“So, no. I don’t feel silly.” He pushed off my legs, falling back on all fours. “I’d say my emotions are somewhere on the spectrum from despair to resignation at this point.”
“Maybe you aren’t a mage, after all?”
He snorted. “You already made a rather compelling case supporting the opposite conclusion. Do you really think there is a chance I’m not a mage?”
“A chance, sure.”
“But it isn’t likely.”
I bit my lip. “We should make certain, anyway. I could be completely wrong. I’m not a magical theorist.”
Felix’s tail drooped. “What am I supposed to see if I’m a mage?”
“I’m not certain. Like I said, I sense magic as sounds. I can feel the ley lines in this room even when I don’t concentrate. The amount of raw magic is extreme, but it is a subtle sensation. Not even something I really hear. More of an instinctive awareness.” I closed my eyes and focused on the power around me.
The node magic hummed through my blood, drowning out everything else. I walked backward, my eyes still closed, increasing the distance between myself and that knot of power. Finally, a different whisper caught my attention. Raw magic, not weak, but in its unshaped state it was like hearing a whistle pitched so low, it was almost beyond my range. I moved closer to the source, until I stood directly in the nearest ley line.
“What do you see directly around me?” I asked Felix, opening my eyes. “It will probably be misty or hazy, something you would squint at and still barely make out.”
Felix stared. He blinked and came closer. Then he stared some more. His gaze went unfocused, and he shook his head. “It is like rain drops in the distance, except they are falling sideways.”
“Toward the node?”
He nodded.
“You are seeing the ley line that feeds your node.”
“Not my node. Not anymore.”
Thirteen
Felix
???
There was nota single Truth spell that summoned alcohol in a form I could consume. Wine and spirits all came bottled with a glass. I tried, but I couldn’t open any. There was either no beer on castle grounds or Duke Valois hadn’t been a fan of the drink and hadn’t bothered to make a Truth to summon a mug.
Once it became clear that I wouldn’t be getting drunk, I gave in and made plans to deal with the fact that my node was unlocked. I had suspected as much since Cecily cursed me, but I had maintained a sliver of hope that I was wrong. That hope had sustained me as I worked to break the curse, but now it was time to admit defeat.
Not that I’d give up entirely, but I’d have to continue my attempts on my own, and I was realistic enough to know my odds of success were minuscule. Isa would be free once I passed the contract I had sent her father through the node. I’d amend Marc’s contract at the same time, sending him on his way, since he didn’t seem to have my best interests at heart, anyway. Neither of them could betray what had happened.
To maintain the secret, I’d become a hermit. Even if I broke the curse, it was the best option. Though the node was unlocked, it still enforced contracts, so I’d still have to fulfill my duties as the primary node-tie holder. I wasn’t sure how it even worked that I could be theprimary holder of a tie to a node that was no longer locked, but the spells Duke Valois had cast centuries ago still pulled on the node.
To fulfill my duties, I had to continue witnessing contracts. I’d have the clerks and secretaries continue their jobs from Leort and Haiwella. It had worked fine these past two months. Besides, I wouldn’t be the first duke who chose not to have contract negotiations take place in his residence.
The difficulty would be communicating with Berklay and arranging for deliveries of contracts and food. Without Marc as a go between, it would be harder to hide my condition.
I banished the various bottles I had summoned from my desk and called in a stack of paper and a bottle of ink. The ink bottle had a lid. I thought about it for a moment and called in a pen and ink together. As I had hoped, the inkwell came uncapped, the pen balanced inside. I gripped the pen with my teeth and tossed it to the floor, then dipped my claw in the ink.
I had signed my name multiple times since my transformation, but the last time I had tried to write anything more, I had decided it made more sense to dictate to Marc. It was too easy to send my claw tearing through the paper, and too hard to hold it in place as I wrote without smearing the words and covering myself in ink.
But it wasn’t impossible.
By the time I finished my letter to Berklay, I really regretted the lack of a drink. Once the ink dried, I folded the letter without too much difficulty—it wasn’t neat, but it would do. Then I contemplated how to seal it. I would send the message to Leort with Marc, one last task before his duties would be complete. I did not want him reading it, though.
The wisest course of action would be to ask Isa to stamp my seal on the letter rather than trying to melt the wax myself. She’d respect my privacy and not try to read the letter.
I looked down at the paper on my desk and decided that I wasn’t worried about Isa reading the letter and knowing my plans at all. It wasn’t that she was bound more tightly by a contract than Marc. Shewas, quite simply, a better person than my secretary. In fact, I’d feel better if I asked her to deliver the letter to Berklay. I wouldn’t even need to include the task in a contract with Isa.
