Ling nodded. “All I knew for certain was that the spy was someone close to you. So I got the inner circle together, and said that the Arrow of Judgment was working. I hoped that would be enough to scare the spy into confessing. And it was.”
“You broke through another silence, Ling. A very dangerous one. Thank you. You saved many lives.”
“And condemned one.”
Ling rested her head against Sera’s, and Sera took comfort knowing that someone else shared her burden. A moment later, Ling squeezed Sera’s arm, then left.
Sera swam to the niche in the cave’s wall where the talismans were kept and stowed the puzzle ball safely away.
Sera had done the right thing; she knew she had—even if it was also a hard thing.
Squaring her shoulders, she started for the cave’s opening, determined to get some work done. What had just happened was horrible, but it was time to move on. A regina could not afford to be idle, not when there was a battle to plan.
Sera took a stroke toward the cave’s doorway, and then another, and then she sat down in the silt, covered her face with her hands, and wept.
ASTRID WAS GONE, lost in the music. Her head was tilted back, her eyes were closed, her arms outstretched. She was songcasting.
Water, hear this binding spell,
And from the inky depths upwell.
Currents strong and vast and deep,
Over banks and shores now leap.
As she sang, water swirled together into a column in the center of the conservatory, directly under the amethyst dome. Her voice rose, full and strong, as she finished the spell.
Tides and waves, hear my command,
Burst your boundaries, flood the land.
Water clear and water blue,
Rise up now, and split in two!
The pillar of water shot upward and parted, curving away from the dome in two graceful, flowing arcs. Astrid held the notes and opened her eyes, watching the water fountain down to the floor, feeling proud, happy, and powerful.
She’d had a fleeting taste of power when Orfeo had allowed her to hold the black pearl, and that taste had sparked a desire for more. She thought of little else now other than how to obtain it.
Her throat was healed, and her voice was growing stronger. She practiced for hours a day, every day, to build it up.
Late at night, she would flop into her bed, exhausted, and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. When the first rays of the sun slanted through the waters into her window, she would rise and hurry back to the conservatory, her newfound craving driving her to learn more, to excel.
There were moments, as she drifted off to sleep, when a voice deep inside her reminded her of her quest.
When will you take the black pearl? Your friends are waiting.
“I’m not ready,” she would whisper. “I need to learn more spells. I need to become stronger. How else can I defeat Orfeo?” If that didn’t quiet the voice, she would softly songcast, swirling the water around in her room, or making the anemones in her bed glow. She couldn’t hear anything else when she was making magic.
As she was doing now.
Fall back to the banks,
Fall back from the shore,
Radiant water, surge forward no more.
Calm and untroubled, I ask you to be,
Return to your depths now, from river or sea.
As the last notes of songspell faded, Astrid heard applause coming from the doorway. She turned around, smiling.
It was Orfeo, leaning against the doorjamb. He’d been listening.
“Magnificent!” he said, walking in. “Even better than yesterday. You’re making astonishing progress.”
Astrid blushed, self-conscious, but pleased, too. Her own father had never praised her so lavishly, even when she was younger and had her singing voice. She had been starved of approval for most of her life and now found that she hungered for Orfeo’s.
It unsettled her, to look to him for praise. He was treacherous and cruel, wasn’t he? Not the sort she should be looking to for encouragement. But she reassured herself that there was no harm in it—not if she intended to turn all that she was learning against him. Which she was. In a few days. A few weeks, at most.
“Thank you,” she said shyly. “But it’s the songspell, not me. It’s amazing. It’s from the River Nile and super old.”
Orfeo nodded. “I knew the songcaster who created it: Anuket, goddess of the Nile.”
“Seriously?” Astrid said. It was amazing to her that Orfeo had known a river goddess.
“Seriously,” Orfeo said, smiling. “Anuket used that spell to push the Nile over its banks. The rich silt left behind by the floods made the land fertile, and the Egyptians prosperous. The spell’s a good one to have in your repertoire.”
“I’ll do it again,” Astrid said. “I didn’t sustain that high C in the fifth measure. Watch me, Orfeo. Listen. Tell me if I get it right.”
Orfeo’s smile broadened into a laugh, one full of pleasure and pride. “I will watch you, child, but tomorrow, perhaps. I interrupted you because I have something to give you—something very important. It will further the progress you’re making.”