Former lake, really, and now a rotten mud pit. I’d searched hard for water, sending out my magic in an attempt to feel it as I had so easily when we passed under the river in Ardare. There had been a little, deep undergound, and I’d tried to call it up. It hadn’t answered, though I couldn’t say why. I’d expended a great deal of magical energy in the attempt.
Magic that hadn’t replenished. At least, not right away, as it should have from the rich magic of Tyrea. The loss had left a gaping hole in me.
The magic had returned within hours, leaving me feeling as normal as I ever did anymore. I decided I’d try again instead of going to sleep, to see what would happen. There was a good chance, I reasoned, that this was related to my new-found aversion. My fear.
I couldn’t ask Ulric for advice, not with the way he was treating me. Aren would want to know, but I didn’t want to worry him until I was sure there was good reason for it. I thought Nox might have some ideas, but she always looked at me like I was something horrid stuck to her boot.
I will ask, though, if it turns out it wasn’t a fluke. Maybe my magic is just as exhausted as I am.
Maybe if I worked at it…
My stomach turned at the thought. It had been the same since we’d crossed the border. I was fine as long as I let my magic lie. It was when it reared its head and when I thought about using it that fear flashed through me like frozen lightning, along with memories.
But I wouldn’t let fear rule me. I’d come too far, faced too much. I had controlled my magic once, and saved us all. I would master it. Prove myself.
I closed my eyes and tried to let my magic fill me as my teacher Griselda Beaumage had taught me back at the school on Belleisle. No pressure. No thought. The familiar warmth came, and I tried to accept it instead of analyzing it. It felt good. Natural. Not as strong as the overwhelming power that filled me when we escaped the city. Or after.
Dorset Langley’s face appeared in my mind, setting my heart pounding and my skin crawling. A handsome face, drawn into a snarl, slowly pulling taut as the water left it, forming a puddle at his feet.
Me. I did that.
My magic quieted without me having to tell it to settle and retreated until I barely felt it. A month before I’d have considered that kind of control a miracle, but it felt wrong. Like my power was running from me—or worse, I from it.
I let out a long, slow breath. The bastard deserved it. You know that, right?
No one deserves that, I answered myself. That’s not how I want to use my power.
A shadow appeared against the side of the tent, becoming smaller and disappearing as someone moved out of the lamplight of the path and approached the flaps at the entrance. “Penelo—I mean, Rowan?”
Patience stood outside, holding aside the thin blanket I’d rigged up to cover the gap in the tent flaps. She hesitated, reluctant to step from the lamplight into the dim interior.
I motioned for her to come in. She hung back at the entrance, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
She looked around, squinting, and took in the hard bed. “You could stuff a mattress tomorrow,” she said. “We might have empty sacks around. Lots of last year’s grass still out there. It’d be more comfortable.”
“That’s an excellent idea. Maybe you could help?”
She came in and hopped up to sit on the crates, apparently comfortable now that she’d invested herself. “Probably. I’m a really good woodsman. Actually, I’m good at a lot of things.”
I smiled at her easy confidence. She looked brighter than she had earlier. Perhaps seeing us then had brought on bad memories that dragged her down. “I bet you are. I remember what a wonderful performer you were, too.”
I immediately wished I could take those words back. The girl hardly needed me to remind her of better times, even if those good times had seemed difficult back then. When we met them, her family had recently been
Magic that hadn’t replenished. At least, not right away, as it should have from the rich magic of Tyrea. The loss had left a gaping hole in me.
The magic had returned within hours, leaving me feeling as normal as I ever did anymore. I decided I’d try again instead of going to sleep, to see what would happen. There was a good chance, I reasoned, that this was related to my new-found aversion. My fear.
I couldn’t ask Ulric for advice, not with the way he was treating me. Aren would want to know, but I didn’t want to worry him until I was sure there was good reason for it. I thought Nox might have some ideas, but she always looked at me like I was something horrid stuck to her boot.
I will ask, though, if it turns out it wasn’t a fluke. Maybe my magic is just as exhausted as I am.
Maybe if I worked at it…
My stomach turned at the thought. It had been the same since we’d crossed the border. I was fine as long as I let my magic lie. It was when it reared its head and when I thought about using it that fear flashed through me like frozen lightning, along with memories.
But I wouldn’t let fear rule me. I’d come too far, faced too much. I had controlled my magic once, and saved us all. I would master it. Prove myself.
I closed my eyes and tried to let my magic fill me as my teacher Griselda Beaumage had taught me back at the school on Belleisle. No pressure. No thought. The familiar warmth came, and I tried to accept it instead of analyzing it. It felt good. Natural. Not as strong as the overwhelming power that filled me when we escaped the city. Or after.
Dorset Langley’s face appeared in my mind, setting my heart pounding and my skin crawling. A handsome face, drawn into a snarl, slowly pulling taut as the water left it, forming a puddle at his feet.
Me. I did that.
My magic quieted without me having to tell it to settle and retreated until I barely felt it. A month before I’d have considered that kind of control a miracle, but it felt wrong. Like my power was running from me—or worse, I from it.
I let out a long, slow breath. The bastard deserved it. You know that, right?
No one deserves that, I answered myself. That’s not how I want to use my power.
A shadow appeared against the side of the tent, becoming smaller and disappearing as someone moved out of the lamplight of the path and approached the flaps at the entrance. “Penelo—I mean, Rowan?”
Patience stood outside, holding aside the thin blanket I’d rigged up to cover the gap in the tent flaps. She hesitated, reluctant to step from the lamplight into the dim interior.
I motioned for her to come in. She hung back at the entrance, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
She looked around, squinting, and took in the hard bed. “You could stuff a mattress tomorrow,” she said. “We might have empty sacks around. Lots of last year’s grass still out there. It’d be more comfortable.”
“That’s an excellent idea. Maybe you could help?”
She came in and hopped up to sit on the crates, apparently comfortable now that she’d invested herself. “Probably. I’m a really good woodsman. Actually, I’m good at a lot of things.”
I smiled at her easy confidence. She looked brighter than she had earlier. Perhaps seeing us then had brought on bad memories that dragged her down. “I bet you are. I remember what a wonderful performer you were, too.”
I immediately wished I could take those words back. The girl hardly needed me to remind her of better times, even if those good times had seemed difficult back then. When we met them, her family had recently been
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