“I shouldn’t tell you,” she breathed.
“Your secret is safe here,” he offered his most debonair smile, sending more persuasion toward her.
She tilted her head and then smiled. “Yes, I suppose you are right. Your mother always was my favorite sister, and it has led me to favor you as well.” She took another drink. “Everyone thinks my ability is fine dress design, but they are mistaken. The dresses are only a medium. I can make the very fibers absorb magic, even if a heb is wearing it and merely touches a magical object. If they have budding magic, like Miss Retton, or established magic, it will absorb some of that too.” She laughed, clearly tipsy. “And I have figured out a way to syphon it.”
Gaius nearly choked on his meat. Suddenly his eyes focused on a beaded sash on her dress. Where had he seen that before?
“That...is very clever, aunt. But where do you store it?”
“Oh, that I’ll never tell, even to you.” She laughed again. “Now that is my secret.” Her eyes narrowed and she tapped her fingers on her belt.
He recalled their first night with the watery nymph. She had worn a sash then too, but it had been blue. That must be where she funneled the stolen magic. It must be a relic, which she always wore but disguised to match her outfit.
She rubbed the beaded end of the sash that dangled down her dress. Gaius realized it was a mannerism he had seen her do often.
“I see,” he said, offering a smile to soothe her. His aunt finished her glass.
“Yes, the curious thing is though, not one ounce came from that awful Cassia. She must really be more dull than even an average heb to not have anything even go through her veins. What a dull family. Such a lack of ability, especially her.”
He took a slow drink of water to allow him time to think. He ought to have more harsh feelings toward Cassia as well, but at such a comment, Gaius bristled, feeling to defend her. Why should he though, now?
Why did his aunt have to point out how unmagical Cassia was? He had tried to convince himself that most people needed magic to set them apart, but not Cassia. Though how he could even think such things after her pointed rejection, he did not know.
The fact was he still thought of her, and far too often. And of his outburst in the forest. How had he lost control so quickly? He prided himself on containing his magic and using it to benefit himself.
Aunt Hepsabah was staring at him.
“Well you are very clever,” he said. “What do you hope to gain from so much stolen magic?” He had to mask the horror of it until he could figure out what could be done. Stealing others’ magic, or syphoning magic through them, was dark and evil and the basest of actions.
“Oh don’t you understand, nephew? She with the most power, the most magic, is simply the best. I crave it. I need it.” She absently fingered her sash.
He had often thought her tiresome and over the top. But this was evil and terrifying. She was an out and out thief.
He tried hard to attempt a smile. “A wonderful meal once again.” He placed his napkin on his half-eaten dinner.
Gaius dismissed himself and retired upstairs.
* * *
Unable to abide his aunt’s toxic house any longer, Gaius made his way to London. He feared what bad influence she would wield or what she might attempt to steal from him.
A few weeks with Rulan Blythesome would hopefully lead him to his relic. And maybe, if he were lucky, clear his mind of Cassia. Maybe he could find some way to confront his aunt as well.
“This house runs through a strong ley line, Blythe,” said Gaius the morning after his arrival. “Have you tried turning anything to gold lately? I know you honed the skill when we were in school together, but I’d wager your ability could grow with more practice, especially here.”
“Oh Dark, you sound like my mother.” His eyes turned bored. “But come to think of it, I haven’t tried in a while.”
“Shall we give it a go?” said Gaius, attempting nonchalance.
Blythesome sighed. “Sure, you pushy oaf.” He rubbed his hands together. “Since I’m so out of practice, let’s make it small. How about that rose?” Gaius turned toward the single rose in a vase on the adjacent wall.
Blythesome closed his eyes. At first Gaius felt nothing, then slowly, tiny golden flecks emanated from his friend’s fingers. Blythesome then opened his eyes, and swirled his fingers, finishing with an outward flick. Before their eyes, the flecks of gold flew to the rose and covered it completely.
“That was much easier,” said Blythesome. His hands twisted toward a bookend in the shape of a horse’s head. Within moments gold flecks covered every part of the face and mane.
“You know,” said Gaius, “I need to apologize. It wasn’t my place to convince you to leave Netherfield.”
Blythesome was still studying the gold horse but looked up. “You think we should have stayed?”
