“Astute of you.”
“I'd like to lay claim to that astuteness.” She tapped her temple. “But one of the sailors told me.”
“Someone's been talking.”
“Don't kill him,” she said with pretend dismay. “I kept hounding him for information, and he reluctantly shared a few tidbits.”
Hounding him for information aboutme? How intriguing.
“I'll keep your wishes in mind.” I cleared my throat and gestured to the items on the table. “Tonight, we're going to determine your skill.”
She glanced that way. “Good luck with that.”
A collection of crystals lay scattered across the table’s surface, and I approached them. “It's common for a wizard to use tools like this to help narrow down a person's abilities.”
“How?” She came over to stand beside me, her hand stretching out but not touching.
The crystals glinted in the moonlight shooting through one of the windows. It gave us enough light to see what we were doing and enough for me to watch her face. While some might suggest she wasn't even near beautiful, all I could see was how she radiated.
I gestured toward the low wooden table where I'd laid them out in order, each one a potential path we could explore together. “These will help us test where your skills might lie.” She stood too close beside me; it was all I could do to keep my voice steady.
“What’s Erisandra’s skill?”
“Glamour crafting.”
“What does that entail?”
“It’s a form of illusion manipulation. She could, theoretically, make a hallway appear like something else entirely. A building, perhaps. She could make someone hear sounds that aren’t there. Or even hide objects by masking them with something else. Honestly, though, she doesn’t use her skill often. She once told me it wasn’t worth developing fully because she couldn’t see where it would be of value.”
“It’s probably a good thing that she hasn’t developed the skill. Imagine the havoc she could wreak if she used it all the time.”
“Exactly.”
She turned her focus to the stones. “There are only five here and you think they're going to do what my brother and others couldn't?” She had every right to be skeptical.
“These belong to a wizard, and they're only a few of the crystals they might use to test someone. I didn’t want to overwhelm you all at once.”
“Kind.”
“Not really.”
Reyla leaned closer; her brow tight as she took in the arrangement. At least she wasn't smirking or snarling any longer, though she only mirrored my behavior. “Are these yours?” Curiosity lit her voice.
“You think I'm a wizard?” I turned to lean my shoulder against the wall beside the narrow table where I could better watch her. And where the light breeze skipping through the room made it easier to avoid catching her scent. “I’m fae. Pure fae. Wizards craft simple spells and light candles.”
My mocking tone made her smirk. She rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to taunt me back. “Not the ones I've heard of. They can be quite deadly. Maybe you haven't yet met your match.”
Oh, but I had—in this woman.
“What wizards have you heard of?” I asked.
“My friend had an encounter with one once.”
“And they lived to tell the tale?”
“Tempest is quite powerful.”
To kill the Bledmire king, she'd have to be. “Avoid wizards,” I said, though I couldn’t tell her why. “None will act in your best interest.”
