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‘And the other part?’

She sighed. ‘Smoothness for mind. Mirroring surfaces like steel and polished wood are sources of mind magic, and you need that, too. Bindings take effect when magic is wielded with theintentionto do harm – that’s where the mind comes in.’

My breath escaped in a dazed laugh. ‘Good gods.’

‘Yes, you’re very welcome.’ There was a wry edge to her grin. ‘Let’s see if we can get you to move something. I should have a velvet hair scarf somewhere I haven’t touched in centuries – knew it would come in handy one day.’

Velvet.Softness for movement.The words sung through my mind like a brand new lullaby as I stumbled after her to the cottage, still desperately struggling to make sense of every new crumb of information. I had to memorise this – had to remember every single word she spoke, because who else would tell me once I left this place?

The hair scarf – an antique piece of wine-red velvet – was located at the bottom of a blanket chest. I could have tried with other fabrics as well, Zera explained as she put it in my hands, but the more reflective, the better, and why make this first attempt harder than necessary?

A good question; it seemed a rather intimidating task already.

I stared at the scarf, at the soft gleam of daylight reflecting off the folds of the velvet, and felt my mind wander back to those first days at the Crimson Court and all the hours I’d spent blowing stones apart before I figured out how to keep my powers in check. This time I didn’t even have Creon’s guidance to help me. It was me against this slip of fabric, and so far, the slip of fabric appeared to have the advantage.

Really, that sounded rather pathetic.

I kicked myself into motion and strode towards the window, where the velvet caught as much sunlight as possible.Softness.Colour magic was all about imagining colours, about vividly seeing the hue and saturation I needed, and setting it free. So could I do the same here? Could I isolate just the texture, that soft, velvety gleam, and make it do my bidding – make itmove?

I closed my eyes. Thought of Miss Matilda’s workshop, swatches of velvet and finely woven wool, the fleecy surfaces under my fingers. Thought of the downy softness of young chicks, the fuzzy buds of grey willows, the plush gleam of moss.

A familiar tingle awoke under the fingers of my left hand.

I let the magic flow without thinking, clinging to that impression of softness as I stretched out my right hand at the first object that came to mind. Movement.Movement.If I could just release whatever power was sleeping under my touch, could just take that soft reflection of light and make itmine—

Magic seared through me.

And with a bang that made me cower and shriek out loud, something slammed through the window, sending the chickens outside clucking hysterically as they fled.

My eyes flew open. The glass had shattered. Shards lay scattered in a semi-circle on the grass outside, perfectly centred around the projectile that had caused all the havoc – a heavy earthen mug, the same mug that had contained my morning tea, that had stood peacefully on the dinner table until mere moments ago.

And now it was outside.

I glanced down at the scarf in my hand, which had gone oddly …plain. It still had the same wine-red colour, but without any of that plush, velvety texture to it; instead, the fabric had gone flat like the most expressionless sheet of empty parchment.

‘It works.’ The conclusion fell from my lips before my mind had fully wrapped itself around it. ‘It … it actually works.’

Zera didn’t reply. When I whirled around to her spot by the hearth, she sat studying the broken window with damp green eyes, her lips trembling in what might be a smile as easily as a desperate attempt to hold back tears.

‘Look at that,’ she quietly said, looking up to meet my gaze. ‘Seems I’m not yet entirely useless, after all.’

‘You’re notuseless.’ I flung the ruined scarf aside and fell into the nearest chair. ‘You’re carrying all that bloody grief. You’re sending the doves.’

She sighed and averted her eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘And this … You changedeverything.’ I nodded at my hands, unable to suppress a breathless laugh. ‘If I can break the bindings, she’s lost her best advantage. We might actuallywin. Get rid of her and of the empire and … and …’

Only at that moment did the triumph hit me, no less glorious for being a trifle tardy. Icouldface the bitch now, not just as Emelin the little unbound mage, but as Emelin the little godsworn mage – a true threat, rather than merely the only pesky enemy she hadn't rendered harmless yet. Hell, I might justsurvivethis war.

Another laugh found its way to my lips, and then suddenly I was standing again, unable to resist the burst of energy that spread like wildfire through my limbs. I just had to practise. I just had to figure out those bloody bindings.Mind and magic– where should I start?

‘Yes,’ Zera said, and something close to a smile returned to her eyes. ‘You may actually win.’

‘Are we sure I can do mind magic, too, if I can do movement?’ I bounced two steps to the door, laid my hand against my blue dress, and flashed a good dose of azure at the broken window. It repaired itself almost flawlessly; only a few cracks in the glass reminded us of where it had shattered. ‘I could try. Well, maybe I shouldn’t experiment on you, before I blow up your mind by accident, but—’

‘You will not be possessing my chickens, dear,’ Zera said dryly, following me into the garden. ‘I draw the line there. Find a few victims of your own, if you wish to experiment – and for all that is holy, start small. Blowing up a few memories is more than enough in most cases.’

‘You’re …’ I wheeled around, blinking against the sunlight. ‘You’re not going to teach me that?’