“You’ve suffered an ordeal tonight—”
“One of my advisors suggested Hestiel to me.” He furiously wiped his face on his sleeve. “Its vigil is in a few weeks.”
“That gloomy enchantment wand? No, your advisor doesn’t know you.”
“There’s Octorion.”
“Octorion isn’t even in the Vault yet. What about Ravfiri?Its vigil is next month, and Nellow’s is the week after. Though if Ravfiri isn’t a match, I hesitate to suggest you wait until Guinvallah—”
“Ravfiri is too powerful,” Domenic couldn’t help but blurt. “And so is Guinvallah.”
Iseul’s gaze could be surprisingly sharp for someone who so often fussed over the trivial details of his well-being. But it wasn’t her tender instincts that had earned the daughter of immigrants and the once-wife of a current director a fellow seat on the Order’s Council; it was her cunning.
“Listen to me, Dom. You are an exceptionally talented magician. Even before what you did tonight, I’ve always known that, no matter your performance in school. And Hanna and I, we love you, and we know what you’ve lived through. But it kills us to see you torturing yourself. So please, help me understand. Why do you still deny your potential?”
“I’m just afraid, all right?” he snapped. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But even if I did want a powerful wand—”
“Do you?” she asked quietly.
“I… Of course I do.” The confession hurt, like prying a thorn out of his heart. “I’ve always known I was special, even when I was a kid. And I used to be really proud of it. I used to think that, one day, I was going to be someone extraordinary.”
Truthfully, Domenic hadn’t just thought it; he’dknownit, even before he’d developed magic. He’d known it with a deep-down certainty that had never truly disappeared after what had happened, only festered.
“You still could be extraordinary,” Iseul murmured.
“No, Ican’t,” he hissed, his voice scraped raw. “Because whenever I look at a powerful wand, all I see is… is…”
“Syarthis.”
Domenic suppressed a shudder. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. He owed Hanna so much; even a nod would’ve felt like a betrayal.
Instead, he shoved his hand into his pocket and withdrew the withered dandelions he’d picked that morning from the Gallamere Gardens, their spores fallen and smooshed—countless wishes wasted. He fiddled with their stems anyway, not looking at Iseul.
“What if I’m not ready for a Living Wand?” he whispered.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could give you more time. But the truth is, you might never feel ready. And Winter’s cataclysm will come whether we’re ready for it or not.”
She was right. And Domenic had always known his fixation on Octorion was illogical—of course he had. But he hadn’t been prepared for how abruptly his future would shift, how suddenly such weighty decisions would be thrust upon him.
Iseul patted his back. “It’s late. You should try to rest.” She stood and walked toward the foyer. Obediently, Calynia’s enchantments readied for her departure: her heels drifted off the rack, her keys soared into her pocket, and one of the umbrellas prodded her side—there was a chance of rain.
“What? You’re leaving already?”
“I only came to check on you, and unfortunately, I have to get back to the Citadel. Will you be all right if I go? Calynia and I will leave the enchantments running.”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Again, Iseul scrutinized him, her hand perched on the doorknob. “I know what happened tonight is the last thing you wanted, but I’m proud of you. I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”
“I am,” Domenic said, for her sake. And as Iseul smiled sadly and left, he tried hard to summon it, pride. But like every other piece of himself he couldn’t carry that day, it was lost, and no amount of wishing would bring it back.
VIELLERY
SUMMER
The night after Ellery fought the winterghast, she dreamed of a memory.
An alban tree.
