She went very still.
“There’s a Priestess?”
I couldn’t believe I had to utter these words.
“Yes, and she’s your great grandmother.”
She gasped. “Grandma Elira?”
“No, my mom’s mom.”
She stared at me like I’d just grown ten heads.
“Boy, our family tree is something else.”
I smiled at the simplicity of that statement that held so much truth.
The Academy hummed softly around us, content and watchful.
“The Priestess,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “isn’t like Malore.”
Celeste had gone very still across the table from me, her earlier appetite forgotten. She watched my face the way she used to when she was younger and could tell a storm was coming by the way I tucked my hair behind my ear.
“She doesn’t burn things down,” I continued. “She preserves them. Hoards them. People, magic, power. She believes she’s maintaining balance, but really she’s deciding who deserves to exist inside it.”
Celeste swallowed. “And Gideon?”
“He was useful,” I said quietly. “Powerful. Isolated. Easy to manipulate once she figured out what he craved. She convinced him he was choosing his role when really she was shaping every move he made.”
Celeste’s jaw tightened. “That’s sick.”
“Yes,” I said. “And effective.”
She shook her head. “What does she want now?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “That’s what scares me most. She never acts without purpose. She never moves unless there’s a long game involved.”
The dining hall hummed softly around us, lantern light warm against stone, sprites moving quietly now that the first wave of food had been delivered. The Academy felt calm, but I’d learned the difference between peace and quiet. This was the latter.
“And do you think…” Celeste hesitated, “that she’d come after me.”
I didn’t answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Celeste let out a slow breath. “Because my magic woke up.”
“Yes,” I said. “And not gently.”
She glanced at her hands as if expecting them to glow. “I didn’t even mean to do it.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s part of why it’s dangerous. Untrained magic doesn’t announce itself politely. It ripples.”
She looked back up at me, eyes searching. “So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” I replied softly, “that the Priestess notices ripples. And if she realizes your magic is active, she may decide you’re… relevant.”
Celeste’s mouth twisted. “I didn’t ask to be.”
