Rose
My fingers trailed along the collection of glass vials on a bookshelf. Some were clear and empty, others tall and full of a dark liquid, and several more were rose or sage-tinted with crushed flower petals layering the bottom. All were marked with cream labels bearing Ga—Theodore’shurried, cramped cursive. Bay laurel sprigs, eye of rowan, vervain, wishbone powder, snake skin shavings.
“Your note said my father had made some incredible discoveries with Alchemy,” I began after we’d spent several minutes in silence while he finished what he’d been working on. “Did any of that have to do with…blood magic?”
I tried to keep the unease out of my tone, but he caught it anyway. “Tell me, Rose. What has you so convinced that blood magic is such an atrocity?”
I craned my neck to peek at him, still seated in his chair with notes spread on the desk before him. “It’s dangerous,” I said. “Unnatural. People who use it end up ruining their lives. It’s too unpredictable and powerful.”
He stopped writing and leaned back, twisting his quill between gloved fingers. “And yet, it intrigues you, does it not?”
I pressed my lips together, refusing to give voice to that part of my mind.
With a knowing look, he continued. “Unpredictable and powerful, yes. But only when not controlled properly. Many people have used it incorrectly and ruined their lives, as you say. But have lives not been ruined even when using magic in an orthodox manner?” He raised an eyebrow. “The type of magic doesn’t necessarily matter. It canallbe dangerous. It depends on the wielder, you see.”
“But Alchemy is based in the earth around us,” I argued, repeating what I’d heard others say in Feywood. “We defile that by taking blood or—or bones or skin”—I gestured to some of the glass vials beside me—“against something’s will instead of workingwithnature to give us its power.”
Theodore steepled his hands in front of him. “I don’t disagree with you. Forcefully taking anything and bending it to your whims is dangerous. But that is not the foundation of blood magic.” He stood and began pacing. “Blood magic is, in its base meaning, the use of power found within that which bearslife. How is that unnatural? How is the blood that runs through our veins unnatural? It’s innately the most natural power we possess.
“The other five provinces use magic that flows within them. They don’t require a conduit or outside force to conjure shadows or light or illusions or whatever it may be.” His hands moved animatedly as he spoke. “This fact was what sparked your father’s curiosity so many years ago. Why isourmagic type the only one expected to source power outside of ourselves? Why should we be any different, Hamilton wondered?”
I stared at him, transfixed by his passion and conviction, remembering the same thoughts that had captured my mind days ago when Callum confronted me in the great hall. His spiteful words echoed all around me, lighting a fire beneath my skin.
“You think you’re so clever with your little plants and potions. But you’re nothing without them, are you, Feywood?”
“People get carried away and lose themselves, taking theirmagic too far or stealing power that is not theirs to wield,” Theodore explained. “Thatis where the danger lies. Harming others, using force or violence, destroying nature. But”—he pulled the glove from his left hand finger by finger, then grabbed a letter opener from his desk—“when givenwillingly…it is magic unlike anything you have seen.” My eyes widened at his exposed hand, which was riddled with dozens of thin, white scars.
In his next breath, he pricked the tip of his forefinger and muttered,“Vellus.”
Instantly, he disappeared.
But it wasn’t justhim.
Every single item in the chamber vanished into nothingness. Every book, every charm, the desk, the chair, bookshelves,all of it, save for the lit sconces on the walls.
Gone.
It wasn’t a mere invisibility spell like I’d cast hundreds of times. This was…unbelievable. Unthinkable.
Lips parting, I breathed, “How did you?—”
His voice materialized behind me. “It is as natural as drawing breath. It is ourbirthright.”
In the blink of an eye, the chamber went dark, the sconces snuffed out. “You can do it, too, Rose,” he whispered in my ear.
Suddenly, my dagger appeared in my open hand, the feel of cold steel burning my palm.
Was it truly possible? To practice Alchemy with nothing but our blood? No more bags and pouches, no more relying on what herbs were in my pocket or if I would have enough time to arm myself before it was too late. No more sickly taste of dried leaves on my tongue or fear of running out of charms.
No moretricks. No moreweaker magic.
What was wrong with that? Theodore was right—as long as one didn’t go too far, as long as they didn’t mess with the balance of nature, this was no different than what Rissa did when she shifted, or Lark when she wielded her shadows.
I raised the dagger, my hand trembling so hard in the dark thatI couldn’t see where I was aiming. Invisible, wrinkled fingers clasped around my wrist, guiding me.
My breath caught as the blade inched closer to my skin, the air around us stretched tight with expectation. It was like my blood knew what was happening; my pulse pounded in every part of me, drawing the dagger nearer. Calling for it. Pleading.
The sharp tip bit into the pad of my thumb, and I gasped at the sting. Without thinking, without waiting, I whispered, “Incendar.”
