CHAPTER 17
The child must possess a significant power or I’d have drowned her at birth. Don’t forget, Mercy was a Villente. One of the two families whose offspring are guaranteed to be gifted. Her bastard daughter contains a spark that speaks of greatness. It’s the only reason I permit her to breathe.
— LETTERS FROM KING ROMERO IV TO THE SECOND PRINCESS OF CARUSH
Glesni winced as she bent over the cluttered table, placing down another brown mouse. She sat back with a grunt, her face tightening as her aches and pains bit in. Tendrils of wispy white hair framed her serious face. A lamp flickered on the table, igniting an ember in her dark eyes. She brushed crumbs from her threadbare cardigan, before picking up a pencil in her gnarled fingers, scratching down some notes on a ripped piece of parchment.
I groaned, rubbing my pounding temples. Glesni turned to me, her lips pursed.
‘Those headaches are getting worse, child. You really need to focus if we’re going to stop this blight.’
I stared longingly at the jug of mead as I blinked. ‘Sharing three bottles of wine after dinner last night hasn’t helped either.’
I winced as Glesni barked out a laugh, my brain rattling.
‘I don’t think I can do this today,’ I said as Glesni poured out a glass for me, which I quickly downed, relishing its slight reprieve.
‘You can’t afford not to. Regardless of how much fine wine is floating through those gifted veins, you can’t miss a day. Not unless you’ve suddenly decided death is more welcome.’
I groaned, laying my arms on the table and resting my head on them.
‘Actually, right now, death sounds…ouch!’
Glesni sat with a groan of her own, the rolled parchment she’d slapped across my head clutched in her hand.
‘I suppose we can’t afford to lose any more mice either.’ A wicked smile lit up her face, and my guts churned uncomfortably at the sight. ‘But you’re in no position to skip a day, so let’s focus on theory instead.’
‘Eugh!’ I buried my head further into my arms.
‘Don’t complain, child,’ she said, swatting the back of my head again. ‘I’d have thought a little library girl like you would appreciate the theory.’
‘I’ve already studied every worthwhile text on the subject.’
‘You’ve read mine from cover to cover then?’
I lifted my head. ‘You’ve written a book?’
Her beady eyes widened. ‘I wrotethebook, child. Sit up. No wonder you keep fucking this up.’
I raised my head, unsure whether the swimming form of Glesni was due to my hangover or poor sight. ‘So, what information does your book contain that’s so different to the other twenty or so I’ve ploughed through?’
Glesni set her stare on me, tilting her head slightly, and I looked away.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘for a start, my work, which is in its second edition I’ll add, contains two chapters dedicated solely to those of us who are Deviants.’
My blood chilled as I played with my nails, refusing to meet her gaze.
‘Quite niche then.’
She laughed low. I focused on Pablo snapping at the many green plants covering every surface of Glesni’s chambers.
‘There are those of us who need it.’ She leaned forward.
Prickly heat rose up my neck. I turned my attention to the jug of mead and reached a trembling hand forward to pour myself another glass.
‘Yet, most of us don’t.’
The old mentor leaned in so close her breath warmed my cheek. ‘Deviants are blessed with two powers.’
