got what she was saying. I wore her spectacles constantly, the headaches worse now, as if every future were knocking at my mind to be let in, and she let me drink tea and sit at her desk while I made list after list of questions. Some were silly, I knew, but she never laughed.
“When you’re divining for the king and the chevaliers, do you see their hacks?” I asked as I was leaving. Our schedules were backward now. We slept for most of the day and were up for most of the night, so that the midnight arts were at their full power. My flickers of the futures were narrow. I only ever saw a single person, even now. They were clearer, though. “Do you see the whole scene?”
Do you see a boy too young to be there with hair like mine and hazel eyes? He’s scared of mice and never been away from home, I wanted to ask.
Macé’s future was tied to Chevalier du Ferrant’s, and my divining was always unsteady.
“Sometimes.” She looked up at me from her spot behind her desk. Estrel slept less than all of us, working during the day too. I didn’t know where she channeled her power from in the early afternoons when all of Mistress Moon was gone. Estrel’s powers seemed endless. “Why?”
“Do you warn them?” I asked, and she laughed.
“Darling, of course I warn them. The crown may have first rights to my skills, but I haven’t forgotten who I am, and I’m certainly not one of them.” She pointed to the great tapestry of Lord Sun and Mistress Moon on the wall of her office. “Why is the sun a lord but the moon his mistress?”
I shook my head. “Because they are.”
“But why did we separate magic by them?” she asked. “There’s no need. It’s all magic. All power, only different levels upon a spectrum of power. Why do they divide people?”
“Because we’re easier to kill when we’re alone.”
“Yes, but we are not alone.”
* * *
On the fifth day, Physician Allard was on the name of every Thornish soldier I scryed, and I wrote each one down in excruciating detail so he could avoid them all. Two days later, I learned he lived. A Thornish house had burned, and due to my warning, he hadn’t entered it to save the soldiers. I didn’t scry that day.
I sat in the kitchen and helped Yvonne make all sorts of inks and tonics and drinks for the people at the front. She said it wasn’t my fault.
“Have you heard from Laurel?” I sliced vegetables and chopped herbs, kneaded bread for tomorrow, and did all sorts of things Annette Boucher used to do. We had a system, Yvonne and I, and it worked.
She shook her head and rubbed her cheek, smearing charcoal across her face. “They had to leave. Henric can still get some news to them, but I think it’s over for now. It had just caught on, and there wasn’t enough wood to keep the fire burning.”
“Do you think Henric could get letters to common soldiers?” I wiped the charcoal from her cheek, and she scooped the diced onions from my board. The soldier who guarded the gate and had introduced me to Laurel, Henric, had been on edge of late. “Not only the ones working with Laurel?”
We had orders—who to scry for, who to divine for, what sorts of illusions we needed to work on in case they were needed—and they didn’t include all the kids from our homes who’d gotten called up to fight or the hacks at death’s door next to the chevaliers.
“Maybe,” she said. “Why?”
“They deserve to have someone look out for them too.”
* * *
Time passed a blur of working nights and sleepless days. Vivienne tried to keep the rest of our lives as ordinary as possible, as if some of us weren’t waiting for letters with news of the dead. There were two girls here with fathers and brothers who were chevaliers. They’d taken to staying up with the scryers and diviners while we worked. Like at breakfast, they helped us hide our use of the midnight arts.
I ripped myself from a scrying—hands red and blue and trembling before me as the spear came down—and gasped.
“You’re done for tonight,” Gisèle said. She shoved a wadded-up cloth into my left nostril and gagged. “I can’t fix nose bleeds with paints.”
Gisèle was an excellent painter, and her cosmetics covered my dark circles and worn-out skin better than any