“Oh.” She swallowed visibly, looking suddenly smaller within her cloak. “I...I’m not sure there are any other books in my house. But perhaps...perhaps if I can find a way into Lord Cosgrave’s library, or...”
“Better not steal them from our host,” I said gently. “That wouldn’t put you on the right foot at all. And fortunately, you shouldn’t have to.” As she looked at me in open bafflement, I shook my head at her. “I am saying, Miss Banks, that I will send you all the books that you require. I have plenty, nowadays...and as you know, I can’t use any of them myself anymore.”
“But...” She surprised me by frowning with open disapproval. “What if you do need them again in the future, Miss Harwood? If you ever regain your ability to cast spells, or—”
“Trust me,” I said through gritted teeth. “That won’t be happening.”
The look on her face was unbearable. I spun on one heel and looked across the snowy knot garden, taking deep, bracing breaths of cold air. Snow swept into my mouth and against my cheeks as I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest.
“They’ll teach you at the Library,” I told her, “never to cast certain spells alone. There are a few that are famously too much for just one person. And when you throw yourself into a great spell like that—when you apply all of your own power to it, as you must—it can sweep you away to your own undoing.” My lips twisted. “That’s what separates us from the elves, you see. Their power is intrinsic and tied into the land. Ours... We’re only human. We can touch magic, if we have enough skill and enough training, but we can’t always control it. We have to know our limits and respect them—or be broken.”
There was a moment of near-silence as the snow fell around us in a soft, whispering hiss. A nearby hedge creaked softly as its branches bent under the weight of snow.
Then Miss Banks finally spoke, her voice quiet. “Why did you do it, then?”
More snow trickled down my cheeks, forming thin, cold paths across my skin. “I was stupid,” I said flatly.
“But you’re clearly not.” Miss Banks stepped closer, her voice sharpening. “Miss Harwood, really. You forced the Great Library to admit you, breaking all of their previous rules and traditions. And I’ve heard other magicians speaking of you. You were the best student of your year.”
“That’s...not quite fair.” I winced. “Wrexham and I always battled for that top spot, actually. Depending on the year and exam, either one of us—”
“It was Mr. Wrexham who told me so, last night.”
“Well.” My lips stretched into a humorless smile. “That was kind of him. But.” I shrugged convulsively, trying to thrust the whole formless mess of four months ago off my shoulders.
How could I explain it all to her, anyway? How everything had piled together until I couldn’t breathe and I’d been ready to risk everything just to break free of the invisible ropes holding me back.
How I’d graduated with top honors, just as I’d always dreamed I would...and then everything had suddenly stopped.
Oh, I’d had my magic, certainly—no one could deny me that anymore. I’d had all my shining awards and certificates to wave in the faces of anyone who’d dared to try. Everyone accepted that I was a real magician now, for all that I was back home, not at the Library anymore. And yet...
Somehow, whenever the Boudiccate had an opening in the ranks of their officers of magic, I was never, ever the one chosen to fill it, no matter how shining my awards at the Library might have been—and no matter how passionately my own fiancé fought for my inclusion after his own appointment came directly upon his graduation.
When the Great Library advertised for a new lecturer earlier this year, I wasn’t even among the seven candidates invited to interview for the position, despite all the work that I’d poured into my application...and all my articles on magical research that their own journal had published over the years.
Every time one of those articles had been published, I’d celebrated what I’d na?vely seen as a true achievement. But none of them had turned out to matter after all. Because like it or not—published or not, skilled or not—I would always be known as that singular oddity, the woman magician...and apparently, not one of those awards or articles was enough to overturn all of Angland’s oldest traditions and prove that I was, after all, suited for a role that had belonged solely to men for centuries.
So I’d had to do something even more magnificent. Something that would show them that I couldn’t be ignored, left to molder in safe invisibility on my family estate with my awards and certificates while my classmates moved on to acclaim and active magical careers.
A spell that everyone knew one magician alone could never cast...
Well, everyone “knew” that a woman could never do magic either, didn’t they?
I said, “Even the cleverest magician can make mistakes. Obviously.”
I’d planned for Wrexham to be the witness to my triumph, to swear on it for me to his superiors. But of course I hadn’t told him what I’d planned. I’d known that he would never agree to such a risk. So I’d begun the spell just before he’d been due to arrive for his planned visit, knowing that he would be too late to stop me.
And the expression on his face as he’d raced across the room to catch me, just as the spell ripped through my bones and I began that burning, tearing slide into oblivion...
I hadn’t opened my eyes again for another two days after that. But when I had, he’d been the first thing I’d seen, sitting slumped by my sickbed with his head buried in his hands in unmistakable despair.
I’d known that I was risking myself when I cast that spell. But I hadn’t truly understood, when I’d made the decision, just how badly I could hurt him, too.
Now I drew a deep, icy breath, letting the memory sink back through me.
I won’t make that mistake again.
“What you have to understand,” I told Miss Banks, “is that it isn’t a matter of proving yourself once and being done with it. Being admitted to the Great Library won’t grant you your classmates’ respect. And graduating from it won’t force anyone else to treat you the way they would treat a gentleman magician.”
“Then I’ll have to keep on fighting,” she said. “Miss Fennell will, too.” Her small jaw squared. “Don’t worry, Miss Harwood. We know it won’t be an easy battle. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not worth fighting.”
“No,” I said quietly. “It certainly doesn’t.” From somewhere deep inside me, I found a true smile. “I look forward to witnessing your achievements. And we will find you your magic books, I promise. But in the meantime...” A shiver rippled through me, and I startled myself with a laugh. “What do you say I teach you a real spell? One that can actually give us some warmth in this wretched weather?”
“Really?” Miss Banks’s face lit up. “Oh will you, Miss Harwood? Please?”
Yesterday, I’d restrained myself with all my might from telling Lord Cosgrave how to cast the spell of warmth with more precision. Today, I said to Miss Banks with utter sincerity, “I would love to.”