She frowns. “Are you sure?”

I touch a single finger to one of the bones, anxious to end the conversation. “You’re holding a coin,” I tell her. “A silver one.”

Her sharp intake of breath closes a fist of fear around my throat. Too late, I realize that she expected the task to be far more difficult. My heart hammers beneath my rib cage. The mastery tattoo hidden under my sleeve suddenly feels as if it’s on fire.

Master Kyra opens her palm to reveal a small silver coin. “Are you sure you’ve never attempted a reading before?” Her tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent of suspicion beneath her words that makes me feel as if I’m on trial. I try to remember how long it took on my other path to gain a level of skill for these kinds of simple tasks, but the reading of Gran’s healed bone wasn’t clear enough to give me every detail.

“Maybe it’s beginner’s luck?” My voice comes out strained.

Kyra frowns. “Unlikely. In my experience, luck and magic don’t usually join hands.”

I feel like a rabbit caught in the sudden bright beam of a hunter’s lantern. Trapped. Exposed. I need to say something to erase the wariness from her expression.

“My gran always said she thought I would have an aptitude for charming,” I say. And then after a pause: “Before she died.”

Kyra’s eyes fill with sympathy. Her fingertip trails along the edge of the velvet cloth as if she might find an explanation in the bones themselves.

Finally her gaze meets mine and she smiles. “It seems your gran was right. You must be exceptionally gifted. Perhaps it won’t take you as long to catch up as we feared.”

Despite all my worry, the statement gives me a little stab of satisfaction. The more talent and training I have, the better my chances of finding Latham and getting my mother’s bones back. And then I’ll make him pay for what he’s done.

“Shall we try something more challenging?”

“Sure.”

She taps her bottom lip with her index finger and stares off into the distance. “Can you divine the weather …” My heart does a little leap because weather is easy. But then Kyra continues: “In Midwood?”

Until Master Kyra lit the incense, I had actually managed not to think about my mother for a few hours. But the moment she entered my mind again, it was like ripping open a barely healed wound. Focusing on home right now would be unbearable.

I swallow. “Does it have to be Midwood?”