’s lap, but after a month of tutoring, the command had become natural.
She had managed to hold a ward over herself for a few fleeting seconds, her delicate hands shimmering with a buttery light.
She’d even begun to practise how to fling. Fling.
She looked lighter somehow, less tired. It made me wonder if I had grown used to the wearied version of her, and this eager person, striding intently to practice, was the natural version of herself.
A version where she wasn’t worried about episodes, because she understood they were just a flux and kept the pendant ready at her neck if needed.
It also made me wonder why our experiences were so different. If I could manage a ward, it would change everything. I caught myself imagining it. The hourglass finally moving or one of Hildegard’s weekly examinations showing a different result.
Sometimes, when I imagined that happening, I found myself having some indulgent little fantasies.
Slipping a folded result paper in front of Reagan’s plate at dinner.
In my mind, he picked it up, thinking it was just another petition, then lifted his eyes to mine.
Surprise would shine there before he would smile.
I didn’t know which I wanted more: the result, or for him to look at me. Just look. It bothered me that he didn’t anymore, and I knew it shouldn’t. I had told him I didn’t want him. Lie or not, I had no right to demand his attention now.
He and Finn were still trying to secure an invitation to Banfgaard. Based on the irritated looks I had seen at dinner, there seemed to be bad blood between them and Finn’s uncles, some grievance that not even Finn seemed inclined to explain.
Everyone was tensely focused on the recent tragedy, which had sown unmistakable fear throughout the city. The Audience was full, and the Hall’s doors were open to anyone seeking shelter, yet so far, citizens had preferred to remain in their homes.
Though I wanted to help the staff, I forced my focus onto the tutors and onto trying to draw from my access. The sentence mark on my arm, shaped like Mountheim, was a constant reminder that I had a deadline.
Kellan’s lessons were less frequent but still regular, leaning toward theory rather than practice.
He spoke to Joy and me about Mountheim’s long history and its mageborn traditions.
Rituals of bonding and union. Fields of study they pursued, from law and defence to research and craft.
Magisters and battle mages. Arcanists and alchemists who enabled the estate’s power sources.
Technical paths too, like runesmiths, seamstresses, and healers.
For divination, I still relied on Laerune to siphon her mana to me as I grew used to the Sight.
Each lesson felt like splitting my head apart, though the headaches hurt less now.
It was like falling asleep and dreaming of a freezing abyss with threads made of light.
I knew I was close to fainting when the petals fell, sealing my eyes shut.
Joy and I trained combat with Gwin and Astrid when we could, though not every day. I barely slept and had to save what little energy I had for when Seraphyn siphoned her mana through me. That left pain blooming in every muscle in my body.
We spent the evenings by my father’s bedside until Joy fell asleep.
After that, I tried to sleep and when I couldn’t, I would either move or read a volume on estate governance, since the order had come out that flinging to Mountheim was suspended.
It was so tedious that eventually my body just gave out.
Even then, I managed to find useful protocols, like a system of sigils for estates on alert that worked like a magical signal flare.
In some cases, with additional approval from the other end, they could even open portals.
Then the next morning, I would wake with a book on my pillow, and it would all begin again.
◆◆◆
“It’s still dripping,” someone said.
“Bring more cloth,” Laerune ordered, her voice carrying an unusual edge of urgency.
My eyelids felt heavy. It took effort to prise my eyes open, and when I did, the room swayed. My head rested in someone’s lap, steady hands cupping the sides of my face.
“Jane, can you hear me?” Joy asked.
“She can. Give her a moment,” Gwin said. From the closeness, it was her lap beneath my head.
The vision returned in pieces. There were strangers and heat building behind my eyes.
All faceless, except him. And Gwin. I had tried to see more of that street, the same one from my nightmares, and understand why Reagan and Gwinifer were there.
But pressure had slammed hard against my skull.
I remembered nothing else beyond knowing Laerune had just siphoned her mana to me in the midst of a divination lesson.
It was the second time I’d fainted during her lesson, waking with my body as heavy as stone and something wet on my face. Yet, I had managed to see something.
“Did someone throw water on me?” I asked, blinking.
“Worse,” Gwin said, her blurry form hovering above me. “It’s blood.”
“Blood?” I blinked as she brushed a soft fabric over my face.
“Bleeding is a sign of exhaustion,” Laerune said. “You reached beyond what your body could sustain.”
“Is that normal?” Joy asked.
“Now that she’s tapping more of her Sight, yes,” Laerune replied. “But exerting herself means she will need more rest.”
I stared at the ceiling of our usual practice room as Gwin withdrew the cloth, my blood darkening the beige fabric.
“I swear I ate enough before this,” I said.
Laerune’s narrow brows drew together. “I believe we should suspend your lessons for a short time. All of them. Have you been sleeping well?”
“That depends on your definition of well,” I said, trying to lift my head. Gwin helped me sit up.
“If you had slept well, I believe you would have endured that vision for longer.”
“No,” I answered. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Then that must be addressed first. Without proper rest, you will not progress.”
I bit back a curse. I was already moving at a glacial pace.
I needed the divination lessons to look into Reagan’s threads and attempt to find if they had been tampered with. It dawned on me again that I had seen him in the vision. Perhaps I was closer to finding his specific thread during practice.
“Miss Darling?” Laerune prompted.
I blinked back to her. “I’m sorry. Did you say something else?”
Her thin lips flattened. “I did. I’m cancelling all your lessons for a week. You will rest.”
A week felt excessive, especially if it meant missing spellcraft lessons as well.
“I cannot stop now,” I said, trying to sound a little more alert. “I saw him. I think I can follow his thread now and look for the proof we need.”
Three pairs of eyes narrowed on me.
“Who did you see?” Joy asked.
“She saw the Mage Lord,” Laerune said, settling onto the couch across from me.
“And I saw you,” I said to Gwin, who lifted one brow slightly. “You both were on the same street I keep seeing. I think it is a future thread. But I need to look into his past threads.”
“What were we doing in your vision?” Gwin asked.
“You were just there,” I murmured, trying to remember more. “Watching. But I passed out before I could learn anything else. I need to keep trying. It’s giving me more every time. I just don’t know how to look into the past.”
Laerune folded her hands. “If you are able to walk through the thread, we could divine for the Mage Lord. But after you rest for a week. We’ll revisit this then and search for the threads you need.”
Gwin hummed, watching as she seemed to deliberate. I didn’t even know how she and Joy had arrived. Laerune had probably sent for them.
“When you dreamt of your sister, your vision warned you of what would happen, didn’t it?” Gwin asked.
I nodded, and something stirred faintly in the back of my mind, like a thought rising to the surface.
“Maybe this future vision is a warning too,” Gwin said. “Maybe we should ask you to look into his future threads as well.”