realized that there was someone besides Val she could ask about shadow magic: Morra, the stronghold’s cook, who was a veteran Phoenix Rider from the Blood War—and a shadowmage herself.
Veronyka would have to reveal her own shadow magic in the process, but she knew in her heart that Morra wouldn’t shun or shame her. Maybe she could give Veronyka some basic information and guidance.
Maybe she could teach her to stop being scared of her own magic.
* * *
Veronyka didn’t get a chance to speak to Morra in private until after dinner.
She walked through the empty dining hall, the benches placed atop the long wooden tables so that the floor could be swept, while the fireplaces that ran along the far wall burned low.
On the other side, Morra was alone in the kitchens, hunched over the counter as she finished whatever prep needed doing before the morning. The fireplaces separated the cooking area from the dining hall, casting her work space into flickering orange and yellow light.
Hearing Veronyka’s hesitant footsteps, she turned.
Veronyka didn’t say anything, just sank onto a stool, trying to figure out how to broach the topic. Morra set aside the bowls of dough she was preparing for the morning baking and surveyed Veronyka, who was twisting her hands together nervously.
“I think I could use something to warm me up. What about you?” Morra asked, glancing over her shoulder as she opened a container and dropped leaves into a teapot. She didn’t wait for Veronyka to answer, instead filling the pot from the still-hot kettle over the hearth and placing the steaming, fragrant pot before them. Thankfully it wasn’t Morra’s infamous pungent healing tea, but instead something that smelled sweet and floral. Morra filled their cups and leaned her crutch against the wall before easing into a seat beside Veronyka. They drank in silence for several moments.
“Morra… you’re a shadowmage, aren’t you?” Veronyka asked, abandoning pretense.
Morra glanced over her shoulder, but the place was deserted. Obviously people knew Morra was Commander Cassian’s top choice for interrogations, but Veronyka doubted many of them understood her gift or what it was called. As Veronyka’s recent research attested, it had historically been treated with a lot of fear and superstition, or ignored altogether, no matter that Nefyra herself had supposedly been a shadowmage.
“And if I am?” Morra asked carefully.
“The thing is… I am too.”
Veronyka braced herself for anger, but Morra wore a grim, resigned expression. There was a whisper of magic against Veronyka’s mental barriers, but no push or intrusion. It was more questing, confirming… like an acknowledgment rather than an invasion. “I thought you might be. I wasn’t sure if you knew you were, though. There’s many that don’t. I sure didn’t, when I first started hearing other people’s minds as a child. Thought I was losing my mind instead.” She smiled cajolingly, and Veronyka nodded, surprised by the tears filling her eyes. Veronyka had known, thanks to Val, but the magic had never brought her anything but trouble.
Well, that wasn’t true. Though it was fraught and dangerous, her link to Tristan had brought her a connection to another person more powerful than anything she’d experienced before. And now that she had no sister or grandmother… that bond was more than just a complication. It was like what she had with Xephyra.
It was like family.
“Hey, now, it’s all right, young one. It’s all right,” Morra murmured, pulling Veronyka into a hug. She smelled of cinnamon and fresh-baked dough, and Veronyka wanted to sink into her and disappear. “It’s a hard gift, there’s no mistaking it. And people often don’t understand. You were wise to keep it to yourself.”
Veronyka pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “What do you mean?”
Morra paused. “Well… besides the fact that many are suspicious of it,” she began thoughtfully, “it’s made more powerful by familiarity.” Icy dread slipped down Veronyka’s spine. She knew this, but hearing it confirmed was worse somehow. “It’s harder to control with the people you’re closest to,” Morra conceded, speaking slowly, as if carefully choosing each word. “It’s the same as animal magic in that regard. But if the people around you know you have it—it will be worse still.”
“What? How?” Veronyka asked desperately.
Morra sighed heavily, fiddling idly with her teacup on the table before her. “Do you remember when you first discovered you were an animage? Not when you were little, using your magic unconsciously. I mean when you knew you had magic and how it worked.”