“You are far more than that.”
His words stirred a memory. The morning after he attacked me in my rooms, he had said, I know what you are. Not I know who you are—but what you are.
“And what am I?” I held my breath, not sure I wanted the answer.
“You are chimera. Two souls in one body.”
Silence exploded in the carriage.
Perfectly composed, Pál continued to watch me. Ginny edged away from me, as though my dual-souledness were catching. Noémi looked out the window, as if Pál’s words exposed a secret shame and she wished to give me privacy. Grandmama’s hand fluttered up, like she might reach for me, then fell back to her lap.
Chimera.
Like Pandora, who had broken the world.
I shuddered, unease prickling my skin. Two souls. I had always thought of myself as Anna: impassioned, restless, stubborn, sometimes contradictory—yes, all those—but still Anna. Still one entity, at heart, one soul that would eventually die and, perhaps, stand before her God. But two? Two souls made me monstrous, inhuman. The doubled reflection I had seen all my life began to make sense, though the sense was hardly comforting.
Pál continued, oblivious to my distress. “A Luminate spell works as the caster draws the magic into his soul before pushing it into his charm with his will. But as you have two souls, when you draw magic into your souls, they repel one another, much as magnets pushed same side together. A spell with such instability at its heart cannot hold. Thus, you cannot cast spells, and the Circle believed you Barren.”
“How, then, do I break spells?” I could scarcely choke the words out.
“When you were Confirmed, you were connected to the Binding, and that connection creates an innate longing for magic. Oh yes,” he said, seeing my surprise, “your Confirmation did take. That’s why you can reach the magic to break spells. But you cannot wield magic; thus your souls constantly thirst after it. When you are strongly moved, you instinctively grasp for the nearest magic. If a spell is being cast, you pull the magic from that spell into you—and of course the spell cannot hold, and it shatters.”
A series of shocks burst through my body. This. This is how I destroyed Catherine’s spells. Why I had nearly killed Gábor’s niece. How I broke the spell at Sárvár. And how I might break the Binding. This is why the Circle feared me, why Lady Berri had sought me out.
“Why did no one tell me?”
“No one else could have known. No one sees as I do. And there has not been a Luminate chimera for centuries.”
A second question, quieter. “Why did you not tell the Circle?”
Pál smiled, but it was a smile like Hunger wore, as though he were not entirely certain how humans ought to smile. “Why should I tell them? I owe them nothing. Besides, I rather think I should like to see what a broken Binding unleashes.”
I turned away, trying not to see my faint doubled reflection in the glass as I watched the houses and fields flashing past. All I could think of was my extra soul, like an invisible twin trapped in my body. My skin crawled. I scratched at the flesh exposed above my glove. Had I been alone, I would have torn my clothes off and scraped at my entire body. The hand rubbing at my skin felt like that of a stranger.
All my life I believed being Barren was the worst curse one could wish on a Luminate.
But I was wrong. There was something worse.
Chimera.
I do not know what the others discussed to fill those long miles while I wrestled in my heart and soul—souls—to understand Pál’s revelation. When we stopped at length at a small csárda in Szentendre, I went straight to the room I was to share with Noémi and lay down upon the straw mattress. I wanted to weep, to wash away the strangeness of it all, but my eyes were dry and my heart cold.
Ginny brought me a bit of bread and meat, which I did not touch. Instead, I watched the shadows creep across the floor, and when darkness filled the room, Noémi came in and lay down beside me.
“Anna.”
I said nothing.
She propped herself up on one elbow so she could look at me. “Anna. It’s all right. There is nothing wrong with you.”
Except for my extra soul. Could one be twice damned with two souls? I didn’t move.
“Anna.” Noémi tried again. “I’m sorry.”
This time I did look at her, rolling onto my back to stare up at her. I had never heard Noémi apologize before. “For what?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I’ve been so prickly.” Noémi let her breath out in a sigh. “The truth is—you are the closest thing I have to a sister. And I don’t want whatever has happened to fester between us. I need you. And I think you might need me too.”
Something broke in me. The tears I’d wanted earlier came gushing, spilling down my cheeks. I sat up, and Noémi held me while I cried and she cried with me, and then, as suddenly as the tears had come, they ceased, and we both began to laugh helplessly. Anyone hearing us might have supposed us mad. But if I were to label the feeling in that small room, I would call it relief.
Whatever happened next, we would not have to endure it alone.
While Noémi snored softly beside me, my mind whirred. Pet?fi might be able to rouse a few hundred or even thousand to fight, but without Luminates it would not be enough. Tomorrow, the executions would begin. A thick dread clutched at my heart and stomach.
I thought of the Binding. I could break it—I could do as Lady Berri had wished, as Papa wished. And what would I unleash on the world? I remembered the imps in the tower, the snarled sisters in the wood. But if I did not act, could I let the others die? We needed an army, and I could think of only one way to raise it: barter with Hunger, an army of creatures in exchange for their freedom.
In the darkness of my room, I stared down the smallness of my soul—my souls. There was no courage, no hope, only a wretched sense of self-preservation. I wanted to curl up in my bed, pull the covers over my head, and wake to a restored world. I wanted to be safe and comfortable. I did not want to decide anyone’s life or death. I told myself it would not be my action that killed them—but I could not hide from the succeeding thought: if my friends die through my inaction, I am still at fault.
I let myself scream into my pillow, once, twice, at the injustice of it all. This was not supposed to be my life. My story was not supposed to end this way, with a deadly, impossible choice. I was supposed to find my way back to society, to sweep triumphantly in on the wings of revolution to some greatness.
Not fail miserably in the quiet of a rented room.
Tears stung at my eyes, but I blinked them away. Words floated back to me, my conversation with Hunger the second time I’d tried to break the Binding: If I set you free, is this what I unleash on the world?