The music began for another dance, and couples moved toward the floor again.
“I see.” Prince Colin smoothed the sleeves of his jacket. “That’s not what I was expecting to hear, but if you decide to change your answer, the offer stands until”—he seemed to think—“winter solstice eve.”
The day before Tobiah and Meredith got married.
“Good evening, Your Highness.” With that, he slithered off to harass someone else.
Manners dictated I stay until the twenty-third hour, so I dodged questioning glances and spent time with the buffet, which would never be the same after Carl and Connor. But as soon as the clock struck, I found Tobiah—who was speaking with his mother, Meredith, and her parents—and offered my congratulations before I left. And because he was already engaged in conversation, he could not pursue me.
Sergeant Ferris, of course, strode only two paces behind me. “Your Highness, it’s not my place to ask—”
“Then don’t ask.”
He was silent the rest of the way to my door, and there he bade me good night.
It was there, on the interior side of my door, that I found a black envelope pinned to the wood. It was thick with paper: a long reply to my last note to him.
A bubble of laughter formed in my chest as I freed the letter and found a chair by a light.
Wilhelmina,
James is always telling secrets about me, isn’t he? Though some truly are lies. You’ve seen me fight with a sword. And have you ever seen me chew with my mouth open? No, not once. What a horrible gossip James is. Why are we friends? I’ll have to begin searching for a new best friend. If you’re interested in applying for the position, I’ll need your referrals and a testimony of your honesty—
Never mind. You would simply forge yours, if indeed you could even be bothered to apply. I suppose I will have to continue as I have been, suffering James’s company.
In spite of his history of scandalous lies, he was correct about my interest in magic.
Until I met you—in Skyvale, not as children—my stance was unwavering, as you know. But my stance did not diminish my interest in the subject, though I was forced to hide my fascination with such an unsavory topic.
Once, the world existed on magic. Factories employed appropriately skilled radiants to produce clothes or furniture or building supplies. Farms hired them to plant crops or encourage growth, and then assist with the harvest and distribution. Shops kept employees who could spot the dishonest to prevent thievery. It seems to me that relatively not long ago—for history is long—radiants were coveted people and those who didn’t possess magic were mere second class. What a sight it must have been two hundred years ago, when radiants built Skyvale Palace and shaped the foundations of the city with just waves of their hands. The legacy of magic is feats we may never again accomplish without its aid.
Plumbing and lighting originally installed in the palace and mansions all over the Indigo Kingdom have been made useful once again, with new technology that doesn’t require magic. That is an impressive feat of its own, and one I don’t want to diminish, but how can it compare to what once was?
Even further, while those major magical accomplishments are certainly something to admire—under the light of the past, rather than today’s nonmagical standards—I am even more impressed when I imagine the smaller ways the lives of our ancestors were affected by magic. Imagine: pens that didn’t need to be re-inked, paper that absorbed the likeness of a person as though a master artist had painted their portrait, lights that illuminated the moment someone walked into a room. Imagine a blade that never dulled, a mask that never slipped, or a device that distorted one’s voice just enough to disguise it without making it sound unnatural.
That world of magic and convenience is fascinating to me.
Perhaps I was born in the wrong time. Two hundred years ago, my interests would not have been so forbidden. Indeed, I would have been able to study openly, without embarrassment. I’m not embarrassed that you know—I’m glad James told you—but I wish I’d been able to tell you myself.
I wonder what you would have used your magic for if you’d lived two hundred years ago, too. In those days, Aecor and the Indigo Kingdom were on much more friendly terms, so no doubt we would have grown up as companions.
With deep affection,
Tobiah
I moved to my desk to write back, taking my time as I selected smooth paper and glossy ink. My choice for nib was easier: I took a pointy, flexible nib that would give me wide swells on the downstrokes, and fine hairlines on the upstrokes.
James had tasked me with continuing my search for my own handwriting, and I intended to practice until I was satisfied. Writing calmed me, and by the time the maid arrived to help me out of my gown—and tut over the ink smears on my fingers—I felt almost at ease.