Once they’d left, I tugged the invisible item from my pocket and laid it on my palm, running my fingertips across it. Smooth. Long, though flat. I had no idea what it could be or why it was hidden like this. If only the librarian had left a note.
Did a spell hide it?
I wasn’t sure if I dared thrust nasty nullification magic at it to see if that might make a difference. I’d show it to Merrick or Lorant later to see what they thought of it. For now, I rose and went to my bedroom, opening the jewelry cases on the top of one of the bureaus, sorting through the endless gleaming necklaces, bracelets, and earrings until I found a flat velvet bag about the size of whatever the librarian gave me. After sliding the object inside, I put it in my pocket for safe keeping.
For now, I wanted to try again to use nullification on the ball.
In the sitting area once more, I tugged in nasty power and sent it at the ball, but each time, I failed. And no wonder. I was doing it by rote now, not using true focus.
Slow down, I told myself. I'd always been impatient, wanting everything and wanting it now. Here I was, hoping to cast the spell within days of learning how.
Instead of yanking in more slimy magic, I rested my head on the back of the sofa and let my body relax, starting first with my toes and working my way upward until I could almost feel myself falling into that lull I sunk into before I fell asleep.
Now try. But don't be a brute about it. Be gentle.Back at the fortress, I’d been wrong about dragons. It was Tempest who convinced me that treating them kindly resulted in the best results. Perhaps power preferred kindness as well.
But when I scanned the room this time, I noticed a slightly different-appearing power hovering at the edge of my senses, coiling and releasing like a feral creature cowering in the underbrush. I let out a slow breath, relaxing my body even further, and made sure I didn't look directly at this new power. It wasn’t exactly nasty, though it arced and sparked like the slimy stuff. This power felt different, almost smoother.
With my eyes closed, I stretched out my awareness, coaxing it forward with patience rather than force, my mind focusing on itspeculiar shimmer that made it look like a ribbon of molten silver laced with faint streaks of lavender. It was as beautiful as it was strange. I didn’t trust it, of course. Each power came with its own temperament, and I was already learning they seemed to have minds of their own. The power I pulled in to control shadows felt like a workhorse I tethered to a plow. This power felt timid. Like a trimont, the fleet-footed, gentle creatures that darted through the woods and grazed in open meadows.
I smirked. One could say it was almost like afawn.
It came closer, seeming to sniff the air to check me out the way I did it. Instead of reaching for it, I coaxed it, urging it within my mind to come near.
Then I stroked it, gliding my mental finger along its ribbon-like spine.
It recoiled, darting back from my touch, but it turned before it went too far and acted almost coy, twisting a tip around to look over its magical shoulder.
“Come closer, little one,” I whispered. My chest felt tight, but I held steady, even as it shifted around and wavered, sort of looking my way, though it didn't have eyes.
I didn't move. I even held my breath.
“Aren’t you a sweet little power?” I said softly. “Would you like to play?”
The ribbon of silver flowed and rippled, slowly gliding near enough I could touch it with my mind’s fingers. This time, it let me stroke it, and it quivered.
I gently wrapped my mental fingers around it, gasping at the sharp chill sinking into my bones upon touch. The lavender hues swirled inside the silver like a delicate mist.
I tugged it inside me. There was no other way to describe it but that. It flowed, almost inky and cloying, yet with a light scent that reminded me of Tempest's favorite silver-tipped black roses.
As it settled within me, I let myself adjust to its feel, molding my will around it like I was carefully shaping clay. This was no wild beast to be wrangled. Like the power I used to command shadows, this felt like a keen blade I could wield.
I'd always loved blades.
I invited it deeper, coaxing on the endless strand wavering in front of me while binding it in place with my focus. I wove control out of instinct, as though I was pulling taut a fine web.
A subtle rustle rang out, and I opened my eyes, expecting to find one of my ladies returned, eager to chat. Or Farris bounding into the room, spreading water droplets everywhere after his bath.
No one was here but me.
And the diary—no, the ball that cloaked it—still sat in my lap, unchanged.
With the lightest touch, I uncoiled the new power, extending it in my mind toward the ball. Channeling it, I supposed. Where had I heard that term? Maybe from my brother.
My fingers skimmed its cool surface, but my awareness went beyond the physical as I probed the magic wrapped around the ball in a veneer. I willed the power to examine the spell along with me, to find its weakness.
“On the surface, where the threads are bound to the object,” Lorant had more or less told me. “That’s where you can break it.”
I sensed more than saw the shimmer that resembled warped glass, layers of it stacked on top of each other, shifting and oozing like oil skimming the surface of a puddle.
