Shifting away from him, I fell silent. Water dripped from my hair onto the cavern floor, a sound swallowed by the raging storm. Hardly anyone in the Merchant Isles studied the Empty, let alone theorized it could be channeled by mages.
Who had he known before?
Everything in his past was still a mystery.
Wind howled into the cavern, digging into my soaking back like a volley of arrows. Shaking, I wrapped my arms around myself.
Scowling, Seth leaned forward and grabbed my waist. “Stop trying to freeze to death.” He murmured, dragging me back under his cloak.
He wrapped his arms around me, tucking me safely against his chest. Trapping my legs between his, he left me without an inch of space to myself, but with his heat radiating over me like a furnace, I decided I didn’t mind.
“I don’t know why I was angry,” his voice was soft, “I’m glad you aren’t what they think. Let the people go back to hoping their Maiden will save them. At least they aren’t hurting you.”
“The nobleman,” I said, “He thought they’d hate me, not celebrate me.”
“He’s right. The clergy would be divided, I think.” Seth leaned his head against the wall, thinking. “A schism would form. Some would brand you a heretic. Others would proclaim you chosen of the Maiden, not a defiance of her existence. Half the world would kill you, half would martyr you. Dead, either way.”
Closing my eyes, I listened to the rumbling thunder. “Do you think it was all a mistake? Or did I fail?”
Seth pondered my question quietly. “Magic requires a state of mind. Intent.” Lifting his right arm, he turned over his palm. “Chthonics cannot merely spill blood and cast what they like.”
“How does it work?”
Flexing his hand, Seth wrapped it back around me. “I’m sure Seraphim’s is different. Everyone’s is. For me, I remember the way I felt when magic first came to me.” He paused. “The risk of death didn’t matter. Submitting to the void was better than lying down and doing nothing.”
Whisper crawled forward, laying his big head on my foot, ears soaked and pressed to his head. Feeling a little better, I tried to relax. “Do you know how Percy’s magic works? He tried to explain it, but. . .”
Seth chuckled. The rumble in his chest was comforting. “He’s horrible at explaininganything. Best I can tell, he creates soundand controls people with it. Mournful dirges, terrifying noises, haunting chants. . . save we feel the effects tenfold.”
“I’m still not sure I understand.”
“Ask a different muse. One who thinks about more than whichever woman happened to pass him last.”
Extracting my arm from his grip, I held it out. “How would mine work, then?”
“I don’t know,” Seth admitted. “To stop the Empty. . . would you need to embody life? Or, maybe hope?”
Hope. Eleos had spoken to me of hope in the fields around Serifos. His eyes had shone with faith rarely glimpsed in others. I couldn’t let him down.
Resolve washed over me as I stared at my palm. “When the storm clears, I’m going to try again.”
“Aethra-”
“What does the danger matter? They’re all gone. Like you said, the Maiden’s Bloodstone was probably as false as I am.”
He sighed. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did.”
He tensed beneath me and slowly relaxed. “Fine. But if I think you’re in danger, I’m dragging you away.”
“I’ll never learn if you stop me from trying.”
“I don’t care.” He said curtly. “And you don’t stand a chance against me in a fight, so it will be all too easy to manhandle you. There’s no point in arguing.”
I opened my mouthtoargue, but snapped it closed.
Dammit. He was right. If only I’d been a traditional thief, adept at scaling walls and fleeing from guards, maybe I’d be a half-decent fighter.
