“Right, I forgot how you don’t like anythingfun,” Beau quipped.
“No, not fun. Just people.”
Ragnar snorted at our exchange. “Then whatareyou excited for, Rose?”
The ironic part was that Iwasmost excited to see the different people. Not that I necessarily needed to interact with all of them…but how many opportunities would I have in my lifetime to be in the same place as citizens from all six provinces? To observe their magic and learn how it works, maybe even take a few tricks back home to Feywood.
“The magic,” I said truthfully. “Alchemy’s in my blood, but I’ve always wanted to see what else is out there.”
“Well now, am I going to end up fending off some Shifter or Lightbender suitor who persuades you to move across the empire?” my uncle teased.
Beau barked out a laugh. “As if. I don’t think anything could drag Rosie away from the Arcane.”
I turned back to the window with a shallow smile as their lighthearted laughs and conversation about Veridia City became background noise to my thoughts.
He was right. I loved the Arcane, loved the connection to myparents and the sense of purpose in my bones. So why did his comment nag at me?
Perhaps that was all I was good for—experiments and concoctions, minding my own business and living a quiet life in my personal solace. Protecting what was mine at all costs. Ignoring the ignorant words of the town. Continuing the legacy my parents had left me.
There was nothing wrong with that.
That’s what I told myself as I peered through the window, watching the only home I’d ever known become a speck in the distance as rays of sunlight tried to dispel the growing shadows.
5
Rose
The rest of the journey through Feywood passed uneventfully. By the next morning, we’d paid to keep our carriage and horses at the port and boarded a ship to sail the short distance across the Eldertide Ocean.
It took all day to reach the port at Veridia City. Aunt Morgana and I leaned against the railing on the quarterdeck as the sun set behind us, highlighting the oncoming island in rays of orange, gold, and deep pink. The wind blew our hair back, the matching strands of black dancing and weaving in the air—the only trait I shared with her, seeing as my mother had the same dark locks. But while Morgana was pale and fair, I’d inherited my olive-toned skin from my father, along with a strong jawline and high cheekbones.
My aunt tapped her fingers on the wood, her eyes distant as she took in the land looming before us.
“How are you doing with all of this?” I asked.
She seemed surprised I had spoken. Clearing her throat, she dropped her hands with haste. “Oh, I’m fine. I trust Ragnar, and I trust the Fates. He’s more than capable of keeping himself safe with their help.”
The Fates. The mystical, omniscientFateswho had our futures wound around their fingers, playing them like strings on an instrument.I’d never been much for the legends of the three beings who weaved the destiny of this world, choosing to place my trust in myownhands. The Fates were mostly myths at this point anyway, their existence a mere household expression instead of worshiped and revered as they once were.
But my aunt wished to keep them sacred. For her, clinging to the higher power of the Fates provided a refuge when her world ran out of control. I would never deny her the comfort they brought, even if I was more skeptical.
Who knew? Maybe theywerelistening.
“You know, you’re allowed to tell me the truth every once in a while,” I said, raising my eyebrow in jest. “I’m not a child anymore. You can tell me if you’re worried.”
Chuckling, she patted my hand. “I do sometimes forget how much you’ve grown. You’re the age I was when we adopted you.” She faced me fully, her hand coming up to cup my cheek. “You look so much like her,” she whispered.
I didn’t have to ask who she was referring to.
The emotion in her words overwhelmed me, and I looked away, back to the glistening navy blue waters lapping against the side of the boat. “What do you think she would’ve thought of this?” I waved my hand through the air. “Visiting the capital?”
“My, your mother would have eaten this up. I can’t tell you the number of times she tried to cross through to Celestria or Iluze when we were kids. Granted, that was back when it wasn’t against the law. She loved to make a ship out of blankets and pillows and pretend we were sailing off on adventures.” Morgana laughed and shook her head. “And, oh, that girl couldtalk.”
A smile tugged at my lips. I’d asked about my parents hundreds of times over the years, eager for any morsel of truth, any taste of their lives. I never got tired of hearing about them.
“She lit up any room when she walked in,” my aunt continued. “Yes, I think she would’ve enjoyed this trip very much. If she were here, she’d make fast friends with every person we came across. Now, your father, on the other hand…”
My shoulders tightened, then slowly loosened. I remembered bits and pieces of my father—his quiet laugh, his dark blue-gray eyes peering at me over thin spectacles as he read by the fire, his strong hands lifting me in the air. But every time I imagined him, something snagged at the recesses of my mind, something that sent ice snaking down my spine. It was like a veil hanging in front of a portrait, and if I could reach out and pull it away, I’d see?—
