Ever so slowly, her body began to lean into his, until her head nestled into the hollow of his neck and her chest lay along the side of his own. She breathed in deeply, and then turned her eyes to her mother. He felt the soft tickle of her hair against his cheek, and the gentle rise of each breath as it moved from her body into his. And when he went to say something else, anything else to prolong this moment, he realized she was already asleep.

And for the first time in a long while, the knot of longing in his chest began to unwind, and the pain of missing her subsided.

The least studied of the original magics is the power of spirit. Those documented were typically of weaker ability, and their gifts might be nothing more than a sense of knowing—an unusual awareness of both the living and the dead. But it is believed that a powerful spirit witch can speak to the dead as easily as the living, and perhaps command them to do his or her bidding. Some have hypothesized that a similar sway might even be possible over the souls of the living.

—An Examination of the Original Magics

13

Nova should have been terrified. And she was, in part. But she also still felt the rush of energy coursing through her from the fight before. Her palms tingled with the seemingly boundless supply of magic she had absorbed from the firestorm embers she had been holding at their final capture. It coursed through her, making her feel alive, and banishing the fatigue and despair that had clung to her for so long. The soldiers did not return them to the dungeons, but instead took them to the wing that housed the military forces, and she and the other witch were placed in a small barracks room meant for a few soldiers to share. The soldiers on guard did a thorough search of the room, removing anything metal or large in size that might be used as a weapon, and then locked them inside. She heard their continued conversation outside, so she assumed they remained on guard, but she tentatively took a seat on one of four narrow beds, her body rejoicing at the first sign of comfort she had felt in ages.

The warrior witch paced the room, stopping to listen to the soldiers’ chatter on occasion or pressing a hand to the wall or the floor without explanation. After a while, she seemed to have ascertained whatever she needed, and she crossed the room and sat on the same bed as Nova.

“Someone will be coming to question us soon, and we need to have our stories aligned.”

Nova nodded. “It will be the prince. He always questioned me himself after Aurora disappeared. He was obsessed.”

The witch tilted her head. “Was he?”