Then her gaze grew vacant. She stared past him, focusing on some invisible point far in the distance. “I sense ice on familiar pathways, threatening to make you slip. Your boots are new and don’t grip the frosty ground as well as you’d like them to. Slipping would make you look a fool in front of your classmates, and you can’t have that, can you?”
Magnus’s eyebrows raised as she deftly explained something that had happened less than a month ago. He’d since had the palace cobbler put different soles on his new leather boots, much more suitable for Limeros’s frigid climate.
She didn’t wait for a confirmation. “Now I see a maze . . . a labyrinth . . . perched upon the highest cliff in the kingdom. It’s chiseled from thousands of blocks of ice, so beautiful as it catches the light. You think it’s nearly as beautiful as the one it was gifted to, someone close to you. Yes, I sense that she’s the reason you feel such urgency to return to your home. She’s family, but to you she’s more than family.”
“My sister,” he found himself saying, the image of Lucia clear in his mind. The king was not as cruel and unbending toward her as he was toward Magnus, but Magnus still didn’t want to leave her all alone in the palace without his protection.
Lucia didn’t know he’d made it a priority to watch over her, but he had. As she grew older, she grew more beautiful—bringing unworthy suitors scratching at the doors of the palace, seeking a betrothal to the princess.
It was sickening, really. She was barely fifteen years old and much preferred talk of books to talk of boys.
Magnus hoped it would remain that way forever.
“Tell me,” Magnus asked, brushing his fingers against his scarred cheek, wishing to test Samara’s seemingly impressive abilities. “Can you see how I got this?”
Samara’s gaze remained distant, but her brows drew together. “A moment of childhood curiosity as you discovered a dark secret of the past—and the memories it stirred summoned pain . . . pain for both of you.”
Magnus frowned. “Trust me, the one who gave me this felt no pain in his actions—only embarrassment for a son who’s never risen to his impossibly high expectations and likely never will.”
“So much pain,” Samara said, nodding, as if she hadn’t heard a word he said. “So many shadows to navigate in the gathering darkness. But I see a light—a golden light as bright as the sun that you will be drawn to without a choice. You will resist, but you will fail. Be careful, though. Moths are also drawn to flames.”
Magnus withdrew his hand from the woman’s, and her gaze finally cleared. She blinked a few times.
“Fascinating, really,” he said without much enthusiasm. “Did you see what you needed to? You made no mention of the old woman.”
She regarded him for a second in silence, then she nodded. “I saw enough.” Without another word, she turned to Maddox. “Now it’s your turn.”
Maddox had watched all of this in silence, his eyes wide. “Me?”
“Yes.” She reached out and took his hand in hers. “Look at me.”
He nodded, not giving her nearly as much resistance as Magnus had. Magnus held back any curt words to hurry this along and tried to summon what little patience he had left.
Drawn to a golden light as bright as the sun.
A moth to a flame.
What absolute drivel.
Maddox watched the woman, the anticipation of this fortune-telling clear on his young face. “What do you see?” he asked.
Samara frowned a little. “I see a man you despise but are forced to travel with. I see a mother who worries, a mother who keeps so many secrets that she’s forgotten how to trust anyone. I see . . . a snake that will solve one of your troubles.”
“A snake?” Maddox said, scrunching his nose.
“I see someone whose life will touch yours, a traveler from a land far from here.”
“Is it a girl?” Magnus asked. “Perhaps he will be the moth drawn to her dangerous flame?”
Maddox’s cheeks reddened. “Quiet.”
Samara, her gaze distant, smiled now. “I see much adventure in your future, Maddox Corso, and I see . . .” Her smile faded. “I see . . .” A strangled gasp caught in her throat.
“What?” Magnus drew closer to her, alarmed by her strange reaction to the boy. “What do you see?”
Her mouth was open, moving, but no sound came out. Her neck jerked back and forth. Magnus reached out and held her shoulders, trying to steady her, but she was rigid to the touch.
Then she blinked, and when she opened her eyes, they had turned pitch black.
Magnus was on his feet in an instant, his chair screeching. “Let go of him, witch!”
Samara released Maddox’s hand and shot up to her feet, staggering backward. She pressed her hand against her eyes, her chest heaving.
“What’s wrong with her?” Maddox’s voice shook.
Magnus put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I don’t know.”
When Samara pulled her hands away from her face, her eyes had returned to their regular shade—an indigo blue. Her gaze fixed on Maddox, and there was no friendly curiosity there anymore.
There was only naked fear.
She pointed at the door. “I want you to leave.”
“Me?” Maddox stood up, looking at Magnus with confusion. Magnus could only shrug at him.