“What ... are you doing?” I asked through clenched teeth, still fighting to keep control.

“What I do naturally,” Varia replied. “Come now. Did you think that I had no power of my own? That I only organized others into doing my errands?”

To be honest, I hadn’t thought much about it. We’d talked a lot about the complex group spells worked in the Yew Land. The fact that she ruled a kingdom implied she possessed considerable magic, but the specifics had been less important in the face of the blight’s greater threat. Now, as a grating buzzing filled my ears, I realized Varia must have some ability to affect a person’s equilibrium and neurological functions. In less scientific gentry terms, she could “mess with your head.”

It was astonishing and frustrating how crippling this was. In some ways, it was a lot like my helplessness with healing. Gentry magic expressed itself in a wide variety of forms, and mine was primarily a physical manifestation. If she’d started hurling fireballs at me, I could’ve answered her in kind with tangible elements. This kind of attack—invisible and almost psychic in nature—wasn’t anything I could throw a lightning bolt at. I could throw a lightning bolt at her, but that was going to require me pushing back against this mind melt—and right now, that was pretty damned difficult. The best I could hope for was that the others in the hall would show up before she killed us. Surely she couldn’t exert this kind of control over a bunch of people, and maybe someone would be more resistant than—

I gasped as a revelation came to me. Mustering my strength, I tried to ignore her mental attack as best I could in order to extend my homemade wand. I managed to recite Volusian’s summoning words, unsure if I could actually get him when I was in such a compromised state. Miraculously, he appeared.

“Volusian!” I exclaimed. “Help us.”

Volusian didn’t respond right away. He didn’t even look at me, really. Despite his shifting, flickering form, his red eyes burned bright and steady as he fixed them on Varia.

“Varia, daughter of Ganene,” he said, almost politely. “You resemble your mother.”

Varia frowned, and I felt the slightest easing of the magic she was working on me. Apparently, she could only focus on a limited number of things, which boded well for when my reinforcements arrived. Which I hoped would be soon.

“Who are you?” Varia demanded. “What are you? There’s something about you ... familiar and not familiar.”

“I should be familiar, as I still bear the brand of your mother and grandmother’s magic.”

Her eyes flicked to me, as though recalling my words when I’d called him. “Volusian? Surely not ... not that Volusian. He died long ago.”

“Dead and not dead,” he said. “Per the terms of the curse.”