“That’s what I thought, too. Circumstances have changed my mind.”
I opened my mouth, ready to demand an answer that actually explained anything, when I noticed for the first time that my power lay dormant. I could still hear the pure tone of the node if I concentrated, but nothing else. My eyes widened. “I can’t tell if you are lying!”
I heard no bells signaling the truth of anything he said. Unlike truth-telling, my power always remained in effect. If a person spokein my vicinity, then I sensed if they spoke the truth, a shading of the truth, or a lie. Musical bells underscored truths, klaxons identified lies, and variations in harmony showed me the shades in between. But I heard nothing under the duke’s words.
“Of course not.” The duke clearly shared my level of modesty. “My tie to the node gives me immunity to your power.”
“But the node is locked to truth-telling, not truth-reading.” I thought back over my lessons in basic history and magical theory. When within a certain distance of the node, the duke’s blood-tie essentially made him a mage with the same power as had been used to lock the node. “You should only be immune to that power.”
Technically, even then, he didn’t have true immunity. A truth-teller simply needed more power than the duke to affect him. It was the same for all mages with the same type of magic. I could only read another truth-reader if they had less power. I had never encountered anyone I couldn’t read before. But no mage had more power than a node.
“They are both truth-magics.” The duke’s voice slipped back into that lazy drawl. “Truth-telling is stronger, so my immunity makes sense.”
I crossed my arms, guessing as best I could where to direct my glare. “You cannot possibly believe that drivel that active powers are more powerful than their passive counterparts? They are two sides of the same coin—different, but equal.”
“Do you really think that knowing a storm is coming is as good as being able to divert the storm?”
“It’s the difference between being proactive and reactive.” I warmed to the argument. Reason replaced outrage. “Knowing to take shelter before a storm strikes is far better than being able to banish the rain after you’ve already been caught unaware.”
“The weather-changer can learn mundane ways of predicting the weather and still be proactive. The reader will never be able to alter the weather, though.”
I scoffed. The duke’s argument was true—except that most active-power mages shared his disdain for passive powers. “How many weather-changers will take the time to learn how to predict the weather, pay attention to the signs, and never make a mistake? The weather-reader might never be able to stop rain, but they will always know what is coming and never make a mistake. Your attitude is short-sighted at best.”
I crossed my arms, then realized we had drifted far off topic. I couldn’t even place all the blame on the duke. I huffed out a breath. “No wonder you wanted Sofia instead of me. If you really think passive powers are useless, you might as well release me and I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh no, you are going to help me break this curse.” The duke chuckled. “It should be no problem for you, since you think your power is better.”
“I never said that.”
“And I never said truth-telling is stronger.”
My jaw dropped, my arms falling to my sides. “Yes, you did!”
“Well, I didn’t mean it.”
“You didn’t . . .” My hands curled into fists. “It is no surprise somebody cursed you. I want to curse you.”
“Too bad. You are contractually obligated to help me to the best of your ability.”
I strained my eyes, but I still couldn’t spot the duke in the flickering light. He said he wasn’t disembodied, but what form had he taken? I wanted to know, but understanding my own predicament took priority. I’d allowed the duke to sweep me into a pointless debate for too long. “How does that even work? My father doesn’t have the authority to sign for me.”
“Actually, he does. While women have been granted full legal status, there is still an old law on the books detailing the hierarchy of male next of kin from before. Since you are unmarried, your father has the legal authority to sign in your name.”
“That doesn’t make sense. I am the legal master of my own life, even if that law wasn’t repealed. My autonomy supersedes any rights my father might have.”
“For practical purposes, certainly. A magistrate would rule in your favor without hesitation. But as far as the magic of the node is concerned, your father’s signature is legally binding.”
I knew several magistrates who would probably hesitate, despite the clarity of the laws. Powerful positions in Leort were filled almost entirely by hide-bound misogynists. It was why I had given up on my dream of working as an advocate. The magistrates would never let me argue cases. They’d only ever see me as a secretary who could double as a truth-detector. I had instead pursued a job with the constables.
Chief Nassan might not think that women could handle the rigors of enforcing the law, but I had Frederic and a few other of the men on my side. After years of proving myself over and over again, the balance was shifting. At least, it had been before I’d been forced to leave town without a word.
I added Duke Felix to my list of men who didn’t deserve their power. Though I was willing to admit that his issue probably wasn’t my sex. He simply had no compunction against exploiting a loophole in the law. “I think I might hate you.”
The duke chuckled. “I can respect that. Evidence suggests you aren’t the first to feel that way.”
“Ah yes, your curse. Are you ever going to explain what you meant about being mis-embodied? I promise not to scream upon seeing your cursed form.”
“I doubt a scream will be your first reaction,” he muttered.
