Magic grew stronger with time.
Apparently.
Healing from sadness did, too.
Also apparently.
Hesper perched on the window ledge, one leg hanging carelessly to the floor. She never ceased watching me the whole time, and it set my nerves on fire.
“Do you mind?” I asked, frazzled.
“Am I ruining your evening with my sitting down?” She quirked a brow.
“No, you’re just always watching. Look out the window or something. The sunset is bound to be much more interesting than me.” I set back to pacing and fussing.
“I highly doubt that,” she replied. I ignored her. “What happened down there?”
“We went to the market and retrieved items.” I folded and refolded my new cloak, my hands shaking.
“What happened with the seer, Clara?” She wouldn’t take the bait of my conversational diversions.
“That’s none of your business, actually,” I snapped.
“It is.” She got up from the window ledge and made her way to the opposite side of the bed. “You are undone. I wish to know why.”
A war raged on inside of me. A large part screamed to never tell anyone that story. Rosie barely knew any of it; why should Hesper? She was my protector sent by Eldrene, not my friend. Whatever moment we’d had in the market was just that—a moment, nothing more. But another part of me begged to tell someone. Hesper had just shared a bit of her story, so maybe I could share mine.
I settled somewhere in the middle.
“Before my birth, a seer came to my mother, told her the child she bore would possess great magic.” I began to pick at my cloak. “Obviously, the seer was wrong.”
“Were they?” Hesper asked.
“Seeing as I don’t have magic, yes, I would call that quite incorrect.”
“Clara, I really think you should try—”
“Stop, please don’t,” I said, leaving the bed and heading toward the hearth.
“You have magic,” she insisted.
Rage coursed through me, muddled through the old heartbreak.
“No, I don’t!”
“Yes, you do.”
“You don’t understand.” My voice rose, my heart splintered. “If I had magic, I would be able to use it. If I had magic, I wouldn’t have had to struggle every day in Moss to grow anything at all. If I had magic, maybe my parents would have fucking loved me!”
The words landed like lead in the room. Hesper’s eyes shuttered; I had even shocked myself. My hands flew to my mouth and tears pricked my eyes.
“What?” Hesper asked softly, disbelief and pain lacing her tone.
“It’s the truth.” My voice quavered.
“You are not from Moss, then?” she asked, because even she knew not a soul in Moss would ever treat a child like that.
A question I’d never had to answer. Never wanted to answer.
