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though they are different.”
    “But you’ve spent some time trying to figure out how to interpret them separately.”
    “Yes, but this is not common knowledge.”
    “I imagine I am the only one who knows.”
    “And Jamin, naturally.” Jamin was Peony’s father, and her mother’s chief counselor. He was a sensitive, though not a prophecy reader, who often oversaw the Rite of Passage ceremony for the youth of the castle.
    Her mother stood up, and Theo realized the conversation had ended without any real answers.
    “Wait!”
    “I’m tired. So tired, darling. I just wanted to see that you were okay.” Her mother continued toward the door.
    “Mom, please.” That, interestingly, stopped Rhea, and she turned back with her hand resting lightly on the door handle. “Why is it that you cannot track me now, when I could never hide from you before?”
    “You’ve grown more powerful. Your shielding is strong. I can feel you within the castle, unquestionably. Your magic is everywhere. We’ll have to talk about that when you are feeling better.” Her mother eyed the carpet, which had found Theo the moment she’d reentered the castle. “But I cannot pinpoint you now.”
    “But Hugh can?”
    “You’ll have to discuss that with him.” Another not-so-subtle way of reminding her that everyone’s magic was his or her own business. Her mother opened the door and stepped through. The guards shifted to accommodate her, but did not look at Rhea or into the room. They were well-trained, oddly enough, by her Uncle Dougal, though they then swore an oath to her mother.
    “Mom? The tracking device the … would-be assassins carried?”
    “I know,” her mother whispered from the hall without looking at her.
    “Such a thing could only work if —”
    “Powered by something of yours, a piece of clothing, hair —”
    “Blood.” Her mother’s head shot up to meet Theo’s eye. Rhea shook her head, and then looked pointedly at the guards. Blood magic was illegal in Cascadia, and had been for the entirety of Rhea’s reign as Apex. Theo had heard of some wielders adhering to the old ways and still using their own blood to fortify their weapons. In such cases, the captain of the guard usually chose to look the other way. But healers and spellcasters were severely punished for mixing blood into their spells, no matter the intention. “You think someone in the castle? Close enough to get a sample?”
    “They wouldn’t have needed to be that close; you were rather generous when you first arrived.” Her mother looked pointedly, and distrustfully, at the magic carpet.
    “Iggy wouldn’t betray me.”
    “You’ve named the carpet?” Even tired, her mother could raise a rather intimidating brow.
    Theo deflected her mother’s disapproval by answering, “In the tunnel —”
    “It seems the tunnel was exceedingly well-cleaned,” Rhea answered. “It could also have been collected from before you returned. I could have been mistaken in my assessment of who held you, perhaps. Except …”
    “Except what?”
    “Except the device was very accurate. I sense … actually Jamin senses, that your magic might be a bit different since you woke.”
    “Different how?”
    “How am I to know, darling? It’s your magic. Your spirit is damaged, undoubtedly. And I thought it might have made a difference to the accuracy of such a … sophisticated … charm.”
    “I was unaware that the creation of such was now common place.”
    “You know such transmutation is highly unusual, Theodora,” Rhea sighed, and lifted a hand as if to rub her temple, but then thought better of it. “Your blood, if indeed it was used, transformed the rock into something that almost seems to have its own will.”
    “Then the Preacher is not someone to be taken lightly.”
    “Is that what you think of me? That I wasn’t able to keep you safe before, so now I shall surely fail you again?”
    “Hugh said —”
    “Why would I put any credence into