Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 9.1 - Aster

She smiles softly. "You're excited about this, aren't you?"

"I... like trying to solve problems. And I like learning new things about magic. There's so much we don't know, but sometimes it feels like it's just—" I gesture vaguely. "Right there."

"Like the world is a great mystery you can solve if you just study enough."

I smile. I know she's talking about her science, but even so, sometimes it feels like she understands what I'm saying better than the people I've grown up around. "Are you ready to learn the exercises?"

She nods.

"Then let's get started. The first method is a spell."

She frowns, and I remember her rooftop vow to never cast again. "How is doing magic going to keep me from doing magic?"

"It's not... like most spells. And being more acquainted with regular magic might make it easier to interact productively with your wild magic."

She shakes her head, more locks falling to frame her face. "It... it's like it tries to eat you, Aster. Like it tries to swallow you up and make you its own."

My lips twist. Magic is beautiful and strong, and Leavi has an obvious connection with it. Yet she treats it like it's as evil as the Shadesnare himself. "It doesn't have to be something to fear. It's not a predator so much as something to have a relationship with. You provide it will and direction, and it—" I stand. "Hold on, I think I have a book somewhere." I move to the shelf, thumbing through the spines.

"You provide it will?" She scoffs, but it sounds more scared than scornful. She leans back into the couch, voice softening. "Seems more like it's trying to take your will over."

I tip the book out and glance at her. "By invoking the spell, you're telling it what you want it to do. If a musician decides to play a note on their instrument, pulls their bow across the string, then decides she'd rather not play that note, it's too late. She's already set the string to thrumming, and the note will play."

That seems to give her pause, and I flip through my book until I find the passage. "Here it is. 'Magic bridled is much like a reined horse. It can be directed, and in that direction there is much value. I can't help but wonder, though, if wild magic is like a horse that's never known domestication: it runs harder, faster, and farther, but it runs at its own direction.'" I look back up at her and shut the book.

Her eyes close. "So if I want any hope at taming my magic—" She looks up at me. "You're saying I'm going to have to learn yours."

I sit back down beside her, sliding the book onto the table. "This spell won't be as bad as the one you cast on the rooftop. It won't drain you afterward; it's not made to affect the physical world. Its sole purpose is to align the caster with her magic, pull her into focus." I hope it actually helps her. Some wizards say they never cast anything important without casting this first, but though I feel it go off when I cast, the spell never seems to make a difference. I gave up on it long ago.

She takes a deep breath, like someone preparing to jump into cold water. "You really think this is going to help?"

"I do." I hope.

She nods as if gathering her will. "Then what do I need to do?"

I smile. The road she has to walk will be a hard one, especially to someone who fears magic as much as she does. I wonder how many people would sit despairing in the center of the path instead. "Most of it is movement-based," I explain, "but there is one word—fæn." I show her the motions.

She rubs her charm as if for good luck, then closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and casts. The spell is short, and she finishes the motions quickly enough. Then she doubles over.

Worry and frustration spike. "Leavi, you have to give up control."

She rocks back and forth, face tight with pain. It's only going to get worse as she lets it continue. I need to take the spell from her. As I reach out, though, her body relaxes. She sighs, relieved, and pushes up slowly, spell over.

She's glowing silver. It radiates in a full-body corona. Her eyes glow with it, and the ends of her hair just barely float in the light. I watch, entranced.

She looks like a Stellry.

Her eyes widen as she examines herself, hand lifting, gaze trailing up her glowing skin. "Aster, what is this?" Rather than fear, her voice holds a touch of awe.

"I'm not sure." My words are slow. "You... I guess this must be what happens when you're well-connected with your magic."

"It's... beautiful. And it feels like"—she pauses, still considering her hand—"like being warm in front of a fire. Safe. Right." She doesn't look at me as she talks, as if the situation is too surreal for her to second-guess her speech.

"That's," I pause, searching for the words. "That seems wonderful." Something twinges within me, a rekindling of an old ember of bitterness, jealousy. Her magic is breathtaking. And she doesn't even want it.

She nods softly, eyes still roaming over the fading silver. As we watch, it dims and disappears, the phenomenon gone to be viewed another day.

Another second passes, and Leavi asks quietly, "What now?"

"Well." As I stand, my eyes catch a stack of notes—orders to my wizards, requests to Ladies, responses to Sela—reminding me of all the work left to be done. I scoop them up, already dreading trying to find someone to deliver them. Chances are, any page I ask will report to some Lady or other what they could glean from the message just as soon as they hand it off. Seals haven't been tamper-proof since they were invented.

"I really need to get back to work, but if you'll come with me, I'll get you set up somewhere." I hold out a hand, and she takes it, standing. "Remember, though." I hold her gaze. Her face is soft and open, and for just a moment, I marvel at how much she trusts me. No one in this castle trusts anyone. "Don't let anyone see your wild magic trigger. There's a chance they'll dismiss the matter, not understanding what they saw, but any wizard in this castle worth anything will recognize the signs."

"The light, you mean?"

I nod. "Your eyes flash silver as well."

Her lips press together, her gaze thoughtful. "I understand."

We leave. As we walk, Leavi glances at the notes in my hand. "What are those for?"

I give a wry smile. "Asking people to do things without having to have a full conversation with them." We turn a corner. "It's incredibly convenient—if I can trust the message bearers not to take a peek."

Her eyes flick over at me. "You have people spying on you? In your own castle?"

"Ha." I lower my voice conspiratorially. "Isn't that the job of the Ladies?" We turn onto another empty hall. A portrait of my grandmother dominates the wall to my left. I never knew her, and I wonder if my mother acts as much like her as Sela does Mother. The woman's gentle eyes watch us as we pass.

"I could deliver them for you, you know."

I look at Leavi, steps stalling.

"If you just need someone you can trust, I mean. I could deliver them for you."

She nearly got killed for sneaking into the castle, and one of the first things she does is offer to work for it? "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

I start walking again. "You don't know our customs."

She catches up. "I'll have to learn them no matter what."

"You don't know the people you'd be delivering to. Or how to get around the castle."

"I'm a quick study."

"You'll be in the public more. And if your magic..." I leave the thought dangling.

This time, it's her that stops. "Would I be helpful or not?"

I watch her. She stands straight, still half a head shorter than me, a challenge in the line of her mouth, determination in her eyes. They were the only thing I could see through the slit of my cell door when she promised to rescue me.

I smile softly. "You're hired, then."