“Pity. Well, what are you waiting for, Avery? Clean it up.”
I kneel to place the croissants and muffins back on the tray, reaching through the mirage-table. I shiver at the feel of the magic, cold as snow.
My cheeks burn as the pair watch me pick up scraps of wasted food that faeries and Unluckies would kill over. After turning the pot upright, I pull out my rag to soak up the hot liquid, my hands red and tingling from holding the burning silver. Gritting my teeth, I work the rag, scalding my skin once more.
“Is that not hot?” Lord Eli asks. “You could use your genius to call to the water in the coffee to move it.” His voice softens. “Unless…you suffer from being a Molder?”
I focus on the muddied rag in front of me. “No, my lord. My genius is intact.”
“And nature still grants most of your requests?”
“It has not denied me in years.”
A point of pride among my kind—but I am not among my kind. Like the way bugs and plants can emit signals to one another, so can a faerie genius send out a call along the plane ofmagic to the elements. An appeal to water or dirt or even fire, and nature fulfills or denies the request. Only the High Fae can wield the elements and other creatures without their consent. Only faeries fall victim to Moldhood, when nature rejects their appeals over and over until the genius atrophies with disuse. Becoming a Molder is to become magically mute, and like with everything else, the High Fae cannot be silenced.
“Then why do you not use magic to complete your tasks?” Lord Eli asks.
Over the arm of the settee rises Kassandra’s pleased face, chin propped on her palm.
“Tell Lord Eli why you must do your chores by hand,” she commands.
She wants me to say it.
I swallow. “It’s that—”
“Look at him while he’s speaking to you.”
I lean back on my heels to take in the befuddled High Fae standing over me and the other grinning like a cat with her favorite rat.
“Because my magic smells, my lord.”
Kassandra bursts into giggles.
“Itreeks!” She claps. “It’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever smelled. Must be the human blood mixed in there.”
Eli shakes his head. “The likelihood of human blood after their extinction is so low—”
“Then I swear she was birthed from her mother’s ass!”
I clutch the rag, longing to slap her across the face with it.
“Kass,” Eli cuts in, frowning, as if to spare me. “Maybe we should start our lesson now. To practice your water play.”
“Did you not just see my Illusion?”
“Your father and brother requested root magic for your display at the coronation.”
“Planes, they want me weak, playing in the dirt like the faeries.”
Forgotten, I smack the rag onto the pile of waste, then pick up the tray as the two argue.
“Just because your genius can perform more than root magic does not mean your genius should forget it,” Eli answers, helping her to her feet. “You must walk before you can run.”
“But why walk when you excel at running?”
He sighs. “Where’s the water pitcher?”
“Briar set it on the dining room table before her shift ended. Avery!”
