The door closes behind him, and I hear the quiet click of the lock.
Chapter Sixteen
Time,at last, to adjust.
I survey the room: no cameras, at least none I can spot. I miss my magic, the ability to analyse every detail, but perhaps the loss is a blessing. I need to master this body first.
I take my time examining the anti-magic cuff. Spells are layered into it, written in runes etched deeply into the silver.
After a few minutes of staring, I realise it does not block my magicalrecovery—only my access. While the cuff remains on, I will have no magic to wield, yet I will avoid any ill effects. With luck, when it is removed, I will be at decent strength. If I can manage a few basic tricks, I should persuade the paper mage faction that I am one of them.
They should not expect fireworks, just proof, and proof I can provide.
The courtyard doors are locked, so I cross to the centre of the room and sink to the floor, legs folded. Closing my eyes, I turn inward, returning to the meditation that has kept me sane for centuries. I start at the crown of my head, ease my hair from the collar of Fred’s jumper, and draw a long breath—the relief is immediate.
Shoulders rise and fall, lungs expand, ribs shift, the diaphragm contracts. When my hips and thighs ache, I lie down and stretch out on the cool stone, morning light warming my face through the glass.
Now I understand why Beryl enjoys basking. It is unexpectedly pleasant.
The main door unlocks and clicks open behind me. Heels tap softly into the kitchen, followed by lighter, faster footsteps. Children. I open my eyes. Three small faces peer down at me.
“Is she dead?” asks the smallest girl, hands on her hips, nose wrinkled.
“No, she was just sleeping,” says an older girl. All three are in pyjamas.
A pretty red-haired woman stops beside me, smiling kindly.
“Hi,” she says. “I’m Dayna, Lander’s sister. These are my daughters”—she points to each girl—“Philis, Elizabeth, and Cathy.”
“Hi!” the girls chorus, waving.
I flutter a hand in response. “Hi.” I could attempt a smile. I remember the healer’s reaction and keep my mouth still.
The youngest, Cathy, tilts her head. “What’s wrong with your face?”
“Yeah, it’s like you’re a doll,” Elizabeth blurts.
“Elizabeth,” Dayna says sharply. “Cathy, that’s rude. I’m so sorry, Harper.”
Philis frowns at her sisters. “Maybe that’s just her face. Some people don’t show much.”
Cathy nods solemnly. “So you’re special?”
“She must be a bad special,” Elizabeth whispers, pointing at the anti-magic cuff on my wrist. “Only bad people wear those.”
“That’s not quite true,” Dayna says, horrified. Dropping her voice to a harsh whisper, she shepherds the three girls to the sofa. “Sit here and behave. When we get home, we will have another talk about being mean.” Louder, she adds, “I hope you don’t mind us popping in; the girls were excited to meet you.”
“I don’t mind,” I reply, standing—my legs wobbling in protest.
“I’ve brought some shopping.”
“Thank you.”
I notice grocery bags on the kitchen counter and follow her, taking in the sleek, unfamiliar appliances.
With magic, boiling a kettle or heating food was instantaneous. Now, for a while, I will have to learn everything from scratch. Buttons instead of spells. Timers instead of will.
The girls whisper and giggle on the sofa, elbowing one another.
