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Dawsyn swallows awkwardly, loath to ask of her what she must. “Will… will you teach me?”

The berries fall to the earth. The mage tilts her head. “Why? How will you use it?”

Dawsyn frowns. It ought to be an obvious answer. “I’ll use whatever I can to get over the Chasm and free my people.”

Baltisse appears unsurprised but remains silent as she peers into Dawsyn’s eyes. “This magic is not powerful enough forthat, sweet.”

Dawsyn juts her chin. “Then I will use it to threaten those in Glacia. And make them do it for me.”

Baltisse smiles with sinister glee. Her feline eyes burn brightly.

Dawsyn feels discomfort stroke the back of her neck. Her palms sweat. She feels the presence of the mage invading her mind. Dawsyn pities her for what she’ll find. “Will you teach me, or not?”

Baltisse sees the gooseflesh along Dawsyn’s wrist and grins. She turns away, sallow hair fanning out into an arc. “No.”

Dawsyn blinks, suddenly absent of the strange disquiet in her mind. The mage is disappearing down the path, and Dawsyn hastens after her. “Why not?”

“I sense you’d make a lousy student.”

“From the mouth of a lousy tutor, no doubt.”

This gives Baltisse pause, of course. For all her blistering tongue is worth, the mage’s ego is the size of a mountain. Dawsyn could smell it on her the first time they met. Baltisse may be powerful, but ego is weak and easy to press. It is the most simplistic manipulation. Dawsyn herself suffered the same vulnerability.

The memory of Briar’s previous warning rings in her ears.“Don’t get cocky, my girl. There is an inch of difference between confidence and arrogance where the sword errs to one side, and arrogance always bleeds out first.”

She had never quite mastered the lesson.

Dawsyn pushes the thought further from her mind, lest it reach the mage. “I am returning to Glacia sooner or later,” she says now, standing firm. “I’d much rather depart knowing this magic can aid me when I need it, but if you do not know how to show me–”

“There is noshowingyou,” Baltisse snarls, “and there is very little to be taught. Magic is instinctive.”

“Ah, I see.” Dawsyn nods, walking toward her, and then past her. “Well, teaching is not a challenge that I ever expected you to take on, truly. But it was worth asking.”

From behind, Baltisse huffs, “I’ve taught entirecovensof mage offspring, Sabar. A lungful of iskra would not best me.”

“It is not a familiar brand of magic to you; I can understand that. Forget it.”

Baltisse laughs. One loud, dry, barking crack, and it makes Dawsyn turn to look. The mage’s face is to the sky, glowing with dark mirth. Slowly, slowly she lays her glare to Dawsyn. Even the forest seems to lose its nerve, shrinking inward, darkening as a cloud passes over the sun.

“Some genes cannot be diluted,” Baltisse says in her cryptic way, voice low and deadly. “Very well, Dawsyn Sabar, girl of the Ledge, conqueror of the pool. Let us bring the magic forward and see if those smart words will help you.” The mage raises a hand and curls one finger inward. “Come, princess. Call it forth.”

“I’m not aprincess,” Dawsyn bites, and regrets giving the words passage. The mage smiles in response to her quick anger and Dawsyn grits her teeth.

“Call it forth,” Baltisse says again, coming closer.

“How?”

“Find it first. I assume by now you know where it hides?”

Dawsyn nods, for within her body is an ever-present weight, a useless heft of matter. She feels it in the centre of her, burrowed tightly into itself, cinched and impenetrable.

“What does it feel like?” Baltisse asks, a hairsbreadth from her now. Dawsyn resists the urge to step away. Instead, she closes her eyes. She lets her mind wander to the magic in her core. She reaches out to prod it, but the magic ignores her.

“It feels… unyielding,” Dawsyn whispers. “And cold.” She opens her eyes, and sees the mage give a nod. “But it burns, all the same,” Dawsyn continues. “So cold that it burns.”

At this, Baltisse hesitates briefly. “Does it pain you?”

“No,” Dawsyn answers immediately, for it doesn’t. “It is… satisfying.”