much. Much too much. And coming from him, of all people!
A wave of emotions broke over her, bringing a hot flush of blood roaring to her cheeks. First, pride coupled with pure elation. Then, embarrassment and a nagging fear that this was all some kind of joke, that he was teasing her, telling her foolish tales to see how gullible she could be.
After all those . . . shame.
She bowed her head, unable to meet his eyes. When she opened her mouth to speak, no words would come.
“Would you allow me, Miss Beck?” Silveri pressed gently, still holding out the quill. “May I perform the binding?”
No! the voice in her head snarled viciously.
But Nelle only nodded, mute and a bit numb.
The mage knelt beside her and began to recite the words of a spell. A frisson of energy drew Nelle’s eye from the book lying open on the other end of the table, and she knew he was using one of his spells. How it worked, she wasn’t certain. With most of the spells she’d seen him use, she’d been able to discern some sense of the magic, been able to trace the shape or even, in many cases, see the actual spell as though it were physically manifest before her.
In this case, the magic was subtle—so subtle that it might have been nothing more than a slight change of pressure in the air. As his words flowed on, coolness—like a breeze but not quite—seemed to touch her face and slide up her nostrils. She breathed it deep into her chest, where she felt it coil in cool strands around her heart. She closed her eyes, seeking the sensation, trying to make it stronger. But the more she sought, the more it faded from her perception.
Was she doing something wrong? Was she supposed to respond to the spell in some way? He hadn’t told her as much, but maybe he simply expected her to know?
Panic fluttered in her gut, and she opened her eyes, gazing at the mage before her. His eyes were closed as he concentrated on the spell, so she took the opportunity to study him. When he knelt, his head was nearly level with hers, offering her a clear view of every awful pucker and tear in his skin. Even the newest ones, which he had received the night before in his ongoing battle with the Thorn Maiden.
Nelle grimaced, no longer paying attention to the magic he spun. Her mind flitted elsewhere into dangerous thoughts, dangerous ideas.
What if she were to stay here and devote herself to this study? What if she didn’t hold back but truly poured herself into these exciting possibilities, delving into the worlds of knowledge now opening before her eyes?
What if she could help him bind the Thorn Maiden?
Papa . . .
And there it was.
Every fantasy crumbled to nothing, every hope, every foolish idea.
Gaspard had Papa. Nothing else mattered.
Silveri came to the end of his spell. Nelle felt the little jolt of completed magic as the spell written in the book broke apart, never to be used again. The mage looked up at her, tipping his head back to meet her eyes. He offered the quill.
“All you must do now is claim it,” he said. “If you wish to, Miss Beck.”
She wished to. Oh, how she wished to! Her fingers reached out, hovered over the goose-feather with its carefully trimmed nib stained dark with blue ink.
“Will it make a difference?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper. “Will it make me . . . better?”
He shook his head. “You and you alone can make the difference.”
She pulled her lips in, biting down hard. Then, her jaw firming with resolve, she plucked up the quill, half expecting to feel another jolt, some burst of magical energy, some sensation of binding. But there was nothing. The quill felt the same as it ever had in her hands.
But Silveri rose and stepped back, a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. “Miss Beck,” he said, “you are now officially on your way to becoming a true magician.”
The cold coils around her heart tightened. It was all Nelle could do to offer the mage a thin smile.
Silveri sent her out from the lighthouse again for the rest of the day.
He wouldn’t say much. No further words of congratulation or explanation for the strange ceremony he’d just completed. Only, “That is enough for one morning. Take some air. Clear your mind. But take these with you.”
So saying,