“Enough.” Victor leaned back on his elbows. The light caught the copper and gold in his curls, shimmering like a treasure.
She could only imagine what she must have looked like while wielding the swirling dark, giving it life. If only she’d grown wings made of shadow and floated above them all like a dark god, like a monster with a perfect face. “Are you afraid of me?”
“You’ve always terrified me, Selene,” Victor said. “I’ve often wondered if magic could be … more.”
She’d wondered the same thing, wanted to know why magic was kept as entertainment. There were so many ways they could reshape the world and make it better: an end to hunger, protection for ships from storms, rain in the worst of a drought. Magic could change lives. It could save them.
“Is that why you’re here?” Selene kept her tone light.
“I’m here because my father beckoned and I came running like a good dog,” Victor said. “And in turn, I’m finding a way to make cheese out of soured milk.”
“What do you think magic can do for you?” Selene said.
“Anything. Everything. Pirates off the north coast have started employing mages, and the rumor is our allies and enemies are training soldiers to do the same.”
The realization settled on her, thick and heavy. “You want art to be a weapon.”
“Isn’t it already?” Victor’s smile fell away. “I saw what you could do.”
“What I did was wrong.”
Selene considered the rules and all the ways she was breaking them. This was the least of her sins.
“And yet it can be done. There is so much more to magic than we’ve been led to believe.”
Selene took a deep breath. He was right, of course. Sniffing out truth and trouble in a way only he could. What would he do if he knew the extent of what magic was capable of ? She didn’t want to think about it. She filled her cup with tea and poured in more honey. “Did you really gamble your mother’s jewels?”
“Yes,” Victor said. “Though I have an agreement with the head of that particular establishment. Whatever leaves my pockets goes to the poor. It’s the least I can do.”
“And you trust him?”
“We served together. I trust him with my life.”
Selene pressed her thumb into the side of the teacup. The heat of it sent pulses through her healing skin. “Why bother then with the spectacle?”
Victor cut the stem off a strawberry and handed it to her. The knife pressed into the base of his thumb and stained it red with the juice. “With enough shame, I was hoping the king would send me away again and I could get back to my ship.”
“But with Alexandre’s abdication …”
Victor’s eyes were distant. “You’re not the only one who can’t leave.”
Selene looked down at her cup. There was honey still at the bottom, viscous and golden. She swirled it around slowly.
“Do you want to see my ship?” Victor reached into his pocket and held out a thin, silver daguerreotype.
Selene cupped it in her hands, this precious thing. She turned it toward the light, the candle casting the silver into gold. She’d expected something worthy of a prince. Even in the picture, Victor’s clipper looked small, with scratches and patches on the hull and sails that had been stained and then bleached out with the sun. The figurehead was the only part of the ship that seemed cared for—an only slightly chipped nightingale with wings that spread down the forepeak.
“Isn’t she beautiful?”
“She’s not what I expected.”
“Ah yes. I’m sure you thought I’d be in one of those grand, useless ships that are only good at sinking.”
“Yes,” Selene said. “I did.”
“I strive to be useful, Selene. I know, I know. It may come as a shock to you. I do more than drink port and spin sextants, unlike my brothers.”
“I can see that.” Selene traced the places where the ship had been damaged and carefully repaired. This was no ornament. For all Selene knew about ships, she could tell that this was fast and well-loved.
