“Then tell me what you know,” I said, trying to sound brave, though I felt ill. “Tell me what I can do. I don’t trust Esmeralda. But at least she’ll tell me how magic works. If I’m going to fix this, I need you to help me.”
“There’s no fix. You die or you end up here. This is better.”
I didn’t believe that for a second. There had to be a way, a path that didn’t lead to madness or early death. I was going to find it. I opened my mouth to tell her.
Instead, a question bubbled out. “Why did you lie to me?” Sarafina closed her eyes, then opened them. Turned to look at me—really look at me—for the first time since she’d tried to kill herself. “I never lied.”
“But magic is real. I’ve seen—”
“I was trying to make it unreal by denying it. I wasn’t lying.”
“But what about all those things you told me? You said there was no electricity in her house. There is. That she sacrificed babies—”
“I never lied.”
“What are the black and purple feathers for? What do they do? How much danger am I in?”
But Sarafina was gone, her eyes filmed over again with the drugs they’d given her. The unripe lemon taste filled my mouth, and something sharp and jolting filled my nostrils. I gagged, my eyes watering, as I realised what it was: I could taste and smell my mother’s madness.
Also by Justine Larbalestier
Magic Lessons
Magic or Madness Page 23