“Ellowyn, wait.” I slowed and came to a stop, internally groaning at her timing. I could see the garden through the window. Bees flew lazily about from flower to flower and the plants swayed in a gentle breeze. I was so close to freedom, I could almost taste it.
Mistress Lautaro must have told her I was done for the day.
“I heard you’re continually losing control, Ellowyn. Still?” Mother’s voice was sharp, and I winced slightly at the accusation in her tone.
“I am trying,” I pleaded as she caught up to me. Her expression was severe and there were more lines on her face than there were even a few months ago. Ever since my Awakening, Mother became even more distant and determined. She wouldn’t tell me what caused her so much stress—gods forbid we speak about something other than etiquette and responsibilities—but I could see the effect it had on her.
“Don’t whine, Ellowyn. Admit to your mistakes.” Her voice was like a whip, and I pressed my lips into a thin line.
“I am still struggling with controlling my magic. Mistress Lautaro gaveme some focusing exercises. They are helping, albeit minutely,” I lied. The exercises weren’t helping in the slightest.
My mother’s calculating gaze swept across my face before she nodded once.
“Very well. It’s a blessing, really, that your lesson was canceled early today. Your father and I would like to speak with you briefly in his study.” Immediately my hands began to sweat, and I clasped them together to keep from fiddling.
“Yes, Mother,” I intoned, my voice devoid of emotion as we turned from the entrance to the garden and made our way back up the stairs to my father’s study. I dragged my feet slightly, the only way I knew how to rebel in my current situation.
My mother didn’t knock, simply pushed open the door. Father sat behind his desk, hand bracing his forehead as the other held a missive of some kind. He looked up as we entered, a sunny smile transforming his face.
“Daughter!” he said as he dropped the missive and stood, wrapping me in his arms in one of his signature hugs. I melted into him, breathing in his scent of leather and tobacco, instantly at ease.
“Hi, Father,” I said into his shoulder as he released me, holding me at arm’s length by my shoulders.
“How are your lessons?”
Before I could respond, my mother interjected, “She can’t retain focus long enough to even resuscitate a dying vine. Her lessons are abysmal, and her control is greatly lacking. I fear we may have to take . . . other steps to help her grow.”
My father’s hands stiffened slightly at her words, and he squeezed once before letting me go.
“That won’t be necessary, Acantha.” My father’s voice was light but carried a tinge of warning. Mother made a sound of disproval in the back of her throat before dropping the subject. At the end of the day, my father’s word was law in our house, and I was grateful for it today.
Father turned his gaze from Mother to me, his face softening as he did so.
“Today is a short meeting, Ellowyn. But still important. We received a message from Lord d’Refan. He, and a few others, will be coming back tostay for a while.” I couldn’t detect any note of reluctance in my father’s tone, but his eyes betrayed his worry.
“May I ask why?” The lessons from Mother pushing to the forefront of my mind.
“In my office, around me, Ellowyn, you may always ask whatever you wish,” he said kindly. Mother made another noise in the back of her throat but was quickly silenced by a singular look from my father.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and Father stroked my cheek softly.
“Apparently one of his acolytes learned how to perform a Bond that cures Mage Sickness.”
I reared my head back, not sure what I was expecting him to say, but Bonds and Mage Sickness were the furthest thing from my thoughts.
“What? But that’s . . . that’simpossible.”
“Apparently not. At least for Lord d’Refan’s people. They’ve started a campaign to register Vessels who would be willing to take this new Bond for Mages who are ill. Their first stop is Hestin.” His voice betrayed a note of concern.
“You’re worried,” I stated, and my mother scoffed.
“There are already people registering without us even announcing it,” she said scornfully. “Apparently there is some signing bonus attached to this campaign, and the lower class are running to it in droves.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand how this is a bad thing? If we can keep Mages from becoming sick and give our lower class a chance to feed their families, I don’t see the negative.”
“Don’t be daft, Ellowyn,” my mother spit.
“Acantha,” Father warned, and she bit her tongue, hate emanating from her in waves.
