Confronting the most powerful mardushka to come out of Morcant in a century required a careful, step-by-step plan. Nine years ago, Lorelai had challenged the queen, and her father had paid the price because Lorelai hadn’t thought through every possible way her plan could go wrong.
She wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
“I bartered for these from an Eldrian refugee. None of them have touched Ravenspire soil,” Gabril said.
Lorelai nodded and thanked the heavens that her voice didn’t shake as she said, “So there’s no chance the magic Irina is using to drain the land tainted these, and no chance that if I touch them, Irina’s magic will recognize mine and tell her that I’m still alive.”
“And exactly where to find us,” Leo said in his I’m-being-helpful voice from the loft above. “Don’t forget about that.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” she said. The knowledge that if she touched something that was bespelled by Irina—which could be anything in Ravenspire considering how much magic Irina used to keep herself on the throne—the queen would come for them was the silent fear that crouched in the corner of her mind and kept her thinking, planning, and thinking some more every hour of the day.
The only way she could become stronger was to practice her magic whenever Gabril found items that couldn’t possibly have been touched by the queen’s magic that threaded its way deep throughout the kingdom. Magic that was sucking the heart of the land dry, withering crops and destroying livestock as it forced the living heart of everything it touched to submit to the will of Ravenspire’s queen.
“You don’t have to do this,” Gabril said softly as Lorelai hesitated, her hand hovering over the three objects on the blanket. “You’ve already had a long day. If you want to practice tomorrow night instead—”
“I’ll practice now.” Her voice shook a little.
“You know how to do this,” he said. “Use the incantor that works best for what you want to do. Let your power do the work for you. You’re as strong willed as they come. You can subdue the heart of any living thing, or any object made from a living thing. You don’t have to fear what you are, Lorelai. Being a mardushka isn’t a choice. It’s how you use your power that matters.”
She let him think she was afraid of her magic. Of being a mardushka in Ravenspire, where outside of Irina and the princess, practitioners of magic didn’t exist. Where magic wasn’t passed through bloodlines as it was in Lorelai’s mother’s kingdom of Morcant, but was feared, and the rare mardushka who left her home country and traveled south into Ravenspire was cursed by peasants and nobility alike.
Letting him believe she feared her own power was better than admitting that she could still remember the warmth of Irina’s arm beneath her hand and the shape of her lips as she spoke the incantor to undo all Irina’s spells. Still hear the screams and smell the blood as the castle itself turned against everyone but the queen.
Still feel the weight of Leo’s hand in hers as her father spent his last words telling her to protect her brother.
If she wasn’t stronger than Irina, she wouldn’t be able to protect Leo. She wouldn’t be able to save her kingdom.
She’d fail.
Swiftly she picked up the green jewel. Its jagged edges gleamed in the dull light, and its weight was a solid presence. Her jaw clenched until it ached, and her power responded to the determination in her heart.
Magic rushed through her veins and gathered in her palms, sparking and burning and begging for release. The heart of the jewel surged to meet her power and put up no resistance to her will.
“Rast`lozh! Become the image that is in my mind.” Her magic flooded the emerald. She threw it into the air, and it exploded into a hundred razor-sharp needles that hovered, all pointed toward the barn’s door, waiting for a threat that wasn’t going to appear.
“You called your magic much faster this time,” Gabril said, approval warming his eyes.
“I thought of Irina.” Or more precisely, how badly she wanted Irina to pay for killing their father and stealing their kingdom.
“Any residual weariness?” he asked.
“Plenty. Thanks for asking.” Leo widened his eyes at the look Gabril gave him, then quickly hefted another sack and started back up the ladder.
Lorelai slowly lowered her hand. The needles rushed together and fused into the stone again. “Not really. Jewels don’t put up much resistance to magic. They like to change form. Now, if you really want me to test the limits of my magic and how much it will drain me to forcibly subdue something, you should let me heal your leg.”
“Not a chance,” Gabril said as he pressed his fist against his left leg. He’d broken it the night he’d rescued the two of them and hadn’t taken the time to have a doctor properly set because his priority had been putting as much distance as possible between the children and the queen. Lorelai’s determination to heal him and his determination to refuse her formed the backbone of an argument that had worn a groove through their relationship for the past nine years.