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CHAPTER 44
I walk outside to meet my uncle—my moonparent, as Athene said he was named. Gallian children have sunmothers and sunfathers who perform the roles of guides in spiritual matters, as well as guardians should something happen to their parents. Moonparent must be the Selenae equivalent.
With that responsibility, it would have been Gregor’s decision to leave me with Mother Agnes. In which case, I’ve made a decision of my own.
“My name is Catrin,” I tell him before he can say anything. “You gave up the right to call me by a Selenae name when you put me in the Hadrian world.”
Gregor raises his eyebrows. “It was my foolish brother and his Hadrian wife who named you Katarene.”
“Then they may call me that when I see them Beyond the Sun,” I say. “You may not. If Catrin is distasteful, you can call me Cat.”
My uncle shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but there’s a glimmer of hurt in his eyes. “As you wish, little Cat.”
At least it’s not Kitten.
He steps out into the street and a patch of moonlight. Thesight of it fills me with the desire to feel it on my own skin, a hunger as strong as I imagine an addict has forskonia.
The analogy makes me pause. Gregor had said something similar to the architect. At the time, I’d thought he was referring to Perrete’s murder and the killer’s lust for blood. Now I realize the entire conversation had been about me and my taste of magick, and how the craving was something all Selenae had to master.
That is why we willingly keep to the Quarter at night—for our protection as much as for that of others.
Would my using magick somehow threaten Magister Thomas and Remi and Mistress la Fontaine? Had I already endangered Marguerite? Simon?
“Come along then.” Gregor moves away.
I swallow my unease and trail behind him through the winding streets. Every time the moon peeks from between rooftops, I’m showered with sounds and scents from all directions.
We see a few people going about their business, and to my surprise, the clothes they wear look completely different in the moonlight. What appears as monochromatic blue-black during the day is now many shades of indigo and violet with elaborate embroidery flowing down sleeves and around collars. The most common designs are moonflowers and phases of the moon.
“Not as plain as you pretend to be,” I murmur.
Gregor smiles over his shoulder. “The truth is we have nothing against finery, it’s just that when you can see as well as we do, a little goes a long way.”
I eye his moonweave cloak, apparently invisible to Hadrians. “Do Selenae come out of the Quarter at night more than everyone believes?”
“Yes, though it’s still rare. When we are, we’re never seen, except by each other.”
I frown. “That’s not true. Oudin Montcuir saw you watching me on the Sanctum.”
Gregor raises his eyebrows, but not in surprise. “That’s because the provost’s son had taken a large amount ofskoniathat night.”
“So?”
“So moonflowers bloom under the moon, absorbing the same magick we carry in our blood.” He tilts his head as though waiting for me to understand, which I don’t. “Skoniaenhances the senses to the level we have by nature. Hadrians simply cannot handle it.”
“And if I took it?”
Gregor’s mouth twitches. “You’d begin to hallucinate as they do.”
“But Selenae make the drug.”
“Yes. Aside from healing, it’s our primary source of income.”
His casual admission turns my stomach. “Doesn’t that strike you as wrong?”
“To profit from Hadrian weakness? Not really.”
Ifskoniagives Hadrians the same senses as Selenae—though they’re unable to process them—then the euphoria it also creates must be like what moonlight gives me. Apparently, comparing magick to a drug addiction is accurate.
