either Darid or Arkady, and neither memory was welcome. Elly slept next to Judah every night—“Until you’re better and Gavin stops being a child”—but actually being touched was different. The magus seemed to sense her discomfort, and, as always, was quick.
As she buttoned the shirt and he washed his hands, he said, “Have you been outside? Fresh air might do you good.”
Wordless, she pointed at the open terrace doors.
“Exercise, then,” he said. “I’ll accompany you, if you like. You could show me the House.”
“I lost my boots.” She leaned back carefully, tucking her legs up under her skirt. “And I assume you noticed the guards at the door.”
The magus nodded. He seemed very young without his glasses. Theron had been the same way. When you were used to seeing a face with glasses, seeing it without them was like catching a glimpse of a private room. “Are they there for you?”
“Gavin’s angry.”
“Because of the caning?” He began to pack his supplies into his satchel, a process she liked watching as much as she liked anything. Everything had its place. A leather case for the silver scissors. A rubber-lined pocket for the salve, another lined in silk for the bandages. The day Theron was poisoned, he’d called himself disorganized. He’d lied. “Or because you kept a secret from him?”
“It’s complicated,” she said.
He shook his head. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, being Lord Elban’s son.”
“Gavin is nothing like his father,” Judah said automatically.
“They were both born knowing they would eventually rule everything they saw.” He took the old bandages and stuffed them into a cotton bag. “My mother is a healer. I spent my whole childhood muddling grass into water, doing what I’d seen her do. Experimenting, to see what was possible.”
“Women aren’t healers.”
“Things were different where I grew up. Anyway, I imagine it’s strange for you, too. He feels everything you feel physically, but he’ll never see the world the way you do. His experience of life is too different from yours.”
He seemed to expect an answer so she told him what Elly told her, every night. “He’s a child throwing a tantrum. He’ll get over it.”
The magus lifted an eyebrow ever so slightly. Judah wasn’t even sure she wouldn’t have noticed it if he’d been wearing glasses. “On my way to Highfall, I passed a village where Lord Elban had thrown a tantrum. The ashes were still warm.”
“Gavin is nothing like his father,” she said again.
The door opened and Theron wandered back in, the magus’s glasses in his hand. He laid them absentmindedly on the table. They were perfectly mended. Even the crack in the glass had disappeared. Something twisted in Judah’s heart, a piercing stab that died as quickly as it was born. Theron had not fixed anything since the poisoning.
The magus picked them up. “Thank you,” he said, surprised. But Theron had already drifted away.
* * *
Dinner came. Judah cut her food mechanically into pieces and ate it, though it was sand in her mouth. Gavin ignored Judah and so Elly ignored him. Judah could feel Gavin’s itchy, uncomfortable anger coming off him like an odor. All of them were eating as quickly as possible. Mealtimes were bleak, these days.
Suddenly, Theron put down his fork. “I feel,” he said, “like there are conversations going on, and I can’t hear them.”
There was a silence.
“Nobody is talking, Theron,” Elly said.
“No. Not here,” he answered. “Everywhere else.”
There was another silence.
Then Judah said, “Do you mean that people are talking, but they stop when they see you?” People did that to her. It could make a person feel crazy.
“No. I feel there’s always a conversation happening.” Theron frowned. “Conversation isn’t the right word. Not talking. But...” He shook his head, mouth tightening in a rare display of frustration. “Things were easier to explain before I got sick. Maybe I knew more words, then.”
Theron had never before mentioned the difference between what he was once and what he was now. The moment felt delicate, dangerous. Judah thought Gavin’s gaze darted to her, the way it always had when something puzzled or disturbed him. She kept her eyes on Theron.
Very gently, Elly said, “Perhaps you should talk to the new magus, love. He’s not like Arkady. He’s a good man.”
“He’s not a bad man,” Theron said. “But it’s worst when he’s here.” His face brightened with inspiration. “It’s like everybody is wearing clothes under their clothes. Layers and layers, all the way down. It’s always been that way, but it’s louder,