His breath ghosted against my ear. I didn’t turn, nor did I recoil. He liked to toy with people, or perhaps just with humans. He certainly seemed to have an opinion about us.
“It truly doesn’t matter to me,” I said.
Silence. The hard surface beneath our hands rippled, the way a tiny stone would break the stillness of water. Gentle waves flowed outward, grazing my palm, analysing it. A soft glow traced Reagan’s knuckles, following the lines in his veins and spilling into mine.
“It’s done. Now it recognises you and will let you in,” he said, removing his hand and stepping away.
“Don’t I need powers like yours to summon the door?” I asked.
“You don’t need it. The Hall does that for you.” Reagan sighed. “I need to go.”
I turned to him, feeling a certain urge to pry. “Problem?”
He arched a brow, glancing at me over his shoulder as he stepped toward the exit. “No, everything’s perfect,” he said, too lightly. As the door swung open, the clatter of shoes and murmured chatter drifted in. “Cerridwen and I have some planning to do for the Rite.”
“What is this Rite?”
“The Aurora Rite. It’s a celebration in Mountheim where we return mana to nature. Many of my people come to the Hall. There’s music, food, some blissful ale, and a traditional ritual.”
“Return what?”
He laughed through his nose. “Mana is the power source for the mageborn. It’s what lets us cast charms. It’s how we can fling and how we can enchant a long list of things.” He gestured with his chin to the wall, as if referencing what he’d just done. “We have to replenish it from time to time because it is a limited resource that comes from nature. The Rite is a celebration for the source, where we honour it and give back some of our energy so we can continue to draw it in the future.”
“A limited source. Is that why you looked so tired after that day...with the Strzygas?”
“Yes,” he said glumly. “Unfortunately, wielding lightning takes too much out of me now.”
Now that he’s weaker because of the sentence.
I made a thoughtful hum. “And how do you get your mana back?”
“It replenishes as we rest. It’s the most common way.” Reagan’s eyes narrowed as he looked me over. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. “You seem very curious about this topic. It’s...entrancing, but it makes me wonder.”
Shouldn’t I be asking questions?He didn’t seem angry, but there was something there.
“I’m a curious person,” I said, echoing what he’d said to me once. “This celebration. Am I invited to it?”
Reagan paused, then gave a small shrug. “Why not?”
???
“I don’t understand how it works.”
I stood by the dining-room window, watching Finnegan lean over what looked like a map of the country. The emissary had barely finished his breakfast when I pressed him for answers.
“The hidden study?” he asked, glancing up at me without removing his hands from the map.
“How can the castle summon the study for me? How can a room even vanish?”
“The Hall is imbued with power drawn from many people,” Finn explained. “Reagan’s, Cerridwen’s, mine. Glamouring a room is no different from charming a relic.”
“A relic?” I repeated, my eyebrow lifting.
He straightened from the table to face me, a faint twitch ghosting along his lips. “I forget you are new to all of this. A relic is an artefact that stores its own power. We wear them like ordinary accessories. Anyone can use one, even someone who cannot draw from a source. The Hall works in much the same way.”
I paced around the wooden table, slow and thoughtful. “What do people do with them?”
“Many things. Warding people and places, tracking, protection, portals.”
