Ozik kept his eyes on the wolf. Their link didn’t sear the way it used to, though it tugged, and she knew her magic was being capitalized on. Perhaps he was using less power, or he didn’t want it to hurt, or she had just gained enough control to block out his side of the bond.
This time, when the Miro’dag took shape, Vaasa didn’t twitch.
He rolled his shoulders and said, “Corporeal magic has limitations that sentimental magic does not, while sentimental magic has consequences that corporeal magic does not. Take the Imros coven, for instance, who can manipulate metal. They are not haunted by their magic, nor does it threaten to kill them the way Veragi magic once threatened you. But an Imros witch cannot use their power without metal. They must be in the presence of the physical thing that fuels them.”
Vaasa summoned more magic, relief in her bones at the ability to use it. She hated that one of the few times of day shegenuinely looked forward to in this fortress had to be spent with Ozik. When she let it run free, the magic sharpened on the wolf, and it grew larger. When she focused, she felt it shift within her. Those glowing white eyes and sharp teeth, just beneath the surface of her skin, their beings seemingly one. “And Zetyr magic is limitless? Anything you will it to do, it will do?” she asked.
“Only with a clever bargain,” Ozik confirmed.
“But death is a part of your deity’s description. Why?”
“Because prey is far easier to catch when it asks you for a favor.”
He only ever spoke in maddening riddles. Vaasa stared at Ozik, her mind absorbing his words with the same diligence she had once listened to him lecture. All those pretty gems of information were worth nothing if one wasn’t willing to mine them. “You never say your deity’s name. Why?”
Ozik pursed his lips, and she wondered for a moment if she’d caught him off guard. “Remember what I told you: The deities are monsters, and the more people who believe in them, the more power they have.”
It reminded her of her earlier conversation with Amalie—the hope that rose in them at the thought of Veragi. Was that misguided? “So what? You don’t believe in your own deity?”
Ozik shrugged, leaning back against the olive tree. The Miro’dag swayed back and forth. “All questions have answers, but not all of those answers are known.”
“Or perhaps not shared, even if they’re known.”
He smirked at her implication that he was hiding something from her. “Do you feel more powerful now? More in control?”
She gritted her teeth and stared at one of the black stone statues, the morning light catching on the golden threads of granite within it. The answer to this question felt traitorous to herself.Yes.Instead of responding honestly, she said, “Howwould I know? I can never hold on to it for an extended period of time.”
“Hmm,” Ozik muttered. “Keep it, then.”
Vaasa’s brows slammed together. “What?”
He lifted from the tree, cleaning his coat of any dirt with the palms of his hands. “I will be gone for a few days, so you needn’t come here until I return. If you succeed in keeping our little secret, we can discuss you having broader access to your power.”
Hope rose in her, but fear followed. “Gone?” she sputtered. “Where could you possibly be going?”
“Mind your business,” Ozik said, echoing her words from earlier. He walked past her, making for the door. Across their bond, the Miro’dag diminished, and she felt the leeching of power as it dimmed.
“So that’s it for today?” she asked.
He looked over his shoulder and grinned. “No, Vaasalisa. Your work has just started. Let’s see if you can keep this little game with Karev going without revealing the truth: Two witches rule Asterya.”
Vaasa gawked at him.
“Don’t be out too late,” Ozik warned.
And then he crossed into the other room of the greenhouse, leaving her standing there in shock. She swore it was a silent blessing, almost like Ozik knew precisely what she intended to do.
But that couldn’t be right. He wouldn’t allow her to visit Amalie in the prison.
Would he?
By the early afternoon, Roman resumed his post. Vaasa had not spoken at length with him—no more than the necessary interactions to arrange their visit that evening. Ozik’s warningrang in her mind, as if he was clearing her way to the island, aware she intended to go. But unless Roman had told Ozik, she didn’t see how.
Unless he had some way of accessing her mind across their bond, a thought that made her shudder.
When someone knocked on her door, she assumed it was Roman with further questions. Yet when she opened the door, she came face to face with… Sachia.
And Melisina.
