“It depends,” Seniia says. “Reans from different regions have different smells. People from the Riverii islands, like me, carry the scent of salt and the ocean, while those from Terra smell of the earth. Vilder, from the Western Plains, has the scent of the wind.”
“It’s the best one by far,” he says as he leans back and stretches his long legs under the table.
Seniia purses her lips at him. “I’ll admit it’s not too bad.” She turns her attention back to me. “The C’elen are different, however,” she continues. “They smell of elen. It is like a wide aura surrounding them. The more powerful they are, the more potent it is, and if you are observant, you notice that most will walk outside of someone’s magic aura. Except for the humans, of course. Because they cannot sense it.” She laughs again.
“I can’t wait,” Vilder grumbles. “I’d love some more space.” He gives Seniia a pointed look, and she punches him in the arm.
“What do you mean, you can’t wait?” I say to him.
“To be a fully trained C’elen.”
“Yes, we both came into our power this year,” Seniia exclaims with a bright smile.
I slink down in my seat. Magic. They’re magic wielders. No better than Llyr.
“But thebest news is,” Seniia says, raising a finger into the air, “that we can all travel to Caelen and the Arc together!”
Vilder lets out a low growl, and Seniia sticks her tongue out at him.
“Come now. Let’s go outside and enjoy the festival. I want to dance!”
Around us, people are already pushing back from tables, heading toward the door, and the sounds of the festival drift in from outside—music, drums and laughter—each time the door swings open.
Vilder stands with a shrug.
What are my options? Dismiss them and make it alone? If I value my life, it’s clear I have to make it to this Arc, and isn’t it better to have some sort of company, magic wielders or not? I already experienced firsthand how vulnerable I am alone. Besides, the two of them feel...safe. It’s a peculiar feeling, as hard to ignore as the pull toward the Arc now that I’m aware of it.
Seniia gives my modest clothes a once-over. “You need a change and a bath,” she declares. “Even my five-hundred-year-old grandma doesn’t dress as modest as you.”
Cheeks flushed, I glance at Vilder. He presses his lips together, and the heat rises to another level. He wisely remains silent, however, thank the—I chew on my lip—notthe Father. If what they’re saying is true, I clearly do not want to call upon a rough god who caused some sort of darkening of the world. And what was that about a five-hundred-year-old grandma? Realizing my view of the world is severely outdated, I leave the question with a heavy sigh.
Seniia gives me one of her bright smiles. “Good thing I can provide you with both,” she says, pushing up from the table and coming to stand next to me. She pulls me up from my chair. “See! We’re the exact same size,” she exclaims happily, then grabs my hand and drags me along, leaving no room for rejection. I guess I’m going with her.
A glance over my shoulder tells me Vilder is following close behind as we weave through the crowded tables toward the door. I suppose he doesn’t find our company too bad after all.
chapter eleven
THE DECORATIVE SCREEN SEPARATING THE bathing area from the rest of the room does little to block my view of Seniia’s staff leaning against the far wall. Coiled around it, her snake hasn’t budged from its position once. I eye the white-feathered serpent from the safety of the tub. Seniia swears it’s harmless, but her words do little to soothe my unease. I stare at its needle-sharp fangs. Who in their right mind keeps a serpent as a pet, anyway?
Holding my breath, I slip beneath the surface, relaxing in the warm water and the flowery scent Seniia has infused it with.Naked, vulnerable, and in a stranger’s room. What are you doing here, Laïna? Have your past experiences taught you nothing?
And she’s not just any stranger. She’s a Rean. A Rean who wields magic. Yet there’s something captivating about Seniia, and it draws me to her like a stray cat to a warm hearth. Besides, even I must admit that magic comes in handy when you’re in need of an instant hot bath.
I break the surface, gasping down a breath.
“Everything all right in there?” Seniia’s voice drifts from somewhere beyond the screen, holding a note of concern.
“I’m fine,” I lie, as she appears around the screen, and although she doesn’t look too convinced, she places a fluffy towel on a nearby stool and leaves it at that.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” she mumbles to herself, turning to give me privacy.
Grateful for her discretion, I step out of the tub, careful not to slip on the wet tiles as I reach for the towel. Before I’ve had time to wipe off the water, a soft, warm breeze sweeps across my skin, as Seniia, still with her back toward me, dries me off with a flick of her wrist. Whatever she did, it leaves my skin tingling.
Flinging the towel around myself, I spin to face her. “What in—”
“Magic.” She wiggles her fingers playfully. Seeing my startled expression, she bursts out laughing.
A high-pitched sound slips past my lips. I meant it to be a laugh, but I sounded more like a squealing piglet. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m... I’m just not used to it. Not sure if I ever will be.” I look at her, her face so honest, so open, and so wildly different from anyone I’ve known. “I mean...” My shoulders slump. I’m not sure how to explain how I feel without offending her. Part of me knows the minister is in the wrong, but another part of me instinctively reacts to the merest mention of magic. How could I not? For as long as I can remember, magic has been equal to death.
