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“The path to breakthrough is paved in fear. Don’t be sorry. I’m certainly not.”

It’s strange to think how much Beaulah and I have in common. To see how, to an extent, her rougher edges make sense. No one understands what growing up cost her.

“Did you ever do things that you worried were wrong?”

“Sometimes people think they know more than they do. And talk too much. Their ignorance can get in the way. You can’t hesitate to cut people out of your circle, Quell.” She tidies my clothes. “Look around. I regret nothing.” She studies my purpled arms. “We have to soak you first next time.”

“Thank you for showing me all this.”

“It’s refreshing to welcome another into my circle. Something tells me you won’t disappoint.” She pinches my arm.

“Also, thank you for helping me with my magic.”

“It is an honor to watch your talents flourish, Quell. You may find that soon those talents are needed.” She raises a brow.

“The Sphere, you mean.”

“If it bleeds out, all that power you have will be gone.”

“That can’t happen,” I say.

“I agree. But we will save that plotting for another day. Get some rest. Give my Healer a visit ASAP. We have much to do together.”

I leave feeling a lot of things, but the strongest one—that thrums in my veins and puts a bounce in my step—is pride. I’ve never felt more powerful in my entire life.

Twenty-Five

Nore

Nore fiddled with the earrings beneath her curtain of hair. It’d been days yet she was no closer to figuring out where her mother would keep the key to the family vault. Darragh had already written to check in. Nore didn’t have any updates, so she hadn’t responded, which left her feeling like a fish was wriggling in her insides at all times. She had one idea of a place to look, but getting away from her lessons with Maezre Bessie Tutom was proving difficult. Nore watched the clock as Maezre Tutom stewed over a text, waiting for her to answer a question she’d already forgotten.

“Well? Are you going to answer?” She tapped her foot. They’d been at this for hours, memorizing House history and a month’s worth of Latin vocabulary she’d missed. “Let’s switch gears.” Maezre Tutom slapped the book closed and popped open a box of rings. “Get up, let’s get some blood flowing.” She slipped on a green one and dangled her hand to grip Nore’s shoulder.

Nore sighed. The burn of the maezre’s magic seared her shoulder. Her arm shuddered in pain, and the whole thing went numb from shoulder to wrist. She winced.

“It’s just been a while since you’ve tried.”

“Not to be disrespectful, Maezre, but according to Cultivating Finesse, the art of Cultivating works best when amplifying magic that is already there. As you know, there is no Audior magic in me to amplify. That ring can glow all it wants; it won’t help. I don’t have magic. And I’m fine with that.”

Maezre Tutom turned her to look her right in the eye. “You will not talk that way, young lady. Do you hear me?” She slipped on a different ring. In moments Nore’s shoulder was burning again and her arm was numb.

This must be what lab rats feel like, Nore thought.

They went on for an hour or more, before Nore’s stomach rumbled so loudly that it made a convincing appeal for a lunch break.

“It’s been quite some time since I’ve tutored you, but your memory is keen. Your mother told me your sabbatical went well and you’d come back sharper.”

“She said that?”

“She did. Still, we are quite behind.” Maezre Tutom patted a stack of books she still wanted to get through. “Heirs shouldn’t need more than one Season to debut; it makes a House look weak. Adola Perl will be finishing at the start of next Season. Drew Oralia finished in a single Season. The Marionne girl, if the rumors are true, finished in mere weeks. How much sharper should your intellect be, Ambrose? It’s already been years, multiple Seasons. You would disgrace yourself, this House, further?”

Nore groaned.

“Intellectus…” She gestured for Nore to finish.

“Secat acutissimum.” Her stomach churned again, as if on cue.

The maezre sighed. Then she tapped Nore on the head, pressing the diadem—that kept slipping—into her scalp. “We really should glue that down.”