Rosavyn hesitated, glancing at Iris with concern, but clearly she was not willing to argue with her grandmother. With a brief nod, Rosavyn turned and slipped out the door—which conveniently closed itself—leaving Iris alone with Lady Rivenna.
The older woman moved to one of the tables and settled into a chair. “Sit,” she said, gesturing to the chair opposite her.
Iris obeyed, her hands twisting the pair of gloves in her lap. “I apologize for coming here at so late an hour. I simply needed?—”
“Tell me what happened,” Lady Rivenna interrupted, her tone leaving no room for evasion.
Iris swallowed, then began. “The Brightcrest sisters cornered me in the maze. They said … cruel things. About my bloodline, about how I don’t belong here. And then Lord Jasvian appeared and?—”
Lady Rivenna held up a hand. “No, child. Not that. Tell me what happened with your magic. Have you been experiencing something unusual? Something you cannot explain?”
Iris stared at her, momentarily speechless. “How did you?—”
“I happen to be closely acquainted with one who can sense the building of volatile magic. He was almost certain, this evening, that the feeling originated with you.”
Iris blinked. “Do you mean?—”
“Was it you, Lady Iris?”
A shaky breath escaped Iris. “Yes. I believe so. It first happened at the pegasus races. No, wait …” She frowned, casting her thoughts further back. “I believe it may have happened the first day I began my apprenticeship here, while you were showing me through the kitchen. But it was so brief, I dismissed it. It was far more overwhelming at the races, but after it passed, I was distracted by other things, and I didn’t think of it again.”
“And tonight?” Lady Rivenna prompted. “What exactly happened?”
“It’s as though I see multiple scenes unfolding—quite literallyunfoldingas if the scene were a picture on a page—before my very eyes. It happens quickly. Multiple versions of a scene unfolding all at once, almost layered atop each other. It becomes quite overwhelming. Tonight I saw different people, different wallpaper patterns, even the same person wearing different clothing, all occupying the same space.”
Iris expected surprise, perhaps even concern, but Rivenna merely nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I suspected from the first time we met, Lady Iris, that there was more to your magic than paper folding. You spoke about the paper itself already knowing all the possible creases it might fold along and all the possible configurations it might take, and you would simply choose which one your magic would follow. In truth, I suspect your magic has very little to do with paper at all, except that was the first way your ability chose to reveal itself.”
Iris frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Our conversation at the Opening Ball stirred something in my memory. I’ve read of an ability similar to yours, though I’ve not met anyone whose manifestation matches its description until now. I believe your magic allows you to perceive the underlying patterns in reality. Just as you can see how paper wishes to fold, you are beginning to see how reality itself might fold in different directions. You glimpse the patterns of what might be—the potential paths or outcomes that exist simultaneously before a choice is made.”
Iris shook her head, struggling to comprehend. “But that sounds like … seeing the future?”
“Not precisely. You do not see what will be, but rather whatcouldbe. The realm of possibility rather than certainty.” Rivenna’s eyes gleamed in the faelight. “Think of it as seeingwhere the creases in reality lie, just as you intuitively understand where paper wishes to fold. Tell me, what happened the first time your magic manifested?”
Iris’s hands tightened around the pair of loose gloves in her lap. She hadn’t spoken of it—not really. Not beyond the necessary explanations to her grandparents and the vague references when someone asked about her manifestation. The memory of that day still made her skin crawl. “I was browsing in my favorite bookshop,” she began hesitantly. “A place I’d visited hundreds of times before. I was reaching for a volume when suddenly … everything changed.”
Rivenna nodded encouragingly.
“The pages … all the pages in all the books … seemed to come alive. They tore themselves free, thousands of them, tens of thousands perhaps, swirling around me in a storm. And they were folding—not just once, but over and over, changing shape so rapidly I couldn’t follow the transformations.” Her voice caught. “They were like razor blades, all those edges. I couldn’t escape them. They left cuts everywhere—my arms, my face, my hands.”
She looked down at her arms. There were no scars. Magic had been used to heal her. But she imagined she could see the many cuts that had been there.
“The bookshop pixies were shrieking, trapped in the rafters. The shop owner was shouting for help. And I …” Iris swallowed hard. “I couldn’t stop it. It was like the pages were possessed.” The memory of blood trickling down her arms, of the shop owner’s horrified face, of her parents’ frantic arrival—it all came rushing back. “It was chaos. Destruction. Nothing like the controlled paper creations I can make now.”
“It was not destruction,” Rivenna said gently. “It was revelation. You weren’t simply making paper fold. You were suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of all possible patterns andconfigurations within every page of every book. It sounds as though the pages responded to your uncontrolled power by simultaneously trying to take all possible forms at once, creating the violent storm of paper and sharp edges.”
Iris was silent for several moments, taking this in before responding. “But what use is such an ability? Seeing possibilities that may never come to pass?”
“What use?” Rivenna echoed with a hint of incredulity. “Iris, you are more attuned to potential than most will ever be. You can perceive not just what is, but what might become. Combined with all the information the tea house gathers and reveals to us, this gift could be extraordinarily valuable.”
Iris frowned, considering the implications. “You mean I could … use this information to guide people? To influence their choices?”
“To present possibilities they might not otherwise see,” Rivenna corrected. “To nurture opportunities that align with their deepest desires.”
“That sounds uncomfortably like moving people around a game board,” Iris said, her unease evident. “I know we’ve spoken about this already, but I’m not certain it feels right.”
Rivenna leaned forward slightly. “You misunderstand. We do not force paths upon others; we merely illuminate possibilities. We present options, create openings, arrange introductions between those who might benefit from knowing one another. The choice to step through a door will always belong to the person standing before it.”
