‘I can,’ I tell her. ‘I can see you right now, clear as anything. In fact, all my senses have been heightened.’
She leans closer. ‘What else can you do?’
‘Mine seems to be a defensive gift,’ I explain. ‘It’s like my shadows anticipate danger. They hide me. Protect me.’
I tell her about becoming a spy, the discovery that my sister might still be alive in either Thaven or Vost, and aboutoverhearing the Eyes who plotted with King Balen. When I get to the part about Caius Castellion, she splutters in disbelief.
‘You’re telling me the man who started the war that drained the Magi of their magicknowsyou’re a Mage andhasn’ttried to kill you?’
‘Well, I’m still breathing,’ I point out. ‘The strangest thing is, he didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised. It was like he already knew.’
‘Did he tell you how?’
I sigh. ‘No, he just spoke in riddles, then recited the plot ofThe Tragedy of Emmeric and Irabella. I think he may be senile.’
Ingra snorts. ‘Youthink?’ she says, before grudgingly accepting the plum I press into her hand and taking a huge bite.
‘He spoke about Blaze Harglade, too.’
‘The Storm Weaver? What’s she got to do with any of this?’
‘Everything, apparently,’ I say, raising an eyebrow.
‘And neither she nor the Earth Cleaver told youwhyyour magic was returned?’
I shake my head. Despite the growing web of mysteries that ensnare me, it’s this that proves the most bewildering.
‘Do you …’ Ingra begins tentatively. ‘Do you think it’s just you? Or that others might be able … I mean, is there a chance thatIcould …’
The dungeon is as black as night, yet her dark eyes seem to glimmer with hope. I think of the Veridian Desert Magi – those with the ability to conjure sandstorms, create mirages,control minds and plant dreams. Not for the first time I consider what it would mean for Ingra if she too were able to reclaim the gifts of her ancestors.
And what of the other serfs, and everyone back home in the Otherlands? If our people were to become Magi once more … it would changeeverything. We would no longer be defenceless. We would bepowerful. A force to be reckoned with.
I had thought I was an anomaly – an unexplained glitch. But then I think of the boy sitting just a few cells away.Hehas power. I could sense it, with or without those crystal shackles.
What if the old magic never died? What if all we have to do isreclaimit?
If I could only get some answers; if I could only find out why – and how – I came to be a Mage, then perhaps there’s hope for the others too.
Still, I won’t make Ingra false promises.
‘I … don’t know,’ I answer slowly.
Her face falls.
‘But I’ll do whatever I can to find out,’ I hurry on. ‘I swear it.’
‘Good,’ she says, nodding. ‘That’s good. Although it’ll be too late for me.’
I bite the inside of my cheek. ‘Don’t say that.’
Ingra scoffs. ‘What? You think they’ll let me out of here with a slap on the wrist? Come on, Elva. We both know how this ends.’
‘No,’ I insist fiercely. ‘No, I’m going to fix this. I’ll speak to Hal and –’
I know immediately that this was the wrong thing to say.
‘Yes, do that,’ Ingra hisses. ‘Speak to your preciousHaland tell him that I will face death happily, knowing that he won’t be far behind me. He looks half-dead already.’
