He finally reached the top step, pausing to take three long breaths to calm his heart. He wiped the sweat from his face, not wanting Jane to see him so weak. After a very long minute, he finally crossed the stone landing and knocked on her wooden door.
It disappeared in a swipe from left to right, as if it had slid into the stone. It was only a trick, however, a manipulation of Chi’karda. Jane loved using her power for such trivial things, always opening her doors in creative and unexpected ways. One time she’d simply made it explode outward in a spray of dagger-like splinters, permanently scarring the poor sap delivering her mail.
Jane stood there, dressed in a simple yellow gown, her feet and hands bare. Her emerald eyes shone, almost glowing like green embers. Something was off, though. For a second, Frazier couldn’t figure out why she looked so odd, but then it hit him.
Jane had a layer of stubble growing across her head, tiny black sprouts of hair. Never—not once since he’d first met her so long ago—had Frazier ever seen so much as one hair on her head. She’d always insisted on baldness for some mysterious reason. Frazier balked and looked toward the floor, almost as if he’d caught her unawares coming out of the bath.
“Good morning, Mistress,” he said, keeping his eyes down. “I’ve come to report the latest on the Barrier Wand, and to, uh, report some interesting news.”
“Frazier, dear Frazier,” Jane said, her voice soft. “Please, come in.”
He looked up to see she had moved aside, gesturing toward her large, yellow velvet couch, beside which a fresh fire burned in the comforting hearth, its bricks freshly painted her favorite color. Clearing his throat, using every ounce of his will to avoid a single glance at her head, Frazier stepped past her and took a seat, sinking into the wonderfully comfortable cushions.
Mistress Jane sat next to him on his right, crossing her legs so that she faced him only a foot away. The fire reflected in her bright eyes, seeming to ignite them into some odd, molten metal. Frazier didn’t like this. No, he didn’t like this one bit.
“Frazier,” Jane said, reaching out to caress his arm, just once, before clasping her hands in her lap. “I know people are talking about me—about my . . . change.”
Frazier cleared his throat, faked a cough, hoping to buy time. He didn’t know how to respond to this. “Um, yes, Mistress, the servants have said some very . . . um, nice things about you. They are, of course, very grateful when you, uh, show them kindness.” He stopped; every word that came out of his mouth sounded worse than the one before it.
“Kindness?” she said with a disgusted tone, as if the word were a highly contagious disease. “That’s the best they can come up with? That’s how they honor my attempts to elevate my leadership skills?”
“Well,” he said, doing his best to speak clearly without stuttering. “No, I meant, well, I just meant they’re noticing your efforts, saying many different words—all very glowing words, actually. Your esteem has skyrocketed in their eyes. In, uh, mine, too.”
Jane folded her arms, glaring directly into Frazier’s eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid, Frazier?”
She’s going to kill me, he thought. Right now, after all these years, she’s going to kill me because she’s finally gone completely and totally insane.
“Stupid?” he repeated. “Of course I don’t think you’re stupid.”
Jane leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Then don’t speak to me like I’m stupid.”
She sat back, looking at the fire, her face expressionless. After several seconds, Frazier followed her gaze and caught his breath.
Several burning logs had floated up into the air and out of the main hearth, hovering above a rug made from the skin of a scallywag beast. Sparks and hot cinders fell from the logs, igniting several long hairs of the soft fur, which flared and died out quickly. A mess of white ash flew up from the fireplace, swirling around the flames in midair in fancy patterns, spelling words and making faces. Frazier felt a familiar icy fear in his gut, thinking of such power in the hands of a woman as unstable as Mistress Jane.
With a hiss and crackle, the whole show collapsed back into the fireplace; in seconds, it looked like the fire hadn’t been disturbed at all.
“Now,” Jane said, folding her arms and returning her focus to Frazier. “I know people are worried that my attempts to change are insincere. If anything, they seem more frightened of me than ever. Correct?”
Frazier nodded, not daring to say a word.