A furtive glance around confirmed that we were alone. “You know my mother is better with locks than I am.” I pulled the pin from my hair.
“Yeah, because she cheats.” Amahle crossed her arms. “I don’t know how Ibarra hasn’t taken over all of Lirien. Spellcraft seems like the most useful divine gift when it comes to ruling.”
I inserted the pin into the lock, peering closer. The lock was so large that my pin nearly vanished inside it, my fingers barely able to grasp the metal. “True, but the spellcraft that would be useful to the power-hungry is forbidden. Dark magic destroys the soul.”
“Halt. What are you doing?” a deep voice snapped behind us.
I stiffened, my heart kicking. Glancing over my shoulder, I met the angry glare of a silver-clad guard striding toward us. I tucked my pin into my palm, straightening. “Are you attempting to enter the sewers?”
“Uh—no, I was just?—”
“The sewers are strictly off limits.” The guard jutted his chin at us. “Your name, rank, and tribe.”
Curpiss.
Getting arrested for this wouldn’t do me any favors.
Slipping my pin into my bracer, I pulled a pinch of spell powder from my satchel, extended my hand, palm up, whispered a sleeping spell. Blowing gently, I sent the powder toward the guard.
The air shimmered faintly, then dissipated, as if swallowed by an invisible force. My hands tingled again, stronger this time, a cold numbness crawling up my wrists.
Nothing.
Why wasn’t it working?
What in Solric’s name?
The guard’s eyes narrowed and he sneered, towering over us both. “Did you just try to put a spell on me?”
My tongue seemed frozen by the sheer shock that my spell hadn’t worked. What had gone wrong? I just made this so much worse.
Amahle jumped in. “Is this the sewer?” Amahle made a face. “Oh gods, thanks for letting us know. We were?—”
“Name. Rank. Tribe. Now.”
The guard’s voice dripped with hostility.
Before either of us could respond, footsteps echoed from the sewer. A violet glow flared from the dark and surrounded the guard. He swayed, then collapsed, his head hitting the ground with a sickening thump.
My mother stepped from the shadows, her hands on the bars.
Thank the gods.
She gave us a sharp look, then waved the gate open. “What are you doing here?” she asked, kneeling beside the unconscious guard. Violet light shimmered from her hands as she pressed her palm to his forehead.
“I—” My mother rarely displayed her powers at home, and never like this. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here? I was trying to find you and then?—”
“We followed you,” Amahle admitted, chagrin on her face.
Mother stood, her lips set to a line. After a moment, she waved us forward, drawing us away from the guard and the sewer.
“What about the guard?” I glanced back as we hurried down the alley.
“I erased his memories. He’ll wake thinking he slipped near the fountain and hit his head.” Mother didn’t glance back at me, but irritation threaded her voice. “You never should have let her follow me, Amahle. I told you to watch over her. To keep her out of trouble.”
My jaw dropped. She had Amahle spying on me?
Amahle cringed but shot me an apologetic look. “I didn’t know there was any harm in following you,” she told my mother.
