“What if it was cursed with bad magic?”

“Oh, I see. I know some magics die with their caster, but not all. For example, there was a man who could move water. He would sing to it, and whole rivers would change their course at his command. But when he died, the water reverted back to its natural state. Flowing with the land. Your items, however, are physical and likely wouldn’t lose their magic after you die.”

Well, that’s terribly unhelpful. Not that I want the answer to my problem to be for me to die.

“Why do you ask?” Petrik wants to know.

I dreaded this question, but I also prepared for it. “There are bad people in the world. Someday one of them might possess magic. I was just curious.”

“As magic becomes more common, I’m sure it will undoubtedly find itself in the hands of those who would misuse it. Let us hope that the bad will always be outnumbered by the good. By people like you, Ziva.”

“Thank you, Petrik.” A sharp pain pricks my heart, for I’m the reason magic almost found its way into the hands of a bad person. And I can’t fix it. All I can do is try to keep it away from her.

With a newfound family that seems to accept me, and everything in order to prepare Kellyn’s weapon, I start to relax. For the first time in a while, I feel safe.

And then Sunday arrives.

Volanna makes us sit in the front row, and in that moment, my regard for her dims. She does, however, shoot me a sympathetic look. Did my father also struggle sitting in the front row? Did he hate public places as much as I do? I’ll have to ask Volanna about it the next chance I get.

With her sons and their families positioned on Volanna’s left and Temra and me and Petrik on her right, we take up the entire center pew.

I can feel the stares of all the people sitting behind me, which is everyone in the church. My skin itches, and I think I pull a muscle in one of my fingers as I fiddle with them, but that doesn’t stop the nervous tick.

By the Twins, I’d rather be anywhere else right now. Facing the warlord. Back on the road. In the tavern with Kellyn.

That last thought surprises me. Even more so when I realize it’s actually true.

But I can do this. My newfound family likes to sit in the front row, so I will sit with them.

We arrived early, so it is several more minutes before a priestess takes the stand at the front of the chapel.

Two lifelike paintings, one of each Sister Goddess, hang on the walls to either side of her. Ebanarra has golden-white robes. Her lips are curved up in a smile, looking at something we can’t see. Tasminya is in ebony. Her face is unreadable, but she stares straight ahead, catching the eyes of all who would look upon her.