Clutching the last book of parchments of spells Ara made before her arrest, Imani made her way to the industrial lot by the river.
The lot sat next to an old but well-maintained tavern owned by a common Naiad. Common and low-bred Naiads were usually unpleasant. But she preferred dealing with them over hobs, who were generally nasty and tricky. The exception was Riona, but even she had a volatile personality. At least with the Commons and Lows she knew what to expect.
She weaved in between the massive barges it housed, feeling exposed despite cleaning off the ash as best she could and changing clothes in the shop. Her whole body trembled.
More thunder rumbled overhead. Fear gripped her heart tighter after she'd witnessed the ramifications of her magic. Murdering Malis was one thing, but causing a Fabric event was not in her plans. With magic already so unstable and disappearing, the consequences terrified her.
The darker it got without the familiar lights of the Fabric dancing overhead, the more anxious she felt.
After what she'd done, she felt utterly unprepared to take on her new role. But now that magic and their family's business were in her grasp—how could she let it go? She had Dak and Meira to take care of too.
With deep breaths, Imani reminded herself that she knew every customer, every tactic, and all the magic. She'd participated in thousands of transactions and watched her grandmother day in and day out for years.
Scrubbing her hands down her face, she thought about how disgusted Ara and Riona would be at her failing, and she wished again her friend was here.
The dark wooden tavern door groaned as Imani pushed it open. People were drunk and boisterous, enjoying the tavern's warm fires and meals. Her ears flicked back and forth at the loud volume. Imani resisted the urge to cover them as she started making her way to the back kitchen.
Meira exited the kitchens, wand in hand. Worry radiated from her, paling her perfect skin into a dull gray. Her gaze landed on Imani, and she rushed to her side.
"Imani? Where have you been? Why is there soot and blood on you?" Meira's eyes were alarmingly blue tonight, too—wide and unsettling.
Another clap of thunder sounded, and they both gasped at the sound.
Without a word, Imani walked to the nearby hearth and massaged her shaking hands by the fire.
She'd never expected her sister to be here. Imani didn't want them to see her on a collection. She didn't want them to see her at all right now. Also, telling her siblings the truth put them in danger because they needed plausible deniability if the constable questioned them.
Meira conjured a warm washcloth with a snap of her wand as her mouth thinned into a disapproving line. "This is from the burning, isn't it? I wish you hadn't gone," she muttered, dabbing the remnants of Malis's body off Imani's neck. "We should've spent the day together, just the three of us."
Shutting her eyes, Imani remained quiet while Meira cleaned up her cheeks. Then, framing Imani's face with her hands, Meira gave her a once over and whispered, "Your illusion is slipping, liebe. Let me help."
Before Meira could cast the spell, Imani grabbed her wrist and shook her head. She didn't want any more magic than necessary being pulled right now.
"It's fine. I'm going home after I talk to Elyon anyway. Where's Dak?"
Narrowing her eyes, Meira tugged her wrist away. "He's here. Where have you been, by the way?"
"Here? Gods, Meira, I didn't think you'd rush off to work a shift in the kitchens. They'll live without magic for one night—"
—Thunder rumbled closer, and the building shook again. Every reverberation made her stomach lurch.
"Everyone is talking about the Fabric event. I thought..." Meira's brow furrowed as she trailed off. Imani knew what she'd thought. The Aowyn sisters had witnessed one other Fabric event this close before—and it had been devastating. Meira pointed at Imani's chest. "If you'd been home on time, I wouldn't have brought him tonight."
"There were so many fires. I stayed to help." The lie slipped out as she reached for her sister's hand.
"Do they know who cast the magic?"
Meira shook her head. "We—or I'm the only one wielding magic for miles," she said, clearing her throat.
"As far as we know."
"Could it be another fugitive? A visitor?"
"I'm not sure," Imani lied again.
A boisterous, drunken song got louder by the bar, saving her from lying more to her sister. Stumbling footsteps followed the singing.
"Oi, Imani! Come have a drink with us," Ren, her brother's best friend, shouted.
"You know you want to," Dak sang.
She fought a smile and rolled her eyes. Dak was a terrible singer. "You boys are sixteen years old and should be home," Imani hollered as she folded her arms.
"We won't accept no for an answer," Ren said, spreading his arms wide. Dak waved at her with a crooked grin.
Imani brushed her sister off and made her way through the crowd before sighing and plopping down next to the pair. "How long have you two been here? All afternoon?" Dak's silver-blond hair was curly and messy. Ren's brown eyes drank her in as he leaned on his forearm against the creaky bar, more to help him remain upright than to look handsome.
On her first day as her brother's guardian, he got inebriated in a tavern. Marvelous.
She needed a drink of her own. Elyon must have expected her because he lifted his chin without surprise and served her a glass of whiskey wordlessly. She enjoyed the warmth as soon as it hit her throat.
A tiny, mousy woman, clearly another Naiad, emerged from upstairs. A bright purple patchwork of marks branded her wrist and hand. It matched Elyon's, signaling a binding brand between them. It was new; she'd never seen it before on Elyon.
He'd found his heartmate. Interesting.
Even more interesting was that she could sense their signatures for the first time in her life. That brought a smile to her face. The more magic someone possessed, the easier it was for them to detect less powerful witches while easily hiding their signature from anyone weaker.
As they ordered food, almost everyone in the pub gossiped about the storm.
"Do they suspect someone around here performed that intense magic?"—
—"But, of course, it had to be more than one person. No one possesses magic like that anymore."
Imani silently agreed with these comments. Although she was now a witch with seven brands – a seven-mark – she couldn't have caused this alone. Unless the Fabric's destabilization had worsened.
A man set his glass on the bar and leaned forward, watching it get refilled. "Elyon, what do you know about this storm? They say we'll be under the cover of darkness soon, and there's nothing the high and mighty master witches at the Order can do about it."
A woman chimed in, pointing her glass at the man. "Aye, a reckoning is coming soon. Working at the docks, you hear all kinds of happenings. Not just about this red moon we've been having, but worse magic coming back."
Rumblings that magic was returning were nothing new. Unable—or unwilling if you subscribed to such theories—to be controlled, even by the witches it chose to brand, the beast of magic was rattling its cage. And when it reared its head, it was emerging more potent than ever. Or so they said.
"Stop trying to stir up trouble," Elyon said.
"It's true! I heard the lightning. It lit a dozen fires, not just in Norshire, but across the whole border."
These stories had grown more frequent as of late. Ash-choked windstorms had torn through the plains for years, but just last month, magic thunder had echoed inside a swirling smog in the abnormally bright sky out on the Neshuin sea. And before that, murmurs at the kingdom's edge spoke of a black mist spreading, wilting the blossoms and killing some of the mysterious Draswood trees in her home territory.
But if tonight wasn't just a story, she wondered how true the others were.
"They should just outlaw magic and get it over with," Elyon muttered.
She almost choked mid-sip since he had purchased illegal magic from her last month. But she recovered quickly and took a drink.
Imagining a world without magic, where she became powerless again, made her chest twist in pain, too. Despite the Fabric event, the thought of someone taking magic away was unbearable—not when she'd just begun to come alive with it.
She narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of her glass. "Outlawing magic isn't the answer."
"Elves can't even lace up their boots without magic," he teased, a sly smile lit his face.
She lifted her glass again, tipping all the liquid back. "Let's hope you never find out if that's true."
Before he could reply, her brother draped his arm around her shoulders and pointed at Elyon, then the rest of the crowd. "I bet you all the gold pieces in my pocket that my sister can throw a knife better than any of you."
"If she can throw a set around two people from fifteen feet back, then we have a deal," Elyon announced, arching his brow at her.
Her stomach dropped. She was too weak after killing Malis. Her hands shook at her sides even as one shot out and tried to capture her brother's wrist. "No, I—"
—"Excellent!" Her brother clapped his hands together once before getting to his feet and grabbing his friend, who almost toppled over.
"Saints, Ren," Dak complained loudly. "You weigh practically nothing. How do you attract anyone with this physique?"
"My charm and incredible sense of humor. We don't all have a special magic to get people to sleep with us," he grumbled, shoving Dak back.
"How dare you insinuate such drivel. I would never use that on you," Dak stated with exaggerated astonishment, touching his hand to his chest as they lined up against the wall.
"Don't kill us, Imani," Ren begged.
"Oh, hush. Imani might look unimpressive." He paused. "Actually, she looks very unimpressive," Dak chuckled with a wave at her. "But worry not! I'm sure she's got a plan of some kind."
"I don't have a plan," Imani snapped, grabbing one of the knives and testing its weight. Her arm shook a little, but with Dak's taunting, she had to try. "Although I've never been a good loser."
"No shit," Dak snickered while Ren shot back at the same time, "You're kidding."
Ignoring them, her eyes assessed the rest of the room. Money was exchanging hands, and everyone was staring, some slack-jawed and silent, others considering and curious.
So much for being inconspicuous tonight.
She was familiar with the feeling of being stared at but hated their eyes. It put her even more on edge after what she'd done.
"All the knives need to stick, or you lose. And in case it wasn't assumed, no magic." Elyon shouted.
While tempting, using magic was the last thing she needed to do now. "Now, what would be the point in that? I'll do this fair and square," she replied before closing one eye and aiming for her brother's brow—
—moments later, all the knives were stuck in the wall above their heads. Then, Ren fell to the floor along with one of the knives. "Oh, Gods," he murmured.
And with that one clatter, she'd lost. Half the crowd cheered, and others groaned.
"Impressive but not impressive enough," Elyon drawled with no note of amazement whatsoever.
Imani gave him a dismissive wave, but her chest hurt after failing in front of everyone. She wanted to remind them that she'd had a trying day. But Riona's voice echoed in her head. "Don't make excuses for your mistakes. You're better than that."
"Damn it all, Dak," Ren muttered, dropping his coins onto the counter next to her brother's. "You told me she'd easily land both."
"Did I? I'll take another," Dak smirked and motioned to his empty mug, seemingly unbothered by losing all his coin.
Elyon obliged, and she wondered how much worse this day would get before it ended.