Mine to Spell (Mine #2)

by Janeal Falor

  Guilt pricks my chest. “Serena…”

  She backs up until she hits the wall. “No. I’d know. We’d know. Women don’t do magic. We can only carry it. We don't do it.”

  “It’s true.”

  “No. You can’t. Women can’t.”

  “What was my hair like when we were little?”

  She shakes her head, staying silent, but Bethany says, “It was everywhere. Your curls were hard to manage. You, mother, and Serena were often punished over it. Until your hair suddenly became more manageable…”

  She eyes my locks. Serena does as well, her fist gripping her skirt even tighter.

  “They became more manageable when I learned how to keep them spelled in place.”

  Bethany bites her lower lip, but nods like it all makes sense. Serena, though, her eyes tighten. “Edward must have done something to you. Spells leave light. You know that. We’d see it.”

  Now doesn’t feel like the time to tell her it wasn’t Edward that did something to me, but rather that I did something to him. “They do leave color, but some are more noticeable than others. Father’s silencing spell?”

  Serena clamps her mouth closed.

  “It’s clear,” Bethany replies.

  “And so is this one, mostly anyway. It does tend to take on the color of my hair, but no one’s ever noticed.”

  “This explains the burned blanket I found at the bottom of your trunk,” Bethany says.

  My face heats.

  When there’s still no reply from Serena, Bethany says, “Please show us. Just nothing that will burn another blanket. Something nice.”

  Immediately, magic stirs within me. It’s been aching to show itself to my sisters for years, and now it has the chance. Only, I don’t know how well Serena’s going to take it. Pushing aside my misgivings, I close my eyes and let the magic flow from me. There’s a gasp, but I don’t look yet. The spell meshes with the spell already on my hair. I picture the spell returning to me, leaving my hair in its natural state of disarray. Once complete, I finally chance opening my eyes.

  Serena’s hand presses against her mouth, eyes riveted on my hands.

  “That was amazing,” Bethany says. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding it all these years. What made it finally come out?”

  “Edward tried to take my blood. My magic. I couldn’t let him. The spells just flew out of me.”

  “You hexed a warlock?” Serena is pale, eyes wide.

  “I did,” I say and hastily add, “But don’t tell anyone. If they find out, I’m sure not only my ownership would be under question, but my life and your memory of me, as well.”

  “Our memory?” Bethany asks.

  It’s something I wish I never had to admit. The position I’ve put us all in. “Zade said whenever a woman in Chardonia does magic, the council kills her and erases everyone’s memory of her.”

  Bethany emits a small gasp.

  After too long a moment, Serena says, “It will take some time for me to get used to this idea, but I promise to keep it secret.”

  Relief courses through me, though not nearly enough of it. “Until the tournament at least. I’m certain the council knows, or at least suspects, I can do magic, but since the only people I’ve shown are keeping it to themselves, there’s no proof as of yet. That, backed with those in high rank and from other countries who are expecting to see me in the tournament, to see if I really can do magic or am just faking it, is enough to keep the danger away for now.”

  “Just for now?”

  “We’re trying to figure out a way to show so many people I can do magic at once that the council has no choice but to leave me be. It’s more danger for our family, though.”

  Bethany wraps her arms around me, her soft voice full of surety. “Chardonia needs to see this, even if it means putting our family in jeopardy.”

  Emotion burns my eyes at her words.

  “We’ll be here for you.” Serena takes a deep breath, her voice quivering. “I’ll be here for you, supporting you as much as I can so you can do this.”

  The tears come harder but with them a new resolve. “I’ll do my best.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ever since Serena and Bethany’s all-too-short visit, I miss the girls more than ever. The days are long, full of practicing and longing to be with them. Waverly picks up on my mood, though, and spends extra time with me. Most of it is spent practicing magic.

  Today we’re in the ballroom. Not as big and grand as the one at Zade’s house, but more than ample space to practice. All we really need is a circle of space that’s much too confined.

  “Let’s try again,” Waverly says.

  “I just don’t want to hurt you.” I’m currently working on mastering spell that Lukas taught me which isn’t lethal but leaves a painful sting.

  She huffs, probably upset that we’ve had this conversation too many times today. And the rest of the week. “You are competing in a tournament which requires you to throw hexes at others. If you can’t do that, you’re not going to come out alive.”

  “I know. I know.” A sudden urge to stamp my foot like Sally does overtakes me. No point in me acting like one of my younger sisters, though, no matter how much I want to. “You’re not a warlock. It’d be so much easier to hex them.” Though that thought still leaves me feeling guilty.

  “You know that’s not true.”

  I give her a look.

  “Oh, don’t give me that. You can’t hex Lukas any better than you can hex me.”

  I scuff the teal-spelled line making up the circle with the toe of my boot. It flashes bronze every time I touch it. “That’s different.”

  “It's not, Cynthia. You have to change your frame of mind. What if you two end up competing against each other? You’d have to cast a spell against him or lose.”

  My stomach tightens like a chain has been wrapped around it. “There’s so many people entering. I doubt we’ll be paired against each other.”

  “True, but what if you are?” When I don’t respond, she continues, “Or what if you’re paired with someone who turns out to be as nice as Lukas? Chardonians aren’t the only ones competing, you know.”

  “I’ll channel my father.”

  “Then channel him now.”

  Raising my hand, I call my magic together picturing a horde of bees stinging her, but as soon as I see her face, I drop my hands. “I just don’t want to become him.”

  Waverly puffs out a breath and crashes though the spelled circle, flashing it bronze for a moment before leaving me alone inside its teal bounds. “You’re not like your father.”

  “How can you know that? You weren’t there. You didn’t see what I did to Edward. You didn’t see how I relished it. Part of me still relishes it. There has to be a way I can win without becoming like them.”

  She comes back over to me, wiping the spelled ring away with a flick of her wrist as she does so. The sharp, frustrated lines of her face have smoothed into worried frown creases. “You aren’t like them, Cynthia. You’re nothing like them.”

  “Maybe. But I feel like I’m drifting closer to being like them than I should. One day, I’m afraid I’ll realize I’ve become just like them, and worse, I won’t even care.”

  “That’s the difference between you and them. You do care. You don’t want to become like them and you’re staying aware of it. As long as you keep doing that, you’ll be fine.”

  “What happens when I get to the tournament and I start hexing all of them? What if it feels good to get back at them after so many years bowing to them?” Even now, I’m wishing that Chancellor Ryan was participating instead of helping the judges. That’s one warlock I’d love to throw a hex at, and that thought only proves how all too right my concerns are. “The tournament is going to change things. It’s going to change me.”

  “I can’t deny that you’ll change,” Waverly says. “But that doesn’t mean you have to become a worse person for it. Zade competed last year. Do you count him in the
same group as the other warlocks?”

  “Well, no. But he’s not from here. He’s grown up learning different things than I have. What if it all wears off on me?”

  “Councilman Daniel is from here and is very kind. And what about Jacob? The man who Thomas defeated grew up in Chardonia, but he worked hard for women’s rights and finding kindness and balance while he was a Chancellor, part of the council.”

  She has a point. “I’m just scared.”

  “I know you are. It’s perfectly fine for you to be. In fact, I’d be more worried if you weren’t.” She wraps her arms around me. “You’re going to be just fine.”

  She may be right, but chancing it worries me. I don’t want to lose myself while trying to find myself.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Waverly left this morning saying she was bringing back a surprise. I’m not sure what it is, but it had her awake early. When I finally hear the front door open, I don’t wait for her, but rush to greet her. When I get to the hall and see who’s standing in the entry behind her, I run faster.

  “Katherine!” We hug, and I laugh. “I didn’t think the surprise was going to be a person.”

  “I figured it was about time I visited this part of Chardonia. Make sure there are no new fashions for the tournament I’m missing out on.”

  I can’t stop smiling as I look at her, even though it’s still difficult to get used to her altered appearance. Her tattoos glow fuchsia today, portraying the color the warlock is in charge of the tarnished has decided it needs to be, I suppose. But her eyes are bright with something that she always seems to carry with her.

  “You’ll be staying through the tournament then?”

  “Just staying for the night. Business calls me away, but I will return for the tournament.”

  “I’ll set up a room for you, Katherine,” Waverly says. “You two chat. Come find me when you’re finished.”

  “I can help,” Katherine says.

  Waverly waves her away. “I want to do it. You two catch up.”

  She hurries from the room. I ask, “What are you doing here? I can't believe it's just fashion. You seem to keep up with it well enough without traveling.”

  “I’ve come to help.”

  “Ummm…” The fact that she wants to help is fantastic, except she’s a seamstress. What could she know about magic? “Do you know what I’m doing?”

  “Entering the tournament. I assume you can cast spells somehow?”

  “It’s supposed to be kept a secret how much I actually can do, but yes, I can cast spells. And not just me, but any woman with magic can.”

  “I didn’t think it possible.”

  “Apparently, the council has been working to keep it a secret, but I’m attempting to change that. Waverly and Lukas have been helping me hone my abilities. Did you know Waverly cast most of the spells for Serena’s ball?”

  “Lukas, huh?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Not 'Lukas of Chryos', or 'Lukas, the most handsome warlock I’ve ever met in my life, who saved me from living on the streets'?”

  I swat her shoulder.

  “Fine. Don’t give me details,” she says.

  “It sounds like you already have them.”

  “You’re the one that wrote them to me.”

  The urge to stick my tongue at her is strong, but since I learned that from Lukas, it feels too much like proving her point. “Fair enough. Though I might not have been as liberal with the descriptions if I knew it would turn to teasing.”

  She laughs. “I don’t think you would have been able to help yourself. I’m looking forward to seeing these… how did you put it? ‘Charming good looks’ for myself.”

  I turn away from her as I feel the blush coming on. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “You didn’t answer mine.”

  I sigh, a big, dramatic one.

  “If you must be that way,” she says, “I’ll pry the details of this Lukas out of you sooner or later. Or I suppose I could just ask him anything I want to know.”

  Mortified by the thought, but just a little curious to see what she would ask and how he would respond, but mostly mortified, I change the topic back to more neutral territory. “You’re here to help? Can you do magic as well?”

  “No, I don’t cast spells. If I did, things may have turned out differently for me.”

  “You’d be erased and sacrificed instead of tarnished.”

  She presses her lips together like she’s trying to keep her words from spilling out.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

  “It’s not that. I—Well, I—” She sighs and shakes her head. “I’m not here to help with the magic. I’m here to provide any attire you’d like for the tournament. I didn’t know if your current wardrobe would be suitable or not.”

  “Oh.” The thought hadn’t even occurred to me. “What does one wear to duel in a tournament when one is a girl?”

  “We can start with the basics and build on them. What do the warlocks wear?”

  “You don’t know? I thought you knew everything there is to know about clothes.”

  She shrugs. “I’ve never been to a tournament before, and when I asked Serena about it, she was trying so hard not to get upset over your situation that nothing she said was of any use. I figured I might as well come here and speak with you myself.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Beyond glad. Though I don’t know how far I can stretch my coins to pay her. She’s probably going to insist on doing it for free, but I’ll make sure she gets compensated for it. It’s a wonder how she manages a thriving business when she’s always offering to do so much for free.

  “Do you remember the warlocks’ attire?”

  “The warlocks all wore breeches and shirts in black. Each participant had a band around their arm, the color depicting which country they’re from.”

  “Sounds like a uniform.” She taps her lip with a finger. “I wonder how mandatory they are.”

  “The paperwork says more on it. The kitchen is just through there.” I point down a side hall. “Why don’t you go have a seat, and I’ll grab them for you to look over while I make us a snack.”

  “Sounds wonderful after the journey here.”

  She hurries in the direction I indicated while I fetch the paperwork out of my room and follow after her to the kitchen. Only when I get there, she’s not sitting down; she’s busily making something in the kitchen. “I didn’t mean you needed to cook.”

  “Oh, posh. I like to. Besides, I was sitting in that carriage for much too long. I’m done sitting for a while, I think. It will only take me another minute. I’m not doing anything fancy. Though there will be enough for Waverly, if you’d like to see if she wants to join us.”

  Waverly is eager to join, adding cookies and milk to Katherine’s sandwiches. A few minutes later, when everything is ready, we sit at the table with the paperwork spread out before us.

  “The colors are strict.” I point out the part about each country’s colors. “But I don’t see anything beyond that. I don’t remember specifics from last year as to what the men wore. I was concentrating on other things.” Like magic, even when everyone else thought it was the warlocks themselves.

  “I bet you were.”

  I thread my fingers through my necklace, pretending I didn’t hear. “It was hard not to get caught up in it all. I’ve never seen so many spells in one place before. I just wanted to devour them all, take the knowledge back to father's, and try them. Though I didn’t go to father's for a long time after that. Which was a very good thing. There were more opportunities to practice at Zade’s then I had ever found at father's.”

  “Sounds like Zade became a good thing for more than just Serena.”

  “He’s great at talking to us or giving us space when we need it. Plus he’s just nice. Usually. He’s not very happy with me right now.”

  “Oh no. He lost his temper again, didn’t he?”

  “Not without my help pushing him t
here.” I give a sheepish grin. “Look at all of this. I was trying to trade my ownership to another warlock so it would help take pressure off of Serena. Show everyone she was like the rest of them. Instead, I went marching past all of the rules and am bringing more attention than ever.”

  “It’s fine. Serena never was like the rest of them anyway.”

  She most definitely is not. But now things are so much worse. I hold back tears. “He’s afraid I’m putting them at risk. And he’s right, I am. I let my ownership get transferred thinking it would be easier for them, but when Edward took me away and came after me like a mad man, I couldn’t take it. And I feel like I’ve failed them in the process. There’s even more weight on my family. Two misfit girls with the status of a warlock. That can’t help anyone.”

  Waverly says, “It can help more people than you realize.”

  “It’s true,” Katherine adds. “Did you know more women are coming to me to design and make their clothing? And sometimes, when they come, they want to speak about more than just clothes.”

  “Really?” I try not to get my hopes up that this has anything to do with me, but it’s the only time I’ve heard about anything good coming from what’s happened to Serena and me outside my own family. “What do they want to talk about? Do many people know about my freedom? Do they know I’m participating in the tournament?”

  “Many do. Since you entered the tournament, word has spread about both your freedom and your entry. And they know you’re Serena’s sister, my best customer, so it leads to all sorts of gossip. Which is great for business.” She winks at me.

  I’m starting to wonder what business, exactly, she’s in. It sounds like more than just dresses. “And yet you’re here instead of there taking care of them all.”

  “Posh. I have workers for things like that.” She waves me away.

  She’s always so open. I have to ask. “Are your workers all tarnished as well?”

  “They are.”

  I lower my voice, not for fear of someone overhearing, but out of respect for her. “How are you doing with the new laws?”