Morgana
I’m on my knees, tears streaming down my face as sobs rack my body. I’ve never felt such despair. Not when I found out my parents were murdered. Not when I heard about the Holms family. It’s a sadness that makes my very bones ache. As it sinks into me, I’m certain I’ll never be happy again.
“Remember the wall, Ana,” Leon says to me, his hand on my shoulder.
But what does that matter now? What does anything matter in this bottomless pit I’ve fallen into?
“You can end this Ana, just use what we taught you.”
The misery engulfs me, but his words ring clearly in my ears. I’d like nothing better than to stop feeling this way. As my chest heaves, I try to recall my mental image of the wall, the sharp steel going up, cutting off this agonizing sensation.
I blink, and for a moment the sorrow is gone, and I can feel other emotions—surprise, confusion,frustration.
“What the hell was that?” I gasp.
“She did it,” Leon says. My defenses stand strong under the pressure, even though I can feel sensic magic battering the other side, like a buzzing swarm trying to get through.
“I don’t know how long I can hold it,” I say, the image weakening in my mind.
Leon waves his hand at Phaia, and the buzzing stops.
“That’syour power?” I say to Phaia, allowing Leon to help me to my feet as I wipe away the tears still shining on my cheeks. I feel tired, but otherwise normal, not at all like I was sobbing on the floor seconds ago. “It’s terrible. I mean…no offense.”
Phaia offers me a grim smile. “None taken.”
I watch her carefully, searching for some clue as to the woman’s power on her face. I know I won’t find one, but it’s hard to accept that the serene, silver-haired fae in front of me can conjure up such profound sadness. But then, I wouldn’t ever peg Damia’s power as making people laugh either—that’s terrifying in its own way.
We’ve been practicing since yesterday afternoon, letting each of the soldiers take a turn attacking me with their sensic magic. Leon’s insistence on the exercise has driven home to me exactly what I’ll be up against with Respen, so I didn’t argue when he said we’d meet early again this morning.
“I’m guessing you saved the worst for last on purpose?” I ask him.
He nods. “Phaia’s power is one of the hardest to shake,” Leon says. “There’s nothing else in our arsenal quite as instantly crippling.”
Phaia inclines her head a little, accepting the compliment.
“It has its limits, of course,” she says. “It wasn’t much use against the cleavers in Otscold. They’d have to have some humanity first.”
“Also, it’s not very subtle. My grandfather’s approach won’t be as direct as that,” says Leon. “The very nature of his power can make it hard to spot. He’ll try to redirect any paranoia you might have about him using sensic magic toward other fears.”
“Yes,” I say. “I remember from the three times you told me that yesterday.”
Tira, who’s been watching our training from an armchair in the corner, snorts.
“Maybe give Ana some benefit of the doubt,” my friend says. “After killing and resurrecting that spider, how tough of an opponent can your grandfather be?”
All the soldiers turn to her and give her a look that makes her hold her hands up.
“Alright, sorry I asked.”
“The captain doesn’t doubt you,” Alastor says to me. “It’s just that King Respen has held the throne longer than any monarch in the last two millennia. There’s a reason for that, and it hasn’t got anything to do with his charm and sense of humor.”
“It’s a good thing I’m prepared, then,” I say. “Now, how do I look?”
I step back and turn around so they can take in the dress Helia and Desme helped me pick out. It’s more formal than the day dresses I’ve been wearing, with long sleeves and a high collar. It’s made of a deep blue material, reminiscent of the senior magerobes at Vastamae. I thought it might signal that I’m someone to be treated with respect.
“Like a queen,” Stratton answers with a wink.
“Like a lamb to slaughter,” Alastor says, biting his lip.
