“By all means, I welcome the name.” Tia lifts a brow and shakes her head. “You see, those same people who were afraid of our powers used the word to try to scare people into hating us. At first, they called us ‘heretics,’ but then the name ‘witch’ caught on. I suppose they deemed it crueler. They thought the word was slanderous, that it would make usoutcasts. And in a way, they were right. But we, who have this ability to call magic to us, embrace the word because we know it simply means our craft is strong.”
Nadya has awe in her eyes. “If it’s in your blood… does that mean… that it’s in mine?”
I’m pretty sure the expression on Nadya’s face is hope, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Tia rubs her chin. “There’s a high chance, though bloodlines can be diluted over time. There is a way or two to check, though. Here, take my hand.”
Nadya swallows hard before setting her cup down. Her gaze darts to me, and then she scoots forward in her chair, reaching out for her aunt’s hand.
At first, nothing happens. But after a moment, the room warms, and the candles flicker. In the next moment, the flames blaze brighter. Nadya’s eyes widen, reflecting the glow.
Tia smiles. “There. You feel that?”
Nadya nods, breathless. “What is that?”
“Our magic feeding each other. Happens when two connected bloodlines meet.” Tia squeezes Nadya’s hands. “Yours is quiet, but it’s there.”
Nadya looks as if she’s going to jump out of her skin. “‘Quiet’? How do I… Can you teach me to make it louder?”
Tia grunts. “My dear, I don’t think I have it in me anymore to be your mentor. Not at my age. But I can help you out with the basics.” She stands, and Nadya stares as she moves to an old, cluttered bookshelf. “Where in the gods’ rotting teeth did I put it…”
Nadya quickly looks to me, clasping her hands in her lap. I can tell she’s nervous, not just because of the way one of her feet keeps tapping, but because I can feel it pulsing out of her.
Tia whistles, then slides a tome off the shelf. For a quick moment, I’m reminded of the book that jumped off the shelf near Nadya in Podrosa. Tia comes back to stand in front of her great-niece.
Nadya reaches for the book slowly, reverently. The leather is crackedand worn, the edges of the pages curled with age. Strange symbols curl over the cover like vines.
“Is this thegrimoire?” Nadya’s voice comes out in a whisper.
Tia chuckles. “No, child. That was lost in the Age of Blood—torn from our hands and burned by cowards who feared what they couldn’t control. This here’s a pale cousin. Notes written down by some of the first witches. It’s got a few basic spells. Simple things like starting a flame, pushing life into a dying plant, some illusion spells. Special brews and potions to fit certain situations. There are some advanced spells near the end, like a temporary cloaking spell. Nothing grand, but it’ll teach you focus. Precision.”
Nadya gapes, her eyes focused on the book. “That all sounds incredible.”
Her excitement scares me for some reason, and my thoughts bubble straight to the surface, unfiltered. “I don’t know if Nadya could handle the consequences that come with using magic,” I blurt out. “She’s clever, curious, compassionate. But she hasn’t seen the things I’ve seen or had to make the choices I’ve made. Not only am I fae, but I’m a soldier. Trained to fight. When situations get out of hand, I know what to do.”
I bite my tongue too late, the words already out. Nadya furrows her brows at me. I’ve clearly struck a nerve.
Tia snorts softly. “Good,” she mutters. “Soldiers break things. Witches mend them.”
“I meant she’s not ready,” I say again, blinking at my unfiltered outbursts. “Magic can be dangerous. Unstable.” I grip my mug, eyeing the tea suspiciously.Special brews and potions to fit certain situations.“What… What was in this?”
Tia raises a brow. “Just a little something to make sure my guests aren’t trying to manipulate me.”
Nadya and I stare at her.
Tia sighs but doesn’t look sorry. “It’s a brew that lowers your defenses, eases the truth out of you.”
“Gods,” I mutter, setting the mug down. “That feels like a violation.”
“Lying would be a violation,” Tia retorts. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
I whip my head toward Nadya. “I didn’t mean anything bad by what I said, and you know I’m telling the truth because—” I lift my mug to drive my point.
It takes a moment before Nadya gives me a nod, and I feel as if I’ve caused a small rift between us.
“I tell you what,” Tia begins, gesturing toward the book. “Practice a little. Start small. And if you think it’s too overwhelming or gives you a bad feeling, then simply stop.”
Nadya gapes at her. “Are you letting me borrow this?”
