And a very full belly.
Yet as full as she was, she was completely unsatisfied. How could she be content when the future was so unclear? Would Ailan keep the tear open long enough to allow Mareleau and Larylis to live out their lives in the human world with their son? And if not, would Mareleau learn to consider this place her home? Would the Elvyn accept Larylis? What would happen to Vera? Who would take care of her kingdom?
She hated those questions, and she likely wouldn’t get answers any time soon. They had a war to win, an enemy to kill.
Meanwhile, all she could do was sit in her pretty room and gorge herself on Elvyn sweets.
That and protect her son, of course.
She stared down at Noah with a grin. He lay beside her at the center of a cushioned velvet mat on the floor, staring at the glittering, swaying mobile—a gift from one of his new Elvyn admirers, of course. He was starting to look less like a wrinkled old man and more like a chubby baby. How old was he now? Just over two weeks? It had been so hard to keep track of time, especially when trying to track the passage of days in the human world too. Were she at home without war on the horizon, she’d have celebrated each week since his birth, marked each milestone with gifts and cake.
Gifts and cake were all around them now, but it wasn’t for quite the same reason.
Bitterness sank her chest, edged with impatience. She hated feeling useless. Hated waiting. Hated being surrounded by luxury yet impoverished at heart.
Maybe…
If she could only…
She scooted closer to Noah and extended her hands, palms toward him. Closing her eyes, she tried to sense a tingling buzz of magic, tried to feel a ripple of some hidden strength. Instead, she felt nothing. Yet…wasn’t she going about this wrong in the first place? She was—supposedly—claircognizant, not clairsentient. Her sensory affinity was keen knowing, but here she was trying tofeellike Cora could.
How could she truly protect her son and make her magic count if she didn’t know how to make proper use of her abilities? Clenching her jaw, she opened her eyes. Noah’s gaze was on her hands now as he gummed his tiny fist.
Her heart melted at the sight, taking the edge off her annoyance. “I just wish I could protect you.”
If she could at least cast a protective ward around him, she’d feel useful. Salinda had helped her understand her magic when they’d spoken in her tent, but she hadn’t taught her how to use that understanding for what Mareleau wanted to do most. It was hard to take her magic seriously when she hadn’t a clue how to accomplish her goals.
She adopted a playful tone and wiggled her fingers. “You, little Noah, are hereby protected. No? Nothing? Huh.”
A soft knock came from the other side of her bedroom door. Ailan swept in.
Mareleau angled her head to face her. “Has Cora returned?”
“Not yet,” Ailan said.
It had only been a matter of hours since Cora left El’Ara, but in the human world, more than a full day had passed. Would it take several days to sort out her side of the terms for the alliance? Weeks? Mareleau would lose her mind if that ended up being the case. The sooner Cora returned, the sooner she might have a chance of getting another letter to or from Larylis.
Ailan approached her and Noah. “What are you doing there?”
Mareleau frowned, unsure of what she was inquiring about until she glanced at her hands. They were still extended over Noah. She snatched them back. “Oh, that. I was…”
Why was she embarrassed to admit it? She had no reason to feel ashamed.
She lifted her chin and feigned confidence. “I was practicing casting a protective ward around Noah.”
Ailan settled on the floor beside them. “Did it work?”
“Not yet.” She didn’t mean to sound so defensive. “That’s why I’m practicing.”
“Is that what kind of magic you hope to have? Wardweaving?”
“Is that an option?” Mareleau hadn’t considered whether she might have access to Elvyn magic.
“Perhaps. I know Salinda helped you understand your witch magic, but exploring your Elvyn side may help too. Your magic is a combination of both. And while a weaver’smoradoesn’t always manifest in the ways we want, it’s possible you’re drawn to wardweaving because it’s your specialty. I’m a truthweaver through and through, without a stitch of talent for wardweaving. My wards are weak when I attempt them. Still, I can teach you the gesture for casting them.”
Excitement bubbled in her chest. Was she about to learn how to do something useful with magic at last?
“Even if wardweaving isn’t your talent,” Ailan said, “a gesture may help guide your witch magic. Sometimes external action can aid its flow, for it gives you something outside yourself to trust in.”
