“Nope,” I say with a shrug, diverting my gaze from his. “It’s certainly not outside the realm of possibility that I could have lost control, because I was overwhelmed by my power back then. I had no idea what I was doing. But the only time I ever truly lost control was… well, when I chucked thousands of Velmarans out of Thayaria, killed even more, and erected a barrier of mist around the whole country.” I look down at my lap and pick at a thread on my leggings. The mood sobers.

“So why did he invade Thayaria, then?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I have my suspicions, of course. But he certainly never revealed anything to me. Even at… the end… before I—you know—did the mist.” I wave my hand in the direction of the coast. “He maintained that I was too powerful to be left alone, that he had a ‘duty,’ as he put it, to unseat me. Labeled me a witch and convinced everyone my magic was immoral. I think he just didn’t want to be the second most powerful ruler alive. I think—I don’t know, I could be wrong about this—but I think he was afraid of the threat my power presented.”

“And your parents?” he asks, tentatively. “What—”

“I don’t want to talk about them,” I say firmly before he can even get the full question out. I might be trying to open up, but that is a step too far. Instead, I dig in the basket, then pull out the chocolate cake as a distraction. “Enough talk of your father and the war. We have cake to enjoy,” I say with a grin, then hand him his slice.

“Cake?” he asks, brows furrowing.

“What, do you not have cake in Velmara?”

“No, we do. You make it sound like it’s more than just, well, cake.” He shrugs.

“Clearly you don’t understand the magical properties of chocolate cake. We’ll finish your lessons for the day with a practical lesson. Eat the cake, that’s the lesson.”

He rolls his eyes but takes a bite of the cake. “It’s good, I’ll give you that. But I prefer frozen ices and candies much more.”

My mouth drops open, aghast at his dismissal of my favorite food. I shake my head, and we finish our lunch in silence, though this time it’s comfortable and not awkward. When I’ve taken my last bite of the delectable treat, Hawthorne leads me back to the unofficial training circle we’ve been working in.

“Can you make weapons with light?” he asks.

“I’ve never tried.” I concentrate, then gather the surrounding light into a honed dagger.