“Someone has been spreading lies about you,” Caleb said. “And it started fairly recently.”
Not that recently, Emily thought. She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. If she had to hear one more ballad about herself, she was going to show the poor minstrel precisely how Shadye had died. The most popular ballads were the ones that bore no resemblance to the truth. But if someone has been building on it ...
“Fuck,” she said, numbly. She wasn’t sure how to handle this new problem. “What do I do?”
Caleb shrugged. “Concentrate on doing a good job,” he suggested. “And ignore everything else.”
“Hah,” Emily muttered.
“But try to spend some time with Frieda,” Caleb advised. “She probably needs a friendly ear. And maybe a kick up the backside.”
“I’ll try.” Emily rose, feeling irked. She could hex anyone who insulted her to her face, but it was harder to fight back against an anonymous enemy. The only thing in her favor was that it was unlikely anyone senior would pay too much attention to rumors. Anyone who was anyone had their own sources of information. “And thanks, I suppose.”
“You’re welcome,” Caleb said.
He looked down, just for a second. “I know ... I know things ended badly,” he added. His voice was very quiet. “But ...”
Emily felt cold. Was he going to ask her out again? And what would she say if he did?
“If you need a friendly ear, I will listen.” Caleb met her eyes. “I can’t promise much, but I will listen.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. She felt another rush of affection. Perhaps there was hope for their friendship after all. “That means a lot to me.”
Chapter Nineteen
“YOU’RE NOT CONCENTRATING,” SAMRA SAID, SHARPLY. “Focus!”
Emily gritted her teeth as she looked back at the mirror. It hadn’t been a pleasant couple of days. Caleb had been right. No one had said anything to her face—unsurprisingly—but she’d caught a lot of sidelong glances from younger students. Most of the Sixth Years seemed above it, yet both Jacqui and Cerise had been questioning her orders and rules in the dueling club often enough to make her want to throw in the towel and give them the job.
“It isn’t easy to focus,” she said. She’d looked for Frieda, but her younger friend had been nowhere to be found. There hadn’t even been time to arrange a meeting during dueling club. “I need to ...”
“Stop whining,” Samra said. “Focus!”
Emily sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection seemed sharper, somehow; her eyes seemed tired, oddly unfocused. She stared until she felt the image starting to blur, strange sensations spinning around her until she felt as if she was looking at her body from the outside. Her heartbeat was thumping all around her, a steady thump-thump-thump that kept her focused on her body. She could see herself ...
... The vision blurred around her, as if she was trying to present herself in a way she could comprehend. Her mind was a library, a vast repository of knowledge; her thoughts were librarians, moving from shelf to shelf. She smiled softly, remembering the days she’d considered becoming a librarian. There weren’t many people she missed, back on Earth, but the librarian in her hometown was one. She’d let Emily stay until closing hour and never asked any inconvenient questions. Emily would forgive a great deal in exchange for peace and privacy. The woman had been a gem ...
... Her thoughts spun backwards and forwards, clearly visible. The oath she’d sworn to the Unseelie Court was still there, just inactive. She shivered, knowing that one day that debt would come due. She owed them ... something. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to make the choice between doing something terrible and letting the oath kill her. It was difficult, very difficult, to break a sworn oath and survive. It was impossible to do it and know you’d done it ...
... She saw herself, clearly. The truths and the lies, things she didn’t mind sharing and things she wanted to forget, the attractions she didn’t want to admit, the revulsions she knew she should never have felt, all the little compromises she’d made ... she knew herself. She stood in front of herself, mentally naked. Her thoughts hummed, suggesting little improvements ... she pushed that thought aside, hard. Meddling with her own mind might be utterly disastrous. It was certainly not something to try ...
Emily pulled back, opening her eyes. When had she closed them? She wasn’t sure.
“That was ... that was odd.” She lifted a hand and studied it, just for a moment. It looked oddly translucent, as if her skin had turned to jelly. She blinked, hard. The illusion vanished. “I ... I saw myself.”
“And now you know what everyone else knows about you,” Samra said. “You can’t hide from yourself any longer.”
Emily thought she understood, but she wasn’t sure. Yes, she’d been attracted to people she shouldn’t have been attracted to; yes, she’d been repulsed by people for petty reasons, reasons she was ashamed to admit ...
When one is guided by emotion, one must understand the reason behind one’s emotion, she thought. Lady Barb had said that, years ago. But one must understand that an emotional response is not necessarily an invalid response.
“I think so,” she said, doubtfully. She could feel her own thoughts pulsing inside her head, as if she’d acquired a second heartbeat. It was an odd, somewhat unpleasant sensation. “Do I have to do it again?”
“Not for a while,” Samra said. “Those who seek to obtain a soul magics mastery—or even practice soul magics regularly—look in the mirror every day, just to ensure that they don’t lose touch with their thoughts. But you probably shouldn’t do it unless you intend to use soul magic.”
Emily felt oddly cheated. “Is that it? I mean ... are we done?”
“No.” Samra met Emily’s eyes. “Do you remember what I told you about abusing the magics?”
“You said you’d kill me,” Emily recalled.
“Yes.” Samra made no visible move, but the door opened anyway. “Melissa has volunteered to allow you to practice on her. She feels she owes you something. And if you betray her secrets, I will kill you.”
Emily looked up as Melissa strode through the door. The redhead looked as though she was trying to project an air of confidence, but even Emily could see she was having second—or perhaps third—thoughts. There was an ... edginess in her movements that worried Emily more than she cared to admit. Alassa’s old rival wasn’t precisely a friend, perhaps, but she wasn’t an enemy either.
“You will attempt to see her mind.” Samra rose in one smooth motion. “Melissa, be seated.”
Emily swallowed. “You don’t have to do this ...”
“Yes, she does,” Samra said. “Someone has to do this. And Melissa volunteered.”