“That sounds like how mages can use enchantments.”
“I have an exceptionally strong tie to the node.”
“That was the reason you gave for being immune to the truth-telling enchantment. Does that mean that not every person with a blood-tie shares that immunity?”
“Exactly. There is usually one person every generation with a stronger tie who is immune, though sometimes it is more and my father’s generation had none.”
“So, it isn’t because you are the duke.”
“No. I was immune to that enchantment even while by father had the primary node-tie.”
“And he wasn’t immune.” Her expression shifted, becoming a glare directed pointedly my way. “Why didn’t you tell me you are a truth-teller?”
My ears flattened. “Because I’m not. My only magic comes from the node.”
Her raised eyebrow spoke louder than words. “You trigger enchantments in a manner exclusive to mages. You are immune to truth-telling.”
“Because of the node.”
“Yet your father didn’t share your immunity. Could he trigger Truths without invocation?”
“He never tried. He didn’t use many Truths often enough for it to matter,” I lied. My father had attempted to use a Truth without the invocation once I discovered the ability. He couldn’t even sense the strands of power, let alone use them.
I wasn’t sure exactly why I was lying to Isa. Perhaps because she noticed the inconsistencies in how my father and I could use the node without ever knowing my father. She recognized that there might be something more to my affinity for node magics.
I was twenty-six years old, had grown up surrounded by truth magics, and had never once considered the possibility that I might have power of my own. Isa came in and reached the conclusion I might be a mage in a handful of days. I needed to figure out if there was any chance she was right.
If I was a truth-teller, then not only had I ignored my own power my entire life, but I had ripped Isa away from her life for no reason. I had gambled that a truth-mage could do what I couldn’t and use the node to reverse Cecily's curse.
Considering the months I had spent working to break the curse on my own, I wasn’t sure if learning I was a mage would be good or bad news. It might mean only Cecily could break the curse. It might mean that if I learned to use my power instead of the node’s, I could accomplish so much more.
If I was a mage.
I plucked another strand of power, calling a bowl of beef stew in front of me. “Eat before the chicken gets cold. Or find something else in the cookbook, though I’ll tell you this chicken recipe is delicious.”
To my surprise, Isa didn’t push any more about the possibility of me being a mage. That didn’t mean she didn’t push at all, though. “Then why aren’t you having any?”
I didn’t answer, summoning more food, a crusty loaf of bread, butter, garlic sautéed green beans, and wine. Maybe the influx of food would distract her from her question. I hunched over my bowl, knowing Isa wouldn’t let me off the hook twice in one evening.Would this admission be more or less embarrassing than acknowledging I might have lived my entire life without ever realizing I was a mage?
Isa waited until the last item appeared, then pulled the empty plate at the seat next to her over and sliced off a generous portion of chicken breast. She transferred it to the plate, cutting it into small pieces, then pushed the plate toward me. She filled her own plate. “I take it roast chicken is a bit like a pot of tea. It only comes in a form that isn’t conducive to a cat serving himself? Do you have to eat stew for every meal?”
I pushed aside the bowl and helped myself to a bite of chicken. It was too late to avoid the embarrassment, so I might as well enjoy the food. “Not if I dine alone. When I don’t need to worry about manners, I can eat roast chicken just fine. I was sparing you.”
“If you’d rather dine alone, just let me know. Now that I know how to summon my own meals, I can make do for myself.”
I shook my head. “I’d rather eat endless bowls of stew. At this point, any company is good company.”
And I was lying to her once again. I often skipped meals with Marc. But I’d take Isa’s insults and anger over his polite conversations about nothing any day.
She laughed. “This is probably the first time I’ve been called good company. If you’d rather dine with me than by yourself, then I can prepare your plate.” She paused, her lips twitching. “I’ll just pretend you are a small child and chop everything up into bite-sized pieces, Your Grace.”
And that easily, needing her to cut my food was no longer embarrassing, but a joke—though I’d probably hiss at anyone else who said the same thing. “If you are going to treat me like a child, you can at least call me Felix. Given everything else you say to me, it seems pointless to insist on honorifics.”
She shrugged. “Speaking of impolite conversations, what is with the decorating in the castle? Is that controlled by a Truth, too, or can I blame you?”
“It is not controlled by a Truth, but I have not decorated anything but my private suite.”
“Does the castle reset to how it was arranged during the first duke’s life, like the books get re-shelved?”
