above me, and the thick scent of yeast heavy in the air. It was almost like I was home, tucked in the root cellar, but there’d never been the threat of alcohol fires in Vaser. I muttered guard rotations and news for Yvonne to pass onto Laurel.
I slept uneasily after that, but the days fell into a steady pattern. I woke in the morning and bathed with Gisèle, Isabelle, and several other girls—Coline didn’t like waking up earlier than she had to. Estrel slipped the gold-tinted spectacles over my face each morning, wearing hers as well so I wasn’t alone, and they kept me from being constantly assaulted—Stareaters scattering against a blue sky, boots splashing though a thin stream, blood seeping through crooked teeth—each time I looked at silver. In class, I started answering when the teachers asked questions, especially in mathematics and household management. Gabriel, still alive, was a blank image whenever I tried to scry him.
Estrel kept me after the evening classes were over. The spectacles tempered my power, she said, and I needed them because, like her, I was very good at seeing the magic in things. Divining had always come easily to me, but not in useful ways. Estrel set me in the comfortable chair in her laboratory and shook her head. She didn’t push me to scry.
“What on earth have you been doing?” Estrel turned my hands over in hers. “Your nails are purple.”
I told her I’d helped Yvonne make red ink out of beets. She’d laughed, clapped, and asked me how we’d done it. Yvonne seemed pleased about that when I told her. She baked and titrated and passed on my news to Laurel. Sometimes we worked in silence, the comfortable type, and I caught her watching me in the reflection of my scrying bowl. Sometimes we talked about life.
I told her about my mother and that she hadn’t tried to talk to me.
And sometimes, I tried to scry Macé, but all I saw was the magic-gilded smear of Serre, all the power held there too bright to let me gaze at it. He must’ve been a varlet by now. I hoped he was happy.
I didn’t try to scry Vaser. If I saw them in some future, happy without me, I didn’t know what I’d do.
My fourth day training with Estrel, I got a note from Emilie.
A dear friend has taught me how to scry, and while I have not accomplished it well, I will attempt it on the next full moon night at twilight.
Which was tonight. Letters were worthless; we had to figure out something faster. I wrote out a little note to her—If you can read this, you’re scrying—and left it on my desk. At twilight, I sat before it.
An hour later, I scryed her and caught the end of her laughing about it. She looked well, if not tired, and on her bed was a glass tablet that read: I know you’re scrying this. Thank you.
And that was how we spoke from then on. It went like that, day after day, classes in the morning, the midnight arts with Estrel in the evening, and Yvonne’s warm company at night. Every night at twilight, Emilie and I scryed each other and exchanged quick notes. I made her scry first, and I spoke during her time, hoping she’d figure out the right amount of power to be able to hear me. She only ever caught bits and pieces, though. She was channeling too much power into the silver. It made the scrying harder to control.
But she was getting better, even if she was sneaking out most nights. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she was working for Laurel too. Maybe she did have some sense.
All of it would’ve been easier if I could divine.
Least I was useful in other ways. Estrel got a letter one day from Pièrre du Guay, and I loosened one of my rings and let it roll off under her chair. Estrel ducked to pick it up. I twisted so I could read the letter.
“—reply immediately with what your scrying uncovers or you will be—”
Of course. The only part I’d uncovered was the closing and his threats to strip her of her titles if she didn’t comply. What an ass.
Estrel set the ring on top of the letter. “You’re very lucky I don’t care about keeping his secrets.”
“Sorry,” I said. She smiled, but I could feel the heat spreading through my cheeks. I was too tired to