Isolde smiled. “I only… I refuse to believe this is nothing but a mistake, or some kind of magical mutation. When I stood on the ley line, I felt a presence. I’m going to the Nexus to do something important, not to get cured…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to be cured. This magic is part of me now, and I want to keep it.”
There, she’d said it out loud. Not to Luella or Garren, but she’d said it. She pinched her nose and swallowed a big gulp of tea.
Mia was eyeing her appreciatively. “I don’t blame you, love. I wouldn’t give mine up either.”
“I haven’t seen you use it,” Isolde said, suddenly curious. She had almost forgotten that Mia had a small amount of magic, even though she could sense it inside her if she focused.
“No need to,” Mia said breezily. “You lot are an easy audience. My magic is subtle. Music, storytelling. The fine art of persuasion. Influencing opinions, changing someone’s mind. I’m not a miracle worker, but I do well enough.” She leaned back against the wall and laced her hands behind her head. “When I was younger, I thought I was merely very charming. I am, of course, but it took a few years before I figured out it was more than that. If I say the right word or play the right chord, I can nudge others in a certain direction. It has kept me safe from all kinds of things, most notably from men. I would be lost without it.”
“That is incredible,” Isolde said, looking at Mia with renewed fascination. “I wonder if I could learn to do that.”
“Isn’t your magic essentially limitless? You can probably learn anything you want.”
“Maybe…” Isolde’s thoughts drifted as she considered Mia’s words, and they lapsed into a companionable silence.
She was about to ask another question when Felix’s silhouette appeared in the doorway. He was still shirtless, and gave her a grin that brought back vivid memories of his mouth doing other things. It sent tingles down her spine. Next to her, Mia said something.
Isolde blinked. “Sorry, what?”
Mia laughed, feigning exasperation. “Well, as far as bardic inspiration goes,” she said with a yawn, “the two of you are truly a gift that keeps on giving.” She rose and arched her back in a languid stretch, then threw Isolde an exaggerated wink before sauntering off.
“Good morning,” Isolde murmured as she leaned her head against Felix’s shoulder when he sat down next to her. He smelled of rain. “You’re not wearing a shirt. I like it.”
Felix turned to smirk at her. “That's good, since you’re wearing it. Where’d you get that?” he asked, looking at the mug. “Does witch lace grow this far north?”
Isolde lowered her eyes as her cheeks reddened. “I, um… I got it from Asara, in the Crovan village. Just in case.”
Felix stilled next to her. “You… you have been carrying witch lace around for weeks and weeks,” he blurted out after a moment, laughter in his voice, “through battle and endless bloody wilderness and rain,just in case?You utter temptress. Have I ever told you that you are brilliant?”
She giggled. “Once or twice.” He pressed his lips to hers, and she laughed at the face he made at the lingering taste of the tea.
“Could younot?”Luella called from the doorway. “And does he not own a shirt?”
***
Felix found a shirt to wear by the time Garren returned to the keep. The older man appeared withdrawn, even for him. It made Isolde nervous, but she was determined not to let it show.
She looked around at her gathered companions. Quiet, reliable Luella, cautious but capable Garren. Leif, with all his wide-eyed wonder and excitement, and Mia with her wit and unexpected wisdom. Isolde had grown to care deeply for all of them, for sticking with her even when they did not agree with all of her decisions. She hoped that the decision she was about to announce would not change that. Felix leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes were on her, his expression warm. He would support her. The knowledge that he had her back, no matter what, made her strong.
“So,” she began, twisting her fingers nervously, “I think it could be helpful if we analyse our situation and piece together all the information we have. About the Nexus and the mages, as well as the other, um, groups involved. We could try to come up with some hypotheses…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked around at each of them.
“That is an excellent idea,” Luella said with a firm nod. “Perhaps we should start with the mercenaries.”
Isolde’s insides twisted at the memory of the broken man, crushed by her boulder. “Their pursuit ended after our… confrontation with them in the hills. Afterwards, they either retreated, or we evaded them somehow.”
“If Alwin was leading them, which he most likely was, any survivors or parallel groups won’t continue to pursue without heading back to a guild house for new orders first,” Felix said. “That’s how they operate. We’ll have left them far behind by now.”
“How much further until we reach the Nexus?” Isolde asked.
“Five days, give or take,” Luella answered. “It’s supposed to be at the foot of the Veilcrags.”
Five days! Isolde struggled not to sway on her feet at the news. She wasn’t ready. Part of her wanted to run as fast as she could in the other direction.
“Probably not much chance of them catching up,” she said, chewing her lip. “That leaves the mages. Supposedly, the mage from the ball is ahead of us. Likely already there. What do we know about him?”
“According to Mia, he has several other mages and a company of mercenaries with him,” Luella said. Mia nodded in acknowledgement.
“I talked to him,” Felix said, frowning. “His colleague wanted to have you killed, but he argued against it. Said the binding was weak, and that this was an opportunity.”
