“Both of my parents are fae,” he said. “‘Witch’ is usually a term ascribed to humans with the small magics—though I’ve heard plenty of people use ‘witch’ on the fae as well if the fae has a power feared by others.”

“You mean, you use ‘witch’ for other fae? Wouldn’t they just be ‘dark fae’?”

From across the campfire, she saw how the term drew the briefest of eyes from the other men of Raascot. In the same unwavering nonchalance she’d come to appreciate, Zaccai answered her question.

“No, it has nothing to do with geography. It’s not unusual to hear humans and fae alike refer to those who possess feared traits as witches. My mother herself had discovered no skills beyond that of a typical northern fae—flight, health, long life, ease of nocturnal sight—though she saw those with power for their value, not their fear. A healer, a water-speaker, a medium, and a grower all held far more practical value than the goddess, at least on a day-to-day basis. Unless, of course, you ever meet a manifester.”

“What is a manifester?”

Zaccai paused a bit too long before answering. He considered the question as if it held more weight than Amaris understood.

“From what I understand of it,” he began, “manifesting is something like dreaming, and making your dreams into a reality. You just”—he snapped his fingers—“create. From what I’ve heard about manifesting, it’s only been seen a few times over the course of history. It cannot be used freely, quickly, or lightly. It may not exist at all, save for the All Mother. Some think it’s how she got her name. Most think the power is little more than a fairy tale.”

Amaris was just intelligent enough to spend every passing day feeling less and less educated on the realities of her world. The more the world opened up for her, the smaller she felt. How could she have spent fifteen years studying at Farleigh and have learned little beyond her letters, maths, and recited prayers? Uaimh Reev had trained her body, developed her muscle memory, and created a formidable warrior. In the keep, she’d learned of beasts, of tonics, of poisons and health. She was frustrated that she’d spent so little time learning about gifts, abilities, fae, witches, and power. She’d wasted years with the matrons on reading, writing, and drawing, but she knew nothing of the magic that flowed through the world.

She took a different approach, and still speaking to Zaccai, she asked, “Do you not believe in the goddess?”

“I believe that the world is full of magic, both good and bad. Who’s to say whether it is or isn’t from a superior power? It seems a bit pointless, don’t you think? We just have to take our days one day at a time, no matter who is or isn’t watching.”