I snorted. Not bad was such an understatement. I loved the spire room where I studiedTheory of All Magicsand any other books Ipulled from the library. The enchantments on the castle intrigued rather than unnerved me. Even as frustrated as I was with my non-existent progress, I enjoyed the mystery of trying to break the curse.
Nor did I miss being in Leort. I got along well with Frederic and a few of the other constables, but I didn’t miss them. Apart from my sister, I didn’t really miss anyone—and to be honest, I hadn’t been seeing much of her lately, anyway. It had already started to feel like we were living unconnected lives before I came to Truthhold.
The problem then was that eventually I had to return to my normal life. My extended stay at Rose Castle would make things much harder when that time came. Assuming we ever broke the curse and I could return home.
As if my thoughts of the curse were a signal, the node power rubbed against me. It wasn’t uncomfortable yet, a slight vibration only, but it made me aware of all the ideas I had to follow up on. I needed to read more Demeret. I needed to hunt through the archives. And I needed to figure out what it was that had slipped through my mind as I woke up.
I started with Demeret, making my way to the library spire room rather than summoning the book to me. I called in a simple breakfast of fruit and bread and ate while I read. The book was just as unorganized as I remembered, but also fascinating.
Reading through a chapter I thought was intended to focus on the making of charms, I resorted to summoning a blank journal to keep notes. I didn’t think anything would help me break the curse, but I had countless ideas of experiments to try with my power once I had the chance.
Starting the next chapter, I almost missed the importance of one section about the possibility of mages with different powers linking their magic. Such a link hadn’t been recorded even three hundred years after Demeret wrote the book. Reading his theories, I understood why.
Demeret posited that two mages with separate powers could never link because the very act of a mage pulling on raw magicshaped it. Once shaped, a mage with a different power no longer had access to the magic. It was the same basic principle as a blood-lock on a node, except a mage did more than shape the power in that case. They also tied it to their bloodline.
A blood-lock shaped the power. That was what I had needed to remember.
The night before, I had accepted Felix’s conclusion that the node was no longer locked. The Truths still worked in the castle because those spells were independent of the lock, though they pulled power from the node. But I had felt the node power the instant I first walked into the great hall. The ley lines feeding it were raw magic, but the node sang to me in the tones of truth magic.
I shoved my bookmark between the pages ofA Theory of All Magicsand raced down the stairs to the ground level. I ran to the great hall. My feet slid on the polished marble floor, and I had to catch myself on the rim of the brazier. Still gripping the surprisingly cool copper, I closed my eyes and listened to the power contained within the flames.
Truth magic.
The blood-lock the first duke had placed on the node was still there.
All right, so the lock still existed, but perhaps it had weakened. I had used the power of the node when I ran my experiments, hadn’t I? It hadn’t been my power reading the truth of the scraps of paper I held to the flames. If I could use the node for that, then I should be able to pull the power on purpose. The only time I had ever drawn power from outside of myself was when I had added ambient magic to a charm to make it stronger, so I’d start there.
I considered what objects might be hidden in the corners of Rose Castle, and tried to summon a suitable vessel for a truth-reading charm. It took a few tries, but I ended up holding a metal drawer pull that would work. It wasn’t the octahedron that worked best for my power, but it was nearly a sphere, which was a good second choice. The silver knob would serve me well enough.
I hummed. My power always poured out at the same pitch. The node magic was slightly lower, though not quite as low as my twin’s. I kept my hum at the pitch I had always used, focused on the silver in my hand, and tried to pull the node magic into the knob. I didn’t expect it to work. As Demeret had said, the node power was already shaped. I wouldn’t be able to use it for a truth-reading charm even if I could bypass the lock. But I needed to get a feel for the power first.
What I didn’t expect was for my power to slide right past the node and latch onto the nearest ley line. I hummed louder, trying to tame the torrent of power. I wrestled it through myself and into the knob. Hearing the faint click of the magic settling into the correct pattern, I cut off my hum in an instant.
I let out a shaky breath. That could have been a disaster. Ley lines did not like to be shaped. The power running through them moved too quickly. If nodes were pools of magic, then ley lines were rivers. No, white water rapids. With hidden whirlpools.
Every mage heard the horror stories of what could happen when experimenting with ley line power. If the mage couldn’t control the magic, then it could burn right through them. Depending on the strength of the ley line, that might result in anything from a loss of their power to death.
I slid the knob into my pocket and leaned against the copper bowl containing the node. I had a bit of a headache, but nothing worse. However, I hadn’t even started my main experiment, and it would be more dangerous than I had anticipated.
The contract binding me wouldn’t let me walk away now without trying what I had come here to do. It didn’t care about my safety. But I did. I needed to limit the risks.
I started by summoning a glass marble. Why there was one floating around Rose Castle, I didn’t know, but I was grateful. A glass sphere of any sort was a safe choice for creating a charm with active-powers. Whereas my power adhered best to metal—with stone as amakeshift substitute—the node’s power should work best with jewels or glass. I didn’t plan to pull the power through myself, but directly from the node into the marble.
With any luck, the alignment between the power and the marble would prevent me from accidentally channeling ley line magic again.
I studied the flow of power in the room, trying to position myself as far from a ley line as possible. The problem was that more than a dozen ley lines converged here. I couldn’t get away from them if I wanted to stay close to my target. Still, I circled the brazier until I found the spot with the quietest buzz of raw magic. Then I reached into the flames with the marble between my fingers.
I hummed, matching the pitch of the node, trying to push the power into the glass. Nothing happened. I pulled. My hum went sharp, and I latched onto the ley line. I cut off my power, falling silent once more. After a deep breath, I tried again.
The same thing happened, except this time, I felt my power skid across the power of the node. I couldn’t make contact. An invisible wall separated me from the wellspring of magic. I tried once more, this time analyzing how my power echoed back from the node. Even at the points where the ley lines fed into the flames, I came up against a barrier.
The node was locked.
???
At noon, Imade my way to the dining room, ready to share my discovery with Felix. Half an hour later, I admitted he wasn’t coming and summoned my own meal. I devoured a bowl of beef stew—it was tasty enough that I wouldn’t mind having it for every meal—and made my way back to the great hall.
The node power itched, not liking that I had wasted so much time waiting for Felix, though it hadn’t contracted enough to make me think I wasn’t fulfilling the terms of the contract. Since I didn’t knowwhere the duke was, I ran another experiment. I wanted to have answers for all his questions when I informed him the node was still locked.
