braved the moat of thorny roses surrounding the house, sacrificing the helpless feathers of her skirt as she crouched beneath the closest cottage window to eavesdrop.
If Legend was having a relationship with someone else, Tella wanted to know everything about it. Maybe this woman was the reason he’d walked away from her that night in front of the Temple of the Stars.
Rubbing her hands together to keep herself from turning to ice, Tella lifted her head enough to peek through a frosted window. The cabin looked as warm as a handwritten love letter, with a stone fireplace that took up an entire wall and a forest of candles dangling from the ceiling.
The hideaway seemed to be made for romantic rendezvous, but as Tella spied, she saw no kissing, no embracing. Esmeralda sat on the blazing fireplace hearth as if it were her throne, while Legend stood before her like a loyal subject.
Interesting.
Maybe the matching tattoos didn’t mean what Tella thought they meant. But Tella was still troubled. She always imagined that Legend answered to no one except himself, and no matter who this fascinating woman was, Tella didn’t like her. And she really didn’t like the way Legend stood, leaning toward her, head slightly bowed, as he said, “I need your help, Esmeralda. The Fates have broken free from the Deck of Destiny that you imprisoned them in.”
Blood and saints.
Tella ducked back down, sucking in cold gasps of air as her back slammed against the icy cottage wall. Suddenly she knew exactly who this young woman was. Before Legend had freed the Fates, they had been imprisoned in a Deck of Destiny by the same witch who’d given Legend his powers. The witch who Legend was speaking with now.
No wonder he was treating this woman like a queen. Esmeralda was his creator. When she had cast the spell dooming the Fates to the cards, she’d taken half their powers and then given them to Legend when he’d sought her out, centuries later. Tella didn’t actually know much more about the witch. But she wasn’t supposed to be so young, or so tall and attractive.
“I failed to destroy the Fates. I’m sorry. But I’m paying the price,” Legend said, his voice carrying down through the cracked window above. “My magic has grown much weaker since the moment they were freed. The Fates are still asleep for now, but I think they’ve already taken some of their powers back. I can barely do a simple illusion.”
Tella resisted the urge to stand and steal another look. Was he telling the truth? If the Fates had somehow managed to steal his magic, then it would explain why he’d vanished so violently from her dreams the other night, and failed to appear last night. Yet she’d seen him use a glamour in the forest to change his clothes, and he’d seemed to have no trouble with it.
Of course, that was a small illusion, and she hadn’t been close enough to touch it. In one of her earlier dreams with Legend, he had explained how his powers worked. He’d told Tella: Magic comes in two forms. Those with powers can usually either manipulate people or manipulate the world. But I can do both and create lifelike glamours that feel far more real than ordinary illusions. I can make it rain, and you wouldn’t just see the rain, you’d feel it soaking your clothes and your skin. You’d feel it all the way down to your bones if I wanted you to.
It had started raining then, inside of her dream, and when she’d woken up hours later, her thin nightdress had been speckled with drops of wet and her curls had been soaked—letting her know that the dreams weren’t just her imaginings, but real rendezvous with Legend, and that his powers of illusion extended far beyond them.
Perhaps Legend was telling the truth about the Fates taking some of his magic, but he wasn’t telling the entire truth. Maybe he could still create illusions, but they weren’t powerful enough to trick people into believing they were real.
Tella thought back to the dead butterfly she’d found in her hand when she’d woken up the day before. Now that she really considered it, she’d seen the butterfly, but she hadn’t felt it. Its delicate wings hadn’t brushed her skin, and as soon as she’d set it on the nightstand, it had vanished.
“The Fates shouldn’t have any of your magic,” the witch bit out, “not unless you released them from the