She was daring me to do my worst, yet she had no idea what was coming for her next.
But I did. I’d see to it personally.
The fates help us both because I couldn’t wait.
24
ISI
Later that night, I paced the length of my chamber, counting silently with each step. Five strides from the hearth to the window. Five back to the bathing room door. Again. And again.
The castle had gone quiet—mostly. A few footsteps echoed now and then in the hall, guards on a late round, staff finishing their night’s work, or maybe even my friends. It wouldn’t surprise me if Derren and Lexie only used one room.
I was waiting for the lull, for the particular hush that fell between the end of one day and the beginning of the next. The stillness where secrets liked to hide.
Moonlight slid in through the tall windows, spilling silver across the stone floor and brushing against the edges of the bed, the wardrobe, and the chair in the corner below the muted torch.
I needed answers. Someone here knew what happened to Addie. Someone knew where the missing children had gone. And if I was careful, and I asked in a delicate way, I might get answers.
I’d be cautious. No accusations. No trembling voice or sharp-edged grief. Just a woman, clever and quiet, looking to understand her new home. That’s all anyone would see.
I stopped and pressed a hand to the wall, the cool stone grounding me. My magic stirred faintly, like smoke deep in my lungs, uneasy but listening. If only I knew how to use it.
Imagine, a woman who grew up in a kingdom where magic was not only forbidden but those who even hinted at having abilities were put to death, wishing to harness this power she should abhor.
Instead, I craved using it in a way I never had.
What happened to those taken to the reformatory? I wasn’t sure, and the few times I’d asked my father, he’d scowled at my questions, sternly telling me to forget about it. The children were fine. They’d be released back to their families once the magic had been driven out of them.
Answers like that had placated me when I was young. When I was older, I’d tried to enter the reformatory multiple times, only to be turned away.
And was more severely chastised by my father after.
Once the sounds died down to nothing and the stillness told me that even the bones of the building were fast asleep for the night, I fastened on my boots and cracked open my door. The corridor beyond yawned wide and empty, shadows stretching in dark ribbons across the tiles.
Castle halls were always different at night. Quieter, yes, but also heavier for some reason. As I slunk through the hallways, every stone seemed to watch me. The air felt full of whispers too soft to make out the words.
I kept to the inner corridors, keeping my steps light and quick, avoiding windows and torchlight as much as possible. I found the servants’ wing still. The library door locked.
Then I smelled bread. Warm, golden. A little sweet. The kitchen must lie ahead.
I slowed as I neared the cracked-open doorway, light spilling outacross the dark floor. Hearing voices, I stopped and poked my nose into the crack and listened, trying to discover what I could.
The kitchen buzzed like a hive. Cooks and assistants moved from one counter to another, preparing food for the morning meal. Some stirred pots with spoons that floated on their own, others used magic to do other culinary tasks.
I held my breath, watching.
An older woman spun apples in the air, peeling their skins with a flick of her fingers while other ingredients stirred themselves in a bowl in front of her. Even the shadows felt softer in the kitchen light, curling under the worktables like sleeping cats.
They didn’t flaunt their magic. It was justthere.As natural as reaching for a knife or brushing flour from a sleeve.
No fear or guilt or worry that someone would report them, that soldiers would come and take them away.
My magic stirred, uncertain, wary. It hadn’t felt quite like this back home. I’d sensed it shifting around even more since the bonding.
I swallowed hard, the scent of spices and sugar brushing the back of my throat.
Would I ever wield magic this easily and without shame? The idea made my chest ache, though I wasn’t sure if the feeling represented longing or loss.
