Panic settled in my gut. I couldn’t be certain if the magic I’d accidentally released was the reason they were here—so far, they hadn’t as much as looked in my direction—but I felt it in my bones. Something in the air changed, and the magic buzzing under my skin seemed to shrink away from their encroaching power.
A merchant pointed my way, mouthing “mage” like it was a dirty word when applied to me.
The butcher’s wife was the first to speak. “That one,” she said, loud enough to carry, while she pointed at me. Her voice was high, thin, like it might snap in the wind. “That one is always causing trouble.”
The younger enforcer turned toward my stall.
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe more than I had to.
“You,” he said. Not my name, justyou, because people down here didn’t deserve names.
“Ser, I’m registered with the Assembly to sell my craft,” I replied calmly, gesturing to the remaining vials and dried herbs as if they might shield me.
The older one, the one brimming with magic, stepped forward. I caught a flash of the insignia—a silver flame carved into a small disc hanging at his neck. Licensed evocation mage. Extremely dangerous.
“We detected a powerful surge of magic in this area,” he stated. “Our guards reported that you were the source.”
I shrugged, careful to keep my hands visible. “I…apologize. I reacted poorly to thesurprisingadministration of justice.”
That wasn’t a lie.
The older man smirked. Then his gaze narrowed in the telltale way that told me he was magically analyzing me. “Step out from behind the table.”
My pulse thudded in my ears. But I steeled my face. My movements were deliberate, unhurried, and designed to project an air of openness and obedience even as I railed against the Assembly and all that they stood for inside my head.
The younger one stepped closer, eyes flicking to the trembling herbs on the table behind me. I prayed it was the wind and not my emotionsbubbling over to manifest as telekinesis. While it hadn’t occurred in years, it wasn’t impossible. Every mage possessed a primary gift, like my empathy, along with at least one more secondary ability like my telekinesis—the most common one. The most powerful of us had multiple abilities.
“Jumpy twittering bird,” the butcher’s wife muttered. “She’s not normal, that’s for sure.”
The younger enforcer showed less composure than the mage, rolling his eyes at her accusation.
I didn’t deny it. I didn’t speak at all. Anything I said could twist too easily into proof that I was unable to control the flare of my magic. They wanted to make an example of someone, to bring a facade of balance to the market, to show that they would punish one of their own as equally as an outsider.
“This once, we will forgive your forbidden use of magic on a crowd. If you had cast a different sentiment, Mage Isca, we would’ve been forced to act.”
My breath caught in my throat. They knew exactly who I was. I nodded, eyes lowering to the stained cobblestones under my feet. I could send out another wave of calm, make them change their minds about me, but the evocation magus would feel my magic and burn me to a pillar of ashes where I stood.
When I looked back up, the two enforcers exchanged a glance. I locked my knees and clenched my fists, bracing for the impact of magic or sword.
Like the blow I knew was coming, the evocation mage’s words hit me: “We’ll be watching.”
The moment they turned their backs, the tightness in my chest broke. I sucked in a breath that tasted too much like bile and not enough like relief. I’d have to keep my magic tightly controlled for a few weeks until the Assembly grew bored with me.
To avoid attracting attention to my house, I remained at my stall despite not having any customers. The two enforcers moved on, but their presence didn’t. Different groups of fortress guards drifted past my stall as the daywore on. They usually never came that far into the market, not unless someone sent them.
Things changed again later that afternoon. I felt the weight of someone watching me. It wasn’t the usual stares from those who disapproved of a woman peddling magic-infused tinctures, but something far more intense. Colder. Like sharpened steel held just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to strike. Another enforcer, maybe?
The moment the market crowds thinned, I shoved what could be salvaged of my unsold goods into my pack, leaving the empty crate behind. I needed to make a purchase and get to my mother before any gossip reached her ears.
She spent most of her day at home taking care of my father, but she dropped off completed mending work to her clients each afternoon. I could’ve used a moment to steady myself, but she saw me before I saw her.
“Isca!” Mama’s voice cut through the alley, sharp as a blade. Her gaze locked onto the flecks of blood staining my dress, and her lips pressed into a thin line. “That horrible butcher’s wife again?”
I flinched. Of course she’d noticed.
“No, Mama… It’s… It’s a long story.” We weaved our way through the well-heeled part of town, dropping off one piece of clothing after another.
“Then what’s in the bag?” she pressed.
