“I mean, he is beautiful in my eyes. Completely and utterly beautiful. And yet…he does look a bit like a wrinkly old man. Don’t you, Noah?”
Surprise rippled through Cora. “You named him?”
“It’s a name Larylis and I both liked for a boy. I suppose I’ll find out if my husband still approves of it once he gets here. Speaking of…” She turned toward Cora with a grimace. “How ugly am I?”
Cora leveled a glare at her. “You’re never ugly.”
“But my hair must look terrible. What about my eyes? Are they red and swollen from crying? Do I look half dead or more like three-quarters? I’m open to the truth.”
Cora rolled her eyes. Her friend’s hair was admittedly a tangled mess, but this was hardly the time for vanity.
Mareleau sighed. “No, of course you won’t tell me. I’d use my magic trick, but Larylis can probably see right through it.”
“Magic trick?”
“Oh, it’s not real magic. It’s this thing I do where I pretend I can change my outer appearance and influence how another perceives me. I used to do it all the time when I was trying to get out of unwanted engagements. It’s just a matter of altering my posture and expression, and it doesn’t work on everyone.”
“What do you mean? Show me?” Cora was both curious and amused.
“I’ll try. But remember, it might not work.” Mareleau adjusted her son in her arms and sat a little straighter. Then she held still for a few seconds, staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused. Slowly, a soft smile melted over her lips and she angled her face toward Cora. Her countenance was nearly glowing, her sapphire eyes as bright as the sea, the apples of her cheeks perfectly rosy. She didn’t look at all like someone who hadn’t slept?—
Mareleau shook her head, averting her gaze. “Ah, I’m too tired. I can’t do it.”
Cora blinked at her, at her profile, at cheeks that had held such a rosy hue for all of a second. At eyes that had momentarily lost their puffiness and the dark circles that hung beneath them.
Had Cora merely hallucinated? Was she so fatigued that her mind had played along with Mareleau’s game?
That was when she felt the tingle in her palms, sparking every inked line of herinsigmora. Was Cora sensing…magic? A heavy warmth settled in her stomach, followed by a lifting sensation in her chest—a medley of clairsentient feeling that saidtruth.
Mareleau…had magic.
Again that feeling in her stomach, her chest.
Truth.
Mareleau could cast a glamour.
Truth.
Mareleau was a witch.
Truth.
12
Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised Cora that Mareleau could use magic. She’d entertained the idea that Helena might be clairaudient. Why did it send such a chill down her spine to consider Mareleau might be a witch too?
Another heavy feeling settled in her stomach, but this one was sharper than the one that saidtruth. It saidpay attention.
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to pay attention to, but she realized she was doing the opposite when Mareleau asked, “Were you listening?”
“No, I’m sorry.” Cora shook the thoughts from her head and gave her friend an apologetic smile.
“I said, I’d like to name you Noah’s godmother.”
Something soft melted in Cora’s heart. “You want me to be his godmother?”
“I do.” Mareleau’s expression turned hesitant. “Is that all right? Do you want that? Or is that incredibly rude of me to even ask, considering your?—”
