1
It was bad enough to be deprived of my new husband before our wedding night. It was utterly unjust to be tormented by nightmares weeks afterward as I slept,stillalone, in our marital bed.
For the ninth morning in a row, I woke up gasping and clawing at my throat, fighting to yank piercing thorns out from my skin...thorns that, of course, existed nowhere but in my dreams.
Groaning, I tipped my head back against my pillow. Darkness filled the un-curtained windows across from me, with no hints of dawn yet to illuminate the thick woodland beyond. Still, I knew better than to make any reckless attempts to fall back to sleep. There was only one dream I ever experienced nowadays, and it would suck me directly back into its maw if I allowed my eyes to fall shut again.
It was exhausting, infuriating, and an irony beyond compare for the headmistress of Angland’s first women’s college of magic to be the only magician in the nation who couldn’t cast a simple spell to protect her sleep. I had lost my own magic over nine months ago, though, and Wrexham’s pillow—which had been placed so hopefully beside mine on the morning of our wedding five weeks earlier—was still depressingly empty and unused. He had been called away by an urgent messenger in the middle of our wedding breakfast, and he still hadn’t returned from the latest wild goose chase that he’d been sent on by the Boudiccate.
Of course, their messages always claimed that no other officer of magic could be trusted with any of those vital missions that had disrupted every day he’d reserved to spend with me after our wedding...but the message behind that endless stream of summonses was unmistakable. Those powerful, elegant women who collectively ruled our nation were anything but subtle in their indications of displeasure—and although my late mother had once led their number, I myself was now officially their least favorite constituent.
Groaning, I pushed my bedcovers aside and forced myself upright, fighting through the sticky cobweb of exhaustion and leftover dread that that hateful dream always left in its wake. In the unrelenting darkness, it was too easy to remember the inescapable, choking helplessness I’d felt,again, as thorn-covered vines wound around my throat and mouth and—
No.My teeth clenched as I slammed my bare feet onto the cold wooden floorboards, drawing strength from the shock of contact. I had been fighting against the Boudiccate’s stifling disapproval and the age-old rules of our society ever since I’d first discovered my own gift for magic decades ago. I would hardly let a few bad dreams—or lovesickness—slow me down at this most crucial moment of my life.
Today my groundbreaking school of magic for women—the brilliant, nation-shaking project that I desperately hoped to make my great life’s work—wasfinallydue to open its doors, after months of vicious newspaper attacks and political obstruction. My students—nine bright, shining young women full of potential—would start arriving before noon, along with their nervous parents and—I devoutly hoped—the final member of my own newly-hired staff, just in time for the first classes to begin tomorrow.
Everything had to be perfect for their arrival.
But I was caught hopelessly off-guard after all, by the news that my politician sister-in-law brought me six hours later, when she found me kneeling in my warm, cozy library of magic, re-ordering two different sections of books—again—with a trail of empty teacups and saucers spread across the rich green and silver carpet beside me.
“What do you mean, the Boudiccate havechanged their minds?” I demanded.
I stared up at Amy, still holding a stack of books in my hands and caught between horror and disbelief. I’d consumed at least half a dozen cups of tea since I’d arisen, using my extra waking hours to double- and triple-check every final inspection, but exhaustion still clung to my bones. “They finally gave us their blessing—”
“The Boudiccate gave you theirpermission,” Amy corrected me grimly, “and only with extreme reluctance. Now, however...” She held up the letter she’d carried into the library. “They’ve been provided,” she said, “with new and ‘compelling’ arguments regarding the dangers of this enterprise, all of which must be fully considered—and can, apparently, only be decided upon after an in-person inspection.”
“An—?” Shaking my head, I pushed myself up from the carpeted floor to look at my sister-in-law more carefully.
A mere two months after giving birth to my first niece, Amy’s beautiful, beloved dark brown face was lined with all of the exhaustion that might be expected in a new mother, especially one so unconventional—not to mention stubborn—as to insist upon feeding her child herself. Considering that she had, in addition, persisted in aiding me in my own work even with a nursing infant frequently clasped in her arms, it was no wonder that there were deep shadows lurking beneath her eyes now.
But I glimpsed more than simple exhaustion in her face. There was an unhappy turn to her lips, and her warm brown eyes looked strained with more than tiredness.
For the past five weeks, ever since my painfully abbreviated wedding day, I’d clamped a firm lid on my emotions, throwing every bit of my energy into the final stages of creating my school—and into its vigorous defense against each fresh onslaught of offensive public and private opinion and last-minute administrative hurdles.
Now, though, I looked hard at Amy and frowned. “Something’s amiss,” I said. “Shouldn’t you have had notice of this change in the wind far earlier? Your friends in the Boudiccate—”
“Oh, this letter made itquiteclear that they’re no longer sharing sensitive information with me.” Amy waved one hand dismissively, as if we were discussing trivialities rather than her life’s work. “You needn’t concern yourself, Cassandra. I knew from the outset that they wouldn’t be pleased about your school. I made the choice to support you anyway.”
And I had been surprised that she’d found so much free time to help me with it. Now I narrowed my eyes at her. “I specifically recall you telling me you were only taking a temporary leave of absence from your political duties for little Miranda’s first months.”
“I was.” Amy gave a careless shrug. “But it appears—based on this letter—that my absence from politics may last longer than I’d anticipated. Never mind. Perhaps it’s time for me to find a new vocation, as you did.”
Her expression was perfectly, purposefully serene, but Amy had been my older sister in all but blood for over fifteen years now, and she’d been strategizing toward a place in the Boudiccate all her life. I’d been certain that this was the year she would finally win that place.
A new seat had opened in the Boudiccate five months ago, for the first time in years. There could be no question that she was the best-qualified politician available to fill it.
“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me they were threatening to sanction you!” Tossing my stack of books aside, I strode across the carpeted floor of the library. Amy herself had helped me decorate the room two weeks ago, whilst laughing and chatting and distracting me from all of my own minor anxieties.
“You know I would never ask you to choose my career over yours!” I said. “I would have done all of this without you if I’d known—you could have pretended to disapprove! I would have found a different home for the school, far away from our family, so that you could officially disavow me, and—”
“Cassandra.” The iron in Amy’s voice cut me off. “It is done,” she said quietly. “I know you would never ask me to make that choice, butthey did. And if you think I would ever choose anything above my family...”
Silence fell as my shoulders sagged in acceptance. Of course Amy would never make that choice. She was the acknowledged and adored matriarch of our clan, the rock that kept us safe through every storm.
“Is it too late?” I asked finally. “If I move the school now...” Involuntarily, I glanced toward the window; all those hopeful girls traveling across the nation to join us as we spoke, after so many months of tooth-grinding negotiations and so many painstaking arrangements....
Still. I would send them all back without a twinge if it would save my sister-in-law’s future.
