Magic's Memories

Chapter Twenty-one

The fact that lying was getting easier bothered her the most.

Lord's Council was in full swing now and Feyla had fallen into a too-comfortable pattern. Eat breakfast with Sedgewick, help him with whatever paperwork he needed for the day, then run out of the palace to make it to the Healer's Guild.

Feyla splashed water on her face, her skin too warm and flushed to even blame on the summer heat. She needed a moment. Just a moment before she had to go back out there and tell her mother all of Sedgewick's search plans that he'd confided to her just an hour before. She leaned against the washroom's basin and let the water droplets soak into the front of her hair and dribble down her skin. Breath in, breath out. She could do this. All she had to do was pacify her mother, catch Desden Carrow, and...somehow keep Sedgewick from finding out any of it.

Feyla's gut twisted again at the thought. How did anyone handle lying on a regular basis? She puffed at her reflection, procrastinating one moment longer before undoing the two hooks at the top of her dress and loosening her sash.

The light orange fabric pooled at her feel and the blue sash joined it as she tugged it off. Mother's latest attempt to ensnare Feyla in the fold included having her change in one of the guild leader's quarters.

"You might end up liking it," her mother had said.

Because moving back into a guild house with you would be such a step forward with my life, Feyla grumbled inwardly. If she knew her mother, this was Arilla hinting that she wouldn't need to work for Sedgewick to afford a place to stay. Or an allusion to what Daydrel would be able to give her once he was promoted to guild leader.

Still, it was a nice set of rooms. Working at the palace hadn't quite inoculated her to the finer things in life. The washroom featured not one but two cool stone basins, one on the floor for her feet with various salts and ointments neatly shelved beside it and another higher one for her face, hands, and hair. The latter even had a special divot in the stone to make it more comfortable for her to lean her neck over it and wash her hair. There was even enough space for a small wooden tub if she was desperate to avoid the clean, well-maintained bathhouse set aside for the healers downstairs.

I wouldn't mind a room like this in our own house, she thought, filing away the layout for later. Feyla stepped out of the washroom, the slightly cooler air hitting her bare skin. Light pooled on the ground from the upper windows of the round ceiling, bleeding into the yellow rug stretched across the white wooden floor. Feyla bit her lip at the sight of a crisp new set of battle healer's garb stretched across the yellow bedspread.

I need to fix this, she reminded herself. Plucking the light gray leggings off the bed, Feyla quickly slid them on. Next came the white, knee-length tunic dress. She buckled a thick leather belt over the loose material. Most of her gear had already been tucked into the various loops and pockets.

Grasping her hair in her hands, Feyla twisted it up into a bun at the nape of her neck and pinned it into place. She tucked Sedgewick's necklace into her dress, letting it sit right next to her heart. Ready.

A few minutes later, Feyla had reached the back courtyard set aside for battle healer's training. A circle for dueling was marked out in the center. Practice dummies, their pressure points marked with blue squares, were lined up like rows of white bandages further back. Thick, wooden trellises interspaced the dummies, making Feyla smile for a moment. She'd missed practicing on those. Stealth climb-and-jumps had been one of her signature moves.

Delia waved Feyla over and Feyla's smile dropped at the sight of Daydrel leaning against one of the scaffoldings behind her.

"How's your arm?" Delia asked, giving her a gentle hug.