The Mage points his silver-tipped wand at Baz, but Simon grabs it and holds it against his own heart. “No,” he says to Baz—or maybe to the Mage. “Stop!”
The three of them twist and stumble. The Mage is covered in blood, and Baz’s mouth is full of teeth.
“Give it to me!” the Mage shouts at Simon. Does he mean his wand?
“It’s gone!” Simon cries, using the wand to hold himself up. “It’s all gone!”
The Mage pushes his wand into Simon’s chest. “Give it to me!”
Baz yanks at the Mage’s hair, pulling him back.
“Stop!” Simon cries. “It’s gone! It’s over!”
No one is listening to him.
I hold out my ring hand and speak as loudly and clearly as I ever have, letting my magic rise up from the empty pit of my stomach—“Simon says!”
Simon’s next words ring out, dense with magic—“Stop it, stop hurting me!”
The Mage jerks away from him, then sags in Baz’s arms.
Baz steps back, confused, and lets the Mage drop to the floor. Then Baz reaches for Simon, but Simon is kneeling over the Mage, grasping at his chest.
“I … I think he’s dead. Penny! I think I killed him. Oh God,” Simon sobs. “Oh Merlin. Penny!”
I’m still shaking, but I crawl across the room towards them. “It’s okay, Simon.”
“It’s not okay—the Mage is dead. Why is he dead?”
I don’t know why he’s dead.
I don’t know what’s happening.
“Maybe that’s the only way he could stop hurting you,” I say.
“But I didn’t mean to kill him!” Simon cries, holding the Mage up, his arms around his back.
“Technically, it was Bunce who killed him,” Baz says, but he says it gently, and there are tears in his eyes.
“He’s dead,” Simon says. “The Mage is dead.”
84
LUCY
I didn’t know that something was wrong; I’d never been pregnant before. And no one had ever been pregnant with you, Simon.
The books say that you’ll feel butterfly wings and twitches. A quickening. I felt so much more.
I felt you humming inside me. Busy and bright. I felt flushed from my belly to my fingertips.
Davy never left my side. He cooked for me. He cast blessings over us both.
And maybe you’ll think that kindness was just for the ritual’s sake. But I think he cared for me. I think he cared for you.…
I think he wanted us both standing beside him in the bright future he was building. A new World of Mages.
*
Pregnant women are always tired.
They can’t hold down their meals. They feel peaked and light-headed.
One day I went out to feed our new chickens, and I realized I couldn’t get back to the house. I didn’t have enough energy to take another step.
I dropped to my knees, then leaned slowly forward, trying to protect you. Then I felt my lights blinking out.
Davy was inside, taking a nap. When he woke up, he found me there, red and thirsty. He carried me into the house, ranting about what could have happened and why I hadn’t cast for help. But my magic had gone thin—it’d been weeks since I cast a spell. When I’d tried lately, it felt like I was knocking on a hollow box. Everything that was there before just wasn’t anymore.
Everyone’s magic goes a bit wonky when they’re pregnant.
I felt better the next morning.
And worse the next.
The pulling in my stomach had gotten stronger, like a crank that kept tightening. I felt like I couldn’t stay in the cottage, but I couldn’t make it to the door.
“He needs air,” I told Davy, and he didn’t argue.
He took me out to the empty garden and lay with me in the grass. I needed to feel the ground beneath me, and the air, and the sun.
“Better,” I told Davy, still feeling the crank turn.
*
When I was alone, I talked to you.
I told you about your family. About your grandparents. The cottage. About Watford, where your father and I met.
I named you.
“Simon,” I said to Davy. We knew you were a boy then.
“All right,” he said. “Why?”
“It’s a good name, it’s a wise name.”
“Is it a saviour’s name?”