Mia switched into translation mode. “Duj katt means ‘four gods’?”
Lauriel tipped her head back and let out a full, throaty laugh, her black curls dancing merrily. “Heavens no. Duj means goddess! Not god. Never god. We are Dujia, descendants of the goddesses. In the river kingdom, they call us demons, but here in the fire kingdom, we go by our true name.” Her eyes glittered. “We are angels. A sisterhood of angels descended from the Four Great Goddesses who gave birth to the four lands.”
“She won’t say four kingdoms,” Sach’a explained, “because she doesn’t believe in kings.”
“Kings are just men in paper hats.” Lauriel gestured toward the prince. “It just so happens that sometimes the paper is made of gold.”
“Gold crowns can be perfectly lovely,” Sach’a added, smiling shyly at Quin.
From upstairs Junay yelled, “Not when they’re worn by the king of Glas Ddir!”
Quin shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Seeing him like this, taciturn and reserved, reminded Mia of the prince she’d known in the castle. She felt more at home with the du Zols than she’d felt in ages, but she imagined he felt the opposite. As unhappy as he was in Kaer Killian, he did have power there; in Refúj he was powerless. Was he frightened? She listened for the rhythm of his pulse, but she couldn’t hear it.
Come to think of it, she couldn’t hear anyone’s pulse. Not even her own.
The absence of sensation unsettled her. She’d only been aware of her magic for a week, but already it had animated her blood and made it sing. The headaches were atrocious—she could do without those—but she had swiftly acclimated to the symphony of other heartbeats, the sweet harmony or discordant notes. Not hearing them now, engulfed in silence; it was lonely.
“I can’t feel anything,” she said.
“Of course you can’t.” Junay bounded back in holding a comb with heavy iron teeth. Mia flinched as Jun reached out her hand—other than her mother and sister, no woman had ever touched her hair without wearing gloves.
“For someone with curly hair,” Junay said, “you should really take better care of it.” She yanked the comb through her tangles so hard Mia cried out.
“Duj! Junay!” her mother reprimanded.
“What? You always told us sometimes beauty hurts.” She inflicted more brutalities on Mia’s scalp. “You can’t feel our pulse because of the uzoolion.”
She pointed at the doorway, and for the first time Mia noticed the border of blue stones: the same cerulean stone Dom wore around his neck. They continued past the doorframe and onto the floor, where they ringed the entire cottage in an unbroken line. There must have been thousands of stones pressed into the earth.
“It’s a boundary,” Sach’a explained. “To keep us safe.”
Mia got up from her chair—to the consternation of Junay—and stooped over the uzoolion. She ran a finger down the line of smooth blue stones and felt nothing. But that was just it. She felt nothing. Every time she’d touched her mother’s ruby wren, it ignited her blood, shook her to life. But when her fingers grazed the uzoolion, it was as if her blood had struck a wall.
“Uzool means ‘water,’” Mia murmured. She was stitching together a new theory: fojuen catalyzed magic, while uzoolion impeded it.
“We have a family rule,” Lauriel said. “No magic in the house. That way we can trust our own bodies, our own hearts.”
“Which means if someone is being obnoxious in this house,” Sach’a said, “it’s because they’re obnoxious.” She looked pointedly at her sister.
“Certain stones come with certain potencies,” Lauriel went on. “They can enhance or diminish magic. Some stones can even store it up. Fojuen is born in the vibrant, thrashing heart of a volqano. When Dujia wear the red glass, it amplifies their magic. It makes the heart pump faster and the blood flow quicker. If a Dujia has not yet bloomed, fojuen can usher the magic in more swiftly.”
So Mia’s theory was correct. Now she understood why, when she pressed the ruby wren to her chest, she’d experienced all manner of side effects, from headaches to heart palpitations to full-on fainting. It was no coincidence she had first enthralled Quin the same night she received her mother’s book—and the fojuen key that went with it. The little ruby wren was powerful.
“And uzoolion does the opposite,” Mia murmured.
Lauriel nodded. “Uzoolion weakens a Dujia’s magic. With enough of it”—she gestured to the stones trimming the cottage floor—“you can block magic entirely. If we wear uzoolion, we cannot be controlled by any Dujia who would seek to hurt us. Even a man who wears the stone can sense the presence of magic. A quiet tap, tap, tap.”
“I’m guessing this is why Dom wears uzoolion around his neck.”
“We all do.” Lauriel pulled a blue amulet from her blouse. “It keeps us safe.”
“Lauriel?” Mia’s voice was small. “Why wasn’t my mother wearing uzoolion the day she died?”
The room went very still. Even Junay was quiet.
“Darling, I don’t know.” Lauriel’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve asked myself that many times. If Wynna was with someone she trusted . . . someone whose magic brought her pleasure . . . someone she wanted to touch her . . .”
“Someone she loved,” Mia finished.
Lauriel wouldn’t meet her eye. Mia thought of all the evenings her mother had spent with Lauriel on the balcony of their cottage, talking, laughing, sipping blackthorn wine, and taking nips of the stronger spirits they smuggled in from Fojo. For the first time, a smoky coil of doubt ringed itself around her thoughts. She knew Wynna and Lauriel were best friends, but what if their relationship was something more?
“I did love your mother,” Lauriel said, as if she could read Mia’s thoughts. “But only as a friend. I was not the angel Wynna loved.”
Mia’s heart beat so hard it threatened to crack her sternum. The theory she’d hatched in the Twisted Forest was rekindling. “But you’re saying she did love someone. Someone who had magic.”
Lauriel stood and wiped her hands on her apron. Her curls were no longer dancing. “I’ve said too much.”
“Lauriel. Please. I’ve been searching for the Gwyr . . . the Dujia who killed my mother for the last three years. The journal was spurring me onward, leading me to this place. That can’t be a coincidence. If the woman who killed her is here . . . if she’s in Refúj . . .”
They stared at each other. Mia didn’t like not being able to sense the people around her; she couldn’t tell if Lauriel was lying. She couldn’t tell what anyone was feeling, not even herself.
“Duj katt.” Junay pinched the cod by the bony tail, lifted it into the air, and dropped it onto the plate with a slimy slap. “Who needs to hide a dead fish? The secrets in this house already stink.”
Lauriel shot her a warning look. “Junay.”
“Mam?e,” she mimicked. “She deserves to know! If you died, wouldn’t I deserve to know who killed you?”
She turned back to Mia. “I don’t know who did it, but I know who will. Ask Zaga. She knows everything. She probably has a whole roster of murderous angels in her secret cave.” Off Mia’s blank look, she added, “Go find my brother down at the lake. He’d be happy to take you to Zaga.”
“Why are you doing this, Jun?” Sach’a murmured.
Junay smiled beatifically at her twin. “Watch out for those obnoxious ones, Sach. We’re even more obnoxious when we tell the truth.”
Chapter 36
Meant for You
THE PATH TO THE lake was a carpet of soft red sand, studded with low, dry brush. Mia felt better once she was beyond the reach of the uzoolion. As the sun sweated in the morning sky, her blood was making music inside her again.
Lauriel had pleaded with her not to go—“not yet, not until you’re ready”—but the moment Junay had given her a destination, they all knew there would be no debate. Mia had pushed her chair back from the table and left without another word.
“Mia?” Quin easily caught up to her on his long legs. “Do you really think this is a good choice?”