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“Yes. Thank you. They’re really helpful.”
“Good,” he says. “How are you settling in?”
“Oh, not too bad. Laila is helping me feel welcome.” I look over at Laila, who is glaring into space.
Damien almost winces when he regards Laila. “Good. Very good.” He moves on, clearly not wanting to linger.
I do not like that man, Cyrus says.
I’m starting to think you don’t like any man who speaks to me.
No, perhaps not.
Why is that?
There’s no answer. I tap the table, wishing he’d say something. In my mind, we have this deep connection, like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend but even more than that somehow. Like we’re soulmates. But I don’t know how Cyrus feels, and I don’t know if it only exists because of our blood link.
I wish I could walk around at your side, he says.I wish I could live in the world with you, speak to the people you speak with, and go to your lessons. I wish I had been born into your generation without the weight of my family’s actions hanging over me.
Me too,I say, a melancholic cloud hanging over my head.
“What’s with the glum face?” Laila asks. “That’s my thing.”
“Sorry.” I shake my head. “I’m feeling pretty spent after that necromancy class.”
Laila raises her eyebrows. “It was unusual. We don’t get many necromancers. You saw them at Jenny’s memorial.”
I nod. I now remember Morrigan being one of the four people who placed their hands on the soil. “So Morrigan was one, and there were three others. Are they students?”
Laila shrugs. “I don’t know them. But I think so. As far as I know, we only have one necromancy teacher. It’s a rare aptitude. There used to be more, but your family turned their backs on magic, and… Well, your Belvedere line was keeping the skill going, so once your family stopped practicing it…”
“It started to die out?”
She nods.
“Oh. Is that one of the reasons why so many people seem mad at my family?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Why didn’t someone tell me?”
Laila pulls at her sleeve. “You’re new to this world. I assume people didn’t want to overwhelm you. Plus, we weren’t sure you’d actually have the aptitude for necromancy. Once magic has been diluted, it tends to…” She flutters her fingers in the air. “Evolve. So you could have been anything.”
But I’m not. I am the same kind of magic wielder as my long-dead ancestor, Alaric. There has to be a reason for that.
“So,” I begin, “my family used to be the royal family in the necromancy circle. And the head of the family takes their place on the council. But if no one from my family has taken that place, who is the current council member?”
“Morrigan,” Laila says. “Unless you take it from her. I guess you could do that.”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure I want to take anything from Morrigan.” I think of those red talons and flinch. “Is she… Is she friendly?”
Laila laughs for the very first time. It’s startling, like watching a hyena tip their head back and let out a high-pitched cackle. I actually lean back away from her, like I just got hit in the face with a strong breeze.
The laughing stops almost as quickly as it started, and she fixes me with her usual deadpan expression. “No.”
“Great,” I mumble.
Still, I’ve coped with Laila’s terse welcome, so maybe I can cope with Morrigan.
