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F or the first time in Mareleau’s life, there was such a thing as too many sweets. And too many gifts. They filled nearly every surface of her bedroom, from the dressing table to the nightstand and a good portion of the floor. Two marble dress forms boasted bejeweled robes in the Elvyn fashion, which were so heavy and ornate they had to be hauled in by a trio of servants. Decanters of wine, kettles of tea, and plates upon plates of desserts and confections in bold flavors unlike anything she’d tasted were clustered upon the tea table.

After the tribunal’s begrudging acceptance of her, she hadn’t expected much from her interactions with the Elvyn people, but within an hour, visitors had begun to call. It turned out not everyone was as curmudgeonly as those who’d attended the meeting. Thanks to the translation charm on the bracelet Fanon had given her and Cora, she could easily communicate with them. Her servants and palace staff rarely said much other than to pay their respects, but they always bowed at the waist or bent at the knee in her presence.

Edel Morkara’Elle .

She’d heard that title so many times since the meeting ended.

Perhaps being the mother of the Morkara wasn’t too much of a step down from being queen. It certainly came with perks.

And a very full belly.

Yet as full as she was, she was completely unsatisfied. How could she be content when the future was so unclear? Would Ailan keep the tear open long enough to allow Mareleau and Larylis to live out their lives in the human world with their son? And if not, would Mareleau learn to consider this place her home? Would the Elvyn accept Larylis? What would happen to Vera? Who would take care of her kingdom?

She hated those questions, and she likely wouldn’t get answers any time soon. They had a war to win, an enemy to kill.

Meanwhile, all she could do was sit in her pretty room and gorge herself on Elvyn sweets.

That and protect her son, of course.

She stared down at Noah with a grin. He lay beside her at the center of a cushioned velvet mat on the floor, staring at the glittering, swaying mobile—a gift from one of his new Elvyn admirers, of course. He was starting to look less like a wrinkled old man and more like a chubby baby. How old was he now? Just over two weeks? It had been so hard to keep track of time, especially when trying to track the passage of days in the human world too. Were she at home without war on the horizon, she’d have celebrated each week since his birth, marked each milestone with gifts and cake.

Gifts and cake were all around them now, but it wasn’t for quite the same reason.

Bitterness sank her chest, edged with impatience. She hated feeling useless. Hated waiting. Hated being surrounded by luxury yet impoverished at heart.

Maybe…

If she could only…

She scooted closer to Noah and extended her hands, palms toward him. Closing her eyes, she tried to sense a tingling buzz of magic, tried to feel a ripple of some hidden strength. Instead, she felt nothing. Yet…wasn’t she going about this wrong in the first place? She was— supposedly —claircognizant, not clairsentient. Her sensory affinity was keen knowing, but here she was trying to feel like Cora could.

How could she truly protect her son and make her magic count if she didn’t know how to make proper use of her abilities? Clenching her jaw, she opened her eyes. Noah’s gaze was on her hands now as he gummed his tiny fist.

Her heart melted at the sight, taking the edge off her annoyance. “I just wish I could protect you.”

If she could at least cast a protective ward around him, she’d feel useful. Salinda had helped her understand her magic when they’d spoken in her tent, but she hadn’t taught her how to use that understanding for what Mareleau wanted to do most. It was hard to take her magic seriously when she hadn’t a clue how to accomplish her goals.

She adopted a playful tone and wiggled her fingers. “You, little Noah, are hereby protected. No? Nothing? Huh.”

A soft knock came from the other side of her bedroom door. Ailan swept in.

Mareleau angled her head to face her. “Has Cora returned?”

“Not yet,” Ailan said.

It had only been a matter of hours since Cora left El’Ara, but in the human world, more than a full day had passed. Would it take several days to sort out her side of the terms for the alliance? Weeks? Mareleau would lose her mind if that ended up being the case. The sooner Cora returned, the sooner she might have a chance of getting another letter to or from Larylis.

Ailan approached her and Noah. “What are you doing there?”

Mareleau frowned, unsure of what she was inquiring about until she glanced at her hands. They were still extended over Noah. She snatched them back. “Oh, that. I was…”

Why was she embarrassed to admit it? She had no reason to feel ashamed.

She lifted her chin and feigned confidence. “I was practicing casting a protective ward around Noah.”

Ailan settled on the floor beside them. “Did it work?”

“Not yet.” She didn’t mean to sound so defensive. “That’s why I’m practicing.”

“Is that what kind of magic you hope to have? Wardweaving?”

“Is that an option?” Mareleau hadn’t considered whether she might have access to Elvyn magic.

“Perhaps. I know Salinda helped you understand your witch magic, but exploring your Elvyn side may help too. Your magic is a combination of both. And while a weaver’s mora doesn’t always manifest in the ways we want, it’s possible you’re drawn to wardweaving because it’s your specialty. I’m a truthweaver through and through, without a stitch of talent for wardweaving. My wards are weak when I attempt them. Still, I can teach you the gesture for casting them.”

Excitement bubbled in her chest. Was she about to learn how to do something useful with magic at last?

“Even if wardweaving isn’t your talent,” Ailan said, “a gesture may help guide your witch magic. Sometimes external action can aid its flow, for it gives you something outside yourself to trust in.”

Ailan extended her palms, and Mareleau mirrored her. She touched her thumbs to her ring fingers, angled her hands, and then linked the pairs of touching fingers together. Angling her hands again, she touched her pinkies, then her middle fingers, then her index. The motions stretched Mareleau’s digits in strange and unfamiliar ways, but the challenge made her feel accomplished. Ailan moved her hands again, this time lacing all five fingers together before separating them.

“You end by encompassing the subject you’d like to ward with your hands,” Ailan explained. “It may help to imagine an invisible blanket between your fingers, settling over your subject. For large subjects, you may need to repeat the gesture several times and in several different areas until it’s completely covered.”

Following her instruction, Mareleau envisioned a protective blanket falling from her hands over Noah.

And then…

She cast a hopeful look at Ailan. “Did that work?”

Ailan chuckled. “The Forest People call it quiet magic, and Elvyn magic operates in a similarly quiet way. Wards are particularly hard to test, for that would require an attempt to break through them. But don’t be discouraged. With or without this gesture, you’re still a witch. You still have a sensory affinity you can work with.”

“Claircognizance.”

Ailan nodded. “Since knowing is your strength, you must build your trust in your abilities. When you cast your ward, you must know it works.”

Her heart sank. How could she know when she…didn’t? How could she have confidence in something she couldn’t see or feel? It had been easy to trust her glamours because she hadn’t taken them seriously. She’d brushed them off as a logic-based skill, something she’d assumed anyone could do if they’d tried.

“You’ve tried warding Noah,” Ailan said, “but have you tried warding yourself?”

“I don’t care about warding myself.” It was an immediate response, but it wasn’t fully true. “Or…it’s more that Salinda said witch magic grows through challenge. So I’m trying to do the opposite of what my instincts want. It’s easy to be selfish, so I’m trying not to focus on myself at all.”

Ailan frowned. “Is it easy to be selfish? To me, it looks like your resistance to focusing on yourself is stronger.”

“Yes because of the challenge?—”

“That’s not quite how it works.” Ailan shook her head. “I may be Elvyn, but I lived with the Forest People for centuries. I’ve watched witches flourish and grow. You can’t challenge your magic; you must wait for it to challenge you. In the meantime, you grow it by working within your nature. Keep performing feats of magic the way you always have?—”

“Casting glamours over myself isn’t going to keep Noah safe. I want to create a shield around him or make him invisible to any who would cause him harm.”

Ailan released a weighted sigh. “I remember those feelings. That need to protect the fragile being you brought into this world. It’s been so long since I’ve felt that.”

“Then you understand why I need to protect him. You claim he’s safe behind the Veil, but if your brother finds his way here…”

“I know.” Ailan set a comforting hand on her shoulder. Mareleau was surprised that she felt no instinct to flinch away. When had she begun to grow used to this woman? Ailan spoke again. “Why don’t you try holding Noah and casting magic around the two of you? See if you can evade the notice of the servants who bring you dinner. Or perhaps convince them you have pointed ears, some feature you can get outside confirmation on. Start with a glamour before you try warding. Start with yourself before you try shifting your magic to others.”

Her shoulders fell. That sounded like a tediously slow process, but if it gave her something to work on, she supposed she should be grateful. “All right.”

Ailan must have heard the dejected note in her voice, for she rose to her feet with a warm smile. “Come, there’s someone I want you to formally meet.”