“It’s my place to help.” Her glare hardens, and although she reminds me of Letia physically, there is no levity in her tone.
No smile on her face.
Her expression is cold and empty.
I step into the bathing chamber when she refuses to leave and slip out of my blood-stained cloak first. “I’m Elorie.”
“Isolde.” She snatches my cloak from the floor, grabbing each item of clothing as I discard it.
Dirt makes a mess of the moon-white stone as I strip myself bare, and when I dip my first foot into the water, black soot swirls on the surface. It’s been days since I’ve bathed. Possibly longer, but I’ve lost track of time.
I sink into the tub, brushing aside the lavender tickling my neck.
After Isolde discards my clothes in a bin, she walks over to me and places a hand on the surface of the water again. Her eyes glow, and slowly the temperature warms a little more. It starts to swirl, pulling the dirt in the water to an invisible drain, until it clears.
“What kind of magic is that? Are you a water wielder?”
“I do not wield anything.” Isolde pulls her hand out of the water, wiping it on a rag. “My affinity is to nature.”
I’m not as familiar with affinities as I am with wielding magic.Wielders are the ones the Guard tell stories about. Their abilities change the tide in battles—in wars. Wielders alter elements and nature in grand displays. While Fae with affinities have much more subtle magic.
Some can speak with animals, passing secrets through the forest. Others are in tune with plants, creating tonics that can heal or harm. Affinity magic is quieter, but just as important.
“What does it mean to have a nature affinity?”
Isolde’s expression is blank as she dries a splash of water off the floor. “You’re very curious.”
Father often chided me for my curiosity, saying it was bound to get me into trouble. But in this place filled with magic and new possibilities, I can’t help trying to understand it.
“I’ve never been around magic before. The Fae on Alyssium couldn’t wield theirs, so all we had were stories. Hearing about it isn’t the same as seeing it.”
She wipes her hands again, pausing so long I think she might not answer me. Her gaze follows mine to the star-flecked mask that covers the glass, and I can’t read what she’s thinking. When she finally turns to me again, her eyes are cold, but her frown has softened.
Finally, she relaxes her shoulders. “Affinities amplify what already exists in small measures. In my case, I amplify natural elements. The aroma of a flower, the warmth of a stone in the sun. The potency of a venomous sprig.”
“That’s how you drew the heat out in the water?” She nods. “And the scent of lavender.”
“Among other things.” Isolde stands, walking to a table at the edge of the chamber to retrieve a bottle. “This will help with cleaning. And that… smell.”
Her nose wrinkles, offering the strongest reaction she’s shown to anything since I stepped into the room.
She pours the tonic into the water. “I’ll get your clothes ready.”
Tipping my head back, I relax in the bath’s warmth, knowing I need to finish cleaning myself to get ready for tonight. But the thought of stepping out of this bath and facing what lies ahead is heavy. I’m not prepared. How can I be, when I’ve barely had time to process everything?
I close my eyes, but there’s no relief in the darkness.
Only nightmares.
Memories.
I see Father’s hand, reaching for me in the street. If I’d have known the night we sat down for dinner was the last one we’d share, I might have said more. I might have told him I loved him before he went to bed. I might have taken him up on his offer of tea before I left for the market that morning.
A hole widens in my chest, and even when I press my palm to my ribs, the ache doesn’t ease.
Who carried out Father’s blessings?
Did they remember all four gods?
