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“I think he has good in him, Mom,” I agreed. “I think he was Falx’s puppet for a very long time, but I think there is good in him.” I considered his behavior on the craft, how cold and sullen and hostile he had been. “It’s just hidden very far away at times.”
Mom hummed as her only reply.
A servant summoned us for a light lunch. Erol wouldn’t join us, because he had business to attend to. A part of me was disappointed, but another part was relieved. I struggled when I was around him, not knowing what I felt. Being back in the castle was also challenging, and taking things one step at a time was easier.
“Are you sure you don’t want to rest first, Mom?” I asked while we ate.
She shook her head. “No. We’re here for a reason, and we’re going to get going as soon as we can.”
“It might be a good idea just to rest and adjust to the new atmosphere,” Zita said, breaking off a piece of bread and popping it into her mouth. “The Conjurite magic is everywhere. It dances around us in dark whispers and crawls on my skin like insects.” She rubbed her arms and shivered to drive her point home.
“You haven’t lived in the midst of the power,” Mom pointed out. “Hazel and I are used to what this feels like, and it won’t affect us.”
Zita would grow accustomed to it in due time, but she didn’t have to do anything other than keep us safe.
We would begin to heal Conjurites directly after lunch. We would start with the servants in the castle. Erol had sent most of them away—we could only heal so many at a time—but we couldn’t do without servants at all, and after making sure they knew what was at stake, and if they wanted this at all, we’d decided to start with them.
After lunch, a servant took us to a private sitting room. It was just as comfortably arranged as our rooms were, and I wondered if Erol had gone through the trouble to create more living spaces like this for us, or if this had been here all along.
Ellie had been in the castle a couple of times when we’d been prisoners here, but I’d never been out of the dungeons and didn’t know how anything had changed since Falx had been defeated.
Mom and I made ourselves comfortable on the couches, while Zita showed in the first Conjurite servant.
She was a small female, and her dark eyes were wide with fear.
“Come in,” Mom said gently, smiling at the female. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable.”
The woman sat down, but she perched on the edge of the seat, and she didn’t look comfortable at all. She looked like she would get up and run at any moment. Her ears were sharp, her black hair had streaks of gray in it, and she looked like she’d been through a long life, but her skin was smooth and blemish free, and she moved with a fluid grace.
Mom went through the process of getting to know her a little. She asked her name—Evanore—and how she’d come to work at the castle, how many children she had, and other questions like that to try to put her at ease. It didn’t seem to help, so eventually, my mom got to the point.
“You know why we’re here,” she said.
Evanore nodded. “To get rid of the Conjurite magic.”
“Right. Is that what you want? You do understand what the risks are?”
Evanore nodded again. “I do. I’ve lived in this darkness for so long, and I feel like I’ve been blindfolded my whole life. I don’t see the beauty around me anymore, I don’t feel the joy of small things…” Her eyes welled with tears. “Once upon a time, beautiful things used to matter to me. They don’t anymore. I shouldn’t care about it, because the power I got in return is enough to keep my family safe, but I miss the person I used to be. I miss being able to love my family with the same passion I used to have. It was a mistake choosing the darkness. King Falx made it seem like such a good thing, and…” A sob racked her chest. “It’s been six hundred years since I last saw the light. If I have to choose between this and death…I’m willing to risk it if it means I have a chance at starting over.”
She closed her eyes, and her brows knitted together as if she was in distress, searching for something lost to her forever.
She was more than six hundred years old. I shuddered at the thought of living submerged in darkness for that long.
“Give me your hands,” Mom said.
Evanore hesitated.
“It’s okay,” Mom urged. “You’re not alone.”
Evanore took her hands. The Conjurite magic in her rebelled, and the room filled with darkness, swirling in the corners like fog. My stomach twisted and curled with fear, and my throat closed.
It wasn’t my fear. I pushed it away, reminding myself—and the fear—that it had nothing to do with me.
I watched as Mom’s appearance changed. Her hair became like spun gold, and her skin glowed softly, as if she was illuminated from within. She closed her eyes.
“Evanore,” she said. “You chose the darkness, relinquishing the light. Terra is right here, asking you to choose her again. If you want it, the light is yours. You just have to reach out and take it.”
Evanore’s face crumpled. “I can’t,” she sobbed
