A chill pricks across my skin.
Nadya runs her palms over the silk of her dress, smoothing it out. “What happened to them? The women.”
Ezra’s voice is quiet now. “They were ambushed on the coast. No official account names the killer. But some texts claim they saw what was coming—and went willingly into the sea.”
I frown. “Why would they do that?”
“Perhaps they believed their part was done and someone else would rise after them.” He gives us both a long look. “Someone stronger.”
The silence that follows is thick, and I can feel Nadya holding herbreath beside me.
Then Ezra stands, stretching the tension from his back. “Come. I think we’ve talked enough about the past. Let’s see what your magic has to say today.”
“My magic?” I fidget, squeezing my fingers, as if subconsciously trying to keep the magic at bay.
“Yes, Celeste. Tell me. Are there any new developments?”
“Your powder is still working.” I decide it’s easier to start with truths he already knows. “No night wanderings. So that’s good news.”
He waits a beat. “Is this your way of telling me there’s bad news?”
“Notbadnews, really.”
“But something unexpected, perhaps?” Ezra tilts his head.
I glance at Nadya. She doesn’t know that I felt my body buzzing during the storm. She doesn’t know about the pain that shot through my head. I didn’t tell her my suspicions, mostly because I’m frightened to admit them to myself.
“The day of Torbin’s funeral,” I begin, already feeling my mouth go dry, “there was a storm that suddenly blew in.”
“Yes, I remember.” Ezra waits for more, but his expression changes when I remain quiet. “No. That can’t be.”
“What?” Nadya scoots to the edge of her chair. “What can’t be?”
Ezra straightens his shoulders, studying me for a moment longer before facing Nadya. “Celeste suspects she may have influenced the storm.”
Nadya whips her head in my direction. “That was you?”
“I don’t know.” For some reason, I feel ashamed. “Maybe.”
Her jaw drops. “Impressive!”
Ezra paces, his hands clasped behind his back. “Tell me everything. What you were feeling, emotionally and physically. Even the small details might help us understand.”
I take a minute to compose myself before I recount the details for him. How I was filled with anger because everyone was being told Torbin was dead, that he was some honorable man who should be revered. Frustrated because I felt Torbin was still out there, that the tsar wasplanning something big, but the king refused to listen. I told Ezra about the buzzing in my blood, within my bones, the zing of power coursing through me, and how the sky darkened.
But I don’t mention the bolt of pain.
“Interesting.” Ezra watches me for a long moment, then sighs. “I’ve been scanning every book I have, searching for anything that might explain how the fae who hid their powers during the Age of Blood regained them. There are plenty of histories that claim it was a deal with the gods, that their magic was returned as some divine gift.” He scoffs slightly, shaking his head. “But I believe there’s more to the truth than that. If the fae could hide their magic, there must have been a way to retrieve it—something deliberate, something tangible.”
I frown. “And you think I could find that answer?”
“I think you mightbethe answer.” His gaze is sharp, unwavering. “Which means we need to keep searching for it within you. This… magic you wielded at the funeral, perhaps it was an extension of the energy force you seem to have developed.”
Energy force. It sounds so powerful, but I feel so far from being able to control it.
“If not, it’s an entirely different path, which adds another mystery to our puzzle.”
“Just what we needed,” I joke.
