Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
It is impossible to know how often magicians are struck on the anvil of the sky.
There is no discernable pattern. Yet magicians ruled by the two luminaries, the Sun and the Moon, are by far the rarest, followed closely by those of Saturn.
The Moon has had no recorded births* and the Sun has had three in the past century of recordkeeping.
*Amendment: one recorded birth
—PROSPERO THE ALL-KNOWING, THE CELESTIAL BODIES
The first time I was ripped from my magic, the sky outside was a blank, cruel face. It must have happened each month since I was born, but I didn’t understand it until I was five, six, seven, when I’d begun experimenting with transformation, turning into a mouse or cat to hide from my father.
Each month, all the emotions in the inn—those nails against my skull—suddenly, gone.
The world was quiet. I did not know anger or boredom or fear.
I had to read facial expressions like everyone else, knowing what was shown was not necessarily what was felt.
For how many times had I smiled sweetly while my fury thrashed inside of me?
I sank to my knees before Kitty Seton. Within seconds, my magic drained out of me. I was stripped of all my natural defenses. A wolf with no fangs.
As her mind slipped through my fingers, my body shrank, Roland’s clothes hanging loose. My features softened, my white hair tumbling to my hips.
She clutched the little dog tighter to her chest. “Well. I suppose the two of you thought you might trick me.”
“Roland knows nothing of this.”
“Really?” Her eyes were wide and mocking. “Or are you trying to protect him? You’re asking questions about the prince’s death. Why?”
“He was my friend.”
“Friend. Indeed.” I couldn’t feel her emotions.
I couldn’t feel anything at all. What did she know of me and Hal?
“Suppose we start there.” She lifted her chin, examining me dexterously from head to toe, like a needle plunging in and out.
“Do not lie. I despise liars, and I am sure you are an accomplished one. I’d like the truth. ”
“The truth?” I breathed.
“You loved him.”
I ground my teeth. “Who?” I would withhold her satisfaction for as long as I could.
“The prince.”
“What manner of love do you speak of?”
She hesitated for a moment, then shushed the squirming dog, scratching its ear. “You wanted him. You chased after him. After Roland left for Lionesse, you and the prince were often together.”
Now my heart raced. A shake of my head. “No.”
Her smirk lit up her face, as if she’d held a candle beneath it. “Good. That’s very good. For I have no powers, mind-leech, but I listen at doors. I saw all of his other women coming and going.” She watched to see if she’d rattled me. Not yet.
She lifted the dog up to her lips, kissed its flat head.
“There were several he liked in particular. One was very pretty, very dull minded. I don’t remember who her father was—some knight, I suppose.
He liked dark-haired women, and she had raven hair.
He asked if I’d ensure his father’s private chapel was emptied.
I did, of course. They were so mad for one another they had each other on the pews his father prayed on. Can you imagine it?”
My fist clenched, and she smiled to see she’d finally affected me.
“Now, you seem just as infatuated with the lord chancellor.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“You must think so little of the rest of us. Our minds are your feasts. So that’s why I—” She touched my hand, and we were both cold and trembling. “I ensure all my thoughts are poison.”
I fled. When I finally slammed my door shut, relieved to find my rooms empty, I ducked into my wardrobe and curled up there, knees to chin, in complete and total darkness. I breathed in through my nose and out my mouth until I wasn’t shaking anymore.
I supposed the sky would turn. I supposed the sun would rise, flooding the gardens with light. For now, I let my tears remind me I felt deeply, more than I ever allowed myself to admit.
Roland’s coat and doublet smelled of him. I held them up to my nose so I could inhale his scent instead of the old, mildewed wood and my own vomit. On my journey back to my rooms I’d thrown up, stumbled and cut myself somewhere, but I struggled to find the source of pain. There was too much of it.
“So weak,” Miranda had said, her eyes cruel slits.
“So weak.” My father.
Now, Kitty. “I despise liars, and I am sure you are an accomplished one.”
I was.
She was right about Roland. Didn’t I track his movements through a room? Didn’t some primal being steal my breath whenever he was near? If she had thought to ask me such pointed questions, perhaps I would have told her the truth. I would confess I was full of sin. I would tell her yes.
I clutched Roland’s coat and breathed in deep until I was completely full of him, and that was how I drifted off to sleep.