Joy sat on the edge of the bed, untying her boots when I emerged from the washroom, my muscles still wound tight from the burn of Seraphyn’s siphoning.
She had only just returned from her own session. Elaith had been taking her out into the open air to train, always choosing somewhere empty where there was no risk of hitting anyone. A faint flush coloured her cheeks; whether from exertion or the cold air outside, I couldn’t tell.
“How was it?” I asked, crossing to the wardrobe and selecting leather trousers and a thick black sweater.
“Same as the other days,” she said evenly. “Some exercises are becoming easier to control.”
I hummed and laid my clothes across the bed. “It’s good that you’re making progress with Elaith.”
Joy didn’t reply. She tugged her long-sleeved shirt over her head, then hesitated. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
Her braid had loosened during the lesson, strands slipping free around her face. Her breathing was slightly uneven, as though her body still rode the stream in her veins.
“What is it?” I pressed, more gently this time.
“What about our house?” she asked at last. “And if Father doesn’t wake up, what happens then? I saw your tutor leaving. You still didn’t wield, did you?” Her words gathered speed, stacking one upon the next. “What happens if you can’t? That judge will send you back. You and I will be separated, and we will lose everything and you—”
“Joy,” I interrupted quietly. “We don’t know what is going to happen yet. There is still time. Father could wake any day. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to suffer by the thought of every gods-awful option before any of them happen.”
Her head bowed. “I have been thinking,” Joy said, bending to pull off her boots. “The exams. The Healer gives us that sanguinite to help channel power into our bodies. If you can’t access yours easily yet, why not carry one with you all the time? Maybe it would help.”
I hummed, unsure whether it was the soundness of the idea that caught me off guard or the fact that it had come from her. Anything that helped me tap my power would root us in Mountheim. That she was the one proposing it said more than I expected.
“It’s a good idea,” I said honestly.
It was possible that she had begun to accept that, whatever became of Father or me, she would need to remain here. Perhaps the time with her tutor and the brief visits to the city when I took her to the Wandering Cup to try a frostberry tart had opened her eyes to the reality of her situation.
Or, somewhere along the way, she’d begun to picture herself here.
“We can ask Hildegard,” I said. “But can you hurry now? I’m starving.”
She lingered for a moment, then the washroom door closed behind her.
My stomach felt hollow, though hunger was only part of it.
I traced the faint sentence mark along my forearm, shaped like Mountheim. Less than four months remained before it ended.
Time was slipping through my fingers. I had done little more than stumble into visions that trapped me in a hidden plane of silver threads and falling petals, no closer to finding anything that might help us secure proof for Reagan’s curse. Spellcraft had been even worse.
Between the long hours with tutors and the toll of sleepless nights, I’d withdrawn from the staff and the duties I was supposed to have as emissary. Father remained in the infirmary, unchanged, with no sign he would wake.
Acid burned the back of my throat at the thought.
Joy returned, and I forced myself to swallow. Freshly bathed and dressed in black leggings and a crimson sweater, she fell into step beside me as we made our way to the dining room.
It was the one time of day we were all present.
The sight of dark chestnut hair at the far end of the table sent a pulse of relief through me. Reagan had been absent the past two evenings, away with Finn on liaison in Erisea.
We took our seats, eyeing the steaming pots of noodles and vegetables laid out before us.
Only after I sat, only after my knee brushed his beneath the table, did he seem to register my presence. His throat worked once, and he offered the briefest glance before returning to his plate.
Gwinifer leaned forward. “How is it becoming all mighty and powerful?”
To my surprise, Joy answered first. “If I was mighty and powerful, I believe I would feel more in control than I do.”
