She could hear the hope in his voice, even as he continued to argue. “But … even without the storm cloud … if I left for good, I’d be betraying the Ancestors. Betraying my mother’s memory. And if I don’t have any children…”

“Who said anything about leaving for good, eh? You can visit other places, can’t you, as long as you return? And … and I will have all the children our dynasty needs.” It was hard for her to imagine such a thing, but she said it anyway.

“Really?” Winton sniffed.

“Everything’s going to be all right, Brother,” she said, and she pulled him into her embrace. She owed him this, at least.

THIRTEEN

Chaos

After two days of training, Lena felt different—stronger. The feeling had been rising, as if the magic in her belly had been stoked with fuel. The place she had once struggled to find and draw from grew closer to her fingertips, even when she was tired. Her vapor grew thicker, darker, as if it too was gaining strength.

And yet her old frustrations had been replaced by new ones—which was, she supposed, a sign of progress. Now she was able to hit the punching bag somewhat reliably with her magical attacks—but she wasn’t exactly excelling at the simple spells Emris had urged her to practice. The spells were like little poems, matched with rituals, and Lena didn’t understand how or why they worked—or why they had to be so fiddly.

“You’re really improving,” Emris said on the second evening, holding his hand over the steaming bowl of water Lena had heated by magic. She felt a flush of pride at the cold burn of her magic in the pit of her stomach. A couple of days ago, it had felt odd, uncontrollable, disconcerting—but now it was growing familiar … even mildly comforting. Like a cool shadow against firelight, it flickered and shifted against the heat of her body.

“You really think so?” she asked.

He nodded. “It’s not quite boiling, but it’s close. Now let’s try the floating spell before we finish for the day—you haven’t attempted this one before, so it’s a true test of your ability to follow instructions. And if you can master this, you’ve taken the first step toward successfully creating a godspeed charm.”

He led her to the next table along in the practice hall, where he’d set up a bowl of plucked feathers from the kitchen and instructions written in his own cramped, spiky script.

She leaned over the table and read through them carefully.

Place your hand over the feathers. The feathers are the anchor into which you will weave the spell’s heart.

Speak: By the power of Faul, I command thee to rise. I command thee to rise. I command thee to rise.

As you speak, weave a light into the feathers in the bowl, and lift.