He chose the floor rather than the seat, kneeling in front of me as if to offer me more space. Topaz-blue eyes steadied on mine, his posture impossibly straight. The dizziness had ebbed enough for me to truly see him. His eyes reminded me of Reagan’s, but a darker blue, softened by fine lines at the corners that suggested a man who smiled often. He did so once, just then, before returning to the cool face of a soldier.
I nodded.
“Let me know if you change your mind about having anescort,” he said, the emphasis on the word directed squarely at Gwin.
My gaze dropped to where his knees pressed into the floor. “Thank you, Captain,” I said again.
Every eye in the room seemed to follow Heil as he left with Joy.
“This is your superior?” I asked Gwin, arching a brow.
“I know,” she said with a smirk. “Too polite and good-looking for his own good. Though he’s never knelt for me.”
“I expect the captain reserves that for those who outrank him,” Laerune replied mildly.
Gwin’s gaze slid to me with an unspoken question.
It was one comment too many. “Ms Xanthos, I’ve told you before, I’m only an emissary right now. I very much doubt I outrank the captain.”
Laerune remained serenely unmoved, as though it made no difference.
“Oh, come on, Red. No one in Mountheim believes that anymore.” Gwin gestured vaguely toward the Hall. “This city has eyes, especially when Reagan is involved. They saw you at the Aurora Rite. Rumours don’t need much encouragement.” Sheglanced at Laerune, then leaned closer. “So how long are you planning to make him crawl?”
My teeth ground together as I reminded myself who I was talking to. “Gwin, this was my first attempt at wielding. Does it look like it went well?”
She took a place next to me. “You just need time. And even if you never summon more than a feather, do you think Malory can send you away? What if you eventually do wield in the human lands?” Her voice lowered. “It makes no sense. So stop turning him away.”
“Do you think I should be Lady even if I cannot wield at will?” I asked.
“But you will,” Gwin went on. “I understand how annoying this may be for you. I understand all of it. But you cannot keep denying what is coming. You and he need to work together. Things are unstable enough without the two of you pulling in opposite directions.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. “And will Reagan even be allowed to bond with someone who cannot wield? How easy do you think that will be? Even if he were allowed, how much resentment do you imagine that would create?” I forced the words out slowly. “I love your brother, but he is the Lord and love alone doesn’t make me good enough. You know that.”
I leaned back, my exhaustion winning.
Gwin stayed unmoved, though her expression was less apathetic than usual. “We would help you. Both of you.” She waited until my gaze met hers. “You just discovered you are hybrid-born, and there are no laws standing in your way. You are lucky, Red. Bloody lucky.”
If only it were that simple. Even if Gwin had a point about the risk of sending me back to the human lands, I would still have to wield. It was imperative if I were ever to become Lady of Mountheim.
Nodding, I studied Gwin. I felt for her. I truly did. The distance from humans had kept Gwinifer from someone she cared for deeply. That kind of separation must have carved its own emotional wound.
“Miss Darling,” Laerune said gently from the couch across from us. “Shall we continue?”
“Yes, Ms Xanthos,” I replied, already turning away from Gwin. “Gwin was just leaving.”
With a sigh, she stood and left without another word.
Laerune reclaimed my attention. “What you experienced is normal. Other diviners have felt the same when first reaching for the Sight. Not every lesson will be so intense and eventually you’ll be able to wield at will. Make no mistake. You have access to mana. The ring has blocked it for years, and that will take time to undo. To reach your power, you must learn to trust your instincts even more than your mind.”
???
“I would hate to waste my time on someone unwilling to commit.”
Laerune Xanthos had been patient enough during the lesson. Seraphyn Evenwood was not.
The spellcraft tutor arrived precisely one hour after Joy returned with fruit and light snacks that had restored some of my strength.
Seraphyn was all lithe angles and whip-like posture, her chin held high, her expression a sculpted mask of pride. It dripped from her every word. I didn’t need the Sight to know she would keep me on edge through every lesson.
