“Enough,” she said. “I think I understand now. You see, Zakir, we have only personally witnessed Reya produce magic under two circumstances. What was the common factor in both cases?”
Devendra rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. We were about to arrest her the first time, and she was screaming at the Council the second time. So unless there’s some secret factor only you freaks are susceptible to—”
His brow furrowed, all contempt gone. “Unless you mean—both times, she was really angry.”
“Exactly. Miss Kandhari has only performed spells under extreme emotional duress,” said Sharati. She paused, letting her words sink in—I hated the fact that they were both speaking about me as though I wasn’t there. “So clearly, there’s only one way to do this.”
I don’t know what scared me more: the evil smile on her face, or the fact that Devendra seemed to be agreeing with her.
He winked at me, sending chills down my spine. “We raise the stakes,” he said.
—
“Where are we going?” I demanded as Devendra led me through another dark passage. We had climbed down so many flights of stairs that my legs felt like they had turned to liquid.
Lady Sharati snapped her fingers, illuminating another row of torchlights.
“The first time you produced magic, you were under a lot of pressure,” she said quietly. “You didn’t fear for yourself, though. You feared for—”
“Nina,” I finished. My voice trembled, and I felt my heart landslide. “No. Not Nina. You’re not—”
Sharati glanced at me with cold satisfaction. “I knew you’d understand,” she said.
Devendra knocked on an enormous iron gate, and a grim soldier opened the door. Sharati half-escorted, half-dragged me into a circular stone room, which I realized was an underground replica of the mirrored Council. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the poor lighting.
Then the opposite door opened.
“Nina!” I shouted.
She didn’t notice me at first. Nina’s face was darkened— whether from dirt or bruises, I couldn’t tell. Then she turned and saw me, and her grey eyes lit up. I felt my heart skip a beat and swell with relief.
“Reya?”
For a moment, I forgot about Devendra and Sharati and the all of the soldiers surrounding us, because all I could see was my best friend. I crossed the room in two strides, hugging her more tightly than I ever had before, because somehow, we had beaten the odds once again. In that moment, we were both alive, and that was more than I had prayed for.
Sharati nodded briskly, and the soldiers ripped Nina away before either of us had a chance to protest. “Wait,” I said frantically. “Where are you taking her?”
I lunged back towards Nina, but Sharati shouted, “Ilumino!”
My shoulder collided against a blast of solid air, sending me skidding backwards. Nina’s mouth was moving, but I couldn’t hear her through Sharati’s invisible barrier—only my own ragged breathing, and Devendra’s cruel laughter—
“This is your chance,” said Sharati coolly. “You will master the levitation spell, or Nina will die.”
I turned in horror to see Nina standing in the center of the room, just as the stone floor beneath her turned to wax. It began to froth and melt—before I could comprehend what was happening, Nina’s toes disappeared, and then her ankles, and slowly, before my eyes, my best friend was sinking into the floor.
“Stop it!” I snarled at Sharati. “You don’t have to do this—”
She shrugged impassively, making it clear that Nina’s fate was in my hands now. If I couldn’t levitate Nina out of the floor, she would drown.
I banged against the invisible wall, my pulse pounding in my ears. Already Nina’s shins had disappeared from view; she was writhing, which only served to quicken the stone vortex—knee-deep, thigh-deep—
“Rev!” I gasped, but all I could feel was my own heart, beating nauseatingly fast. “Come on!” shrieked Sharati, but I barely heard her. Nina was screaming silently from across the room—chest-deep, neck-deep—
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
And I felt it—the spark, fizzling deep in my bones, and I opened my mouth to utter the spell, but all that came out was a wordless scream—
For the second time in my life, fire spewed out of my being.
I felt the invisible wall collapse under my flames. The floor around Nina rumbled— she clambered free, covered in ash, but my fire hadn’t spared the stone around her. The floor was cracking.
My throat burned as I gasped for air—the fire was rolling, erupting in waves from the crevice I’d cut into the floor. The ringing amplified, echoing in my head. I clapped my hands over my ears, struggling to make it stop—
Sharati waved her hands through the air, and the fissure in the floor sealed itself. She pointed a finger at me—an enormous gust of wind blasted me backwards, putting out my fire. I stumbled to my feet.
Nina’s guards were dragging her out of the room. I reached for her, but I was stunned by a burst of pain across my cheek—Sharati had slapped me.
“Why can’t you focus?” she said. “It was a simple incantation, and you still managed to blow up the cellar.”
Fatigue was pulsing through me, but I forced myself to stay upright. “I don’t know,” I snarled. “I can’t—”
To my horror, she pulled the mango leaf from her robes, throwing it at my feet.
“Levitate it now,” she ordered. “Use your magic, or I swear to the gods, I will kill Nina myself.”
I felt my body shutting down, but I took one last deep breath. “Rev,” I muttered, before my knees buckled.
The leaf shot up in the air, uncontrollably fast. Right as I passed out, I saw the leaf burst into flames, like Kasmira’s smallest firecracker. Fleetingly, I imagined the mahal bursting into flames—Devendra cursed fluently as the ashes fell like snow.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sweat trickled down my brow as I paced my chambers—thirty steps north, thirty steps back.
It almost felt like a fever was pulsing through my body—I couldn't concentrate on anything else as the magic raged through me, pent-up and tingling, turning my bones to lead.
Thirty steps north, thirty steps back.
Random bursts of fire had been escaping me all afternoon, sending stabs of magic through my fingertips. The problem was, the angrier I got, the more uncontrollable my magic became.
I had woken from a haze of exhaustion to see the noon sun high over the window. When I tried to get up, I had seen that the bed was marred by burns in the precise shape of my hands. I struggled to rein in the magic, but I couldn’t—a ceramic vase across the room had been the next to explode. One of the saris had even caught fire before I managed to stamp it out with my shoes.
Now, as I sat criss-cross on the floor, my breath had calmed to quiet sobs. Because yet again, I had failed Nina. I had failed myself. I had failed my father.
There was a quiet knock on the door. I looked up and saw Naveen Chadav framed in the doorway. He was still holding his notes—as he surveyed the damage, his grip tightened on the pad.
“Can I come in?”
“I guess,” I said. “Not really ready for visitors, but—”
He stepped delicately over the broken vase and perched himself on the edge of the bed. “Wow,” he said quietly. “Which army just invaded this place?”
I glared at him, but my heart wasn’t in it. “What do you want?”
Naveen waved his notebook. “Duty calls,” he said. “Sharati wants a full report on your condition to present to his Majesty.”
He caught sight of my expression and smiled. “You know, the other scribes are drawing dice on who gets my job if you blow me up,” he said. “You’re all anyone is talking about.”
“All good, I hope,” I muttered, and he chuckled.
“I wouldn’t hear a word against you,” he promised, opening his notebook to a blank page. I watched as he fished a pen from his pocket. “Okay then,” he said.
“How are you feeling?”
“How do you think I’m feeling?” I said dully, indicating the mess around me. His lip quirked up again. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’m going to write ‘under the weather’ and call it a day.”
“Under the weather?” I said, despite myself. “That’s an understatement.”
Naveen chuckled. “Are you always this chipper, Bookweaver?” His quill flew with an intense speed across the paper that reminded me forcefully of my father. I swallowed painfully.
“I’ve seen better days,” I said.
His quill didn't stop moving, but I could sense his gaze on me. Something about him unnerved me—it was almost like his diamond eyes could see right through me. Although he wasn't older than sixteen, the depth of his gaze made him seem a thousand years older.
“What?” I said, too defensively.
Naveen looked startled. “Nothing,” he said. “You just— you seem broken.”
I glared at him. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised,” I said sullenly. “I just watched my best friend get tortured.”
Naveen looked shocked—his pupils dilated like sapphires catching the light.
“I had no idea they were allowed to do that to her,” he was saying agitatedly. “I thought his Majesty would never permit such a thing—”
I couldn't prevent the derisive laugh from escaping my lips.
“Where you been for the past seven years?” I said. “Jahan and Devendra killed hundreds of people in Bharata to capture me. They drove the Mages to the ends of the earth. Trust me, a little bit of torture is nothing for them.”
His eyes were wide, disbelieving. “I thought those people in Bharata were terrorists,” he said quietly.
My blood began to tingle, and I felt the fury rising up in me again. “You're wrong,” I choked out. “Everything the king has told you is a lie. They weren't terrorists. They were innocent, brave citizens. And Jahan murdered them.”
The magic was roaring with emotion. Before I could warn Naveen, it had ripped free from my veins—I seized my forehead as starbursts of pain ricocheted through my skull— Naveen’s notepad burst into flames—
For a moment he was frozen in shock, the burning pad still in his hand.
Then it all happened at once. I knocked the notepad out of his hand, nearly searing myself—he kicked it aside with a yelp. A tongue of flame quickly spread up the side of the bed, trapping Naveen—
“Hang on,” I gasped, knocking aside a chair in my haste to reach the bath chamber. I seized a pail at random and thrust it into the bath, spilling a quarter of the water as I tripped over my sari hem—
I would have missed it if it wasn't for the mirror over the bath.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Naveen’s reflection, his vivid hair nearly indistinguishable from the deadly fire. He slowly raised his hands. To my shock, the fire obeyed him, ebbing gently into a line of hissing ashes.
I dropped the pail, sending water gushing across the bath tiles.
“Wait. Did you just—”
Naveen froze and quickly lowered his hands. “What?” he said.
His voice was casual, but the terror on his face was as good as a confession.
“You just controlled that fire,” I said, surprised at how even my voice sounded. “The fire was about to burn you, but you put it out with your hands. You’re a Mage.”
The blood rushed back into his face. “I have to go,” Naveen muttered, backpedaling frantically towards the door.
“Wait!” I shouted, and the door slammed shut of its own accord, trapping Naveen inside. He jumped at the noise.
“I don’t think—” he started, but I interrupted.
“Naveen, can you help me?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked warily, but I scarcely heard him—a crazy, wonderful idea had just occurred to me.
“You can teach me magic!” I said excitedly. “You saw me today, I’m absolutely awful. But it looks like you’re pretty good—”
Naveen was shaking his head violently.
“I don’t think you understand,” he said. “Magic is illegal. If you told anybody about me, I could be banished.”
“Until yesterday, I was the most wanted person in the country,” I said. “Do you really think I’m in a rush to turn you into the king?”
His expression flickered. “Point taken,” he said, but the humor vanished from his face as quickly as it had come. “Believe me, I want to be able to practice in the open. More than anything,” he said at last. “But we could get into so much trouble—”
“Fine. We’ll make a deal,” I told him. “If you teach me magic when you’re supposed to be writing your report, I won’t tell anyone you’re a Mage.”
Naveen appraised me, and for a moment, I was afraid he was going to try to make another run for it. But then, surprisingly, his lip curled up.
“Am I being blackmailed?”
“It sounds bad when you put it like that,” I admitted. “But I swear I’ll keep your secret. Bookweaver’s honor.”
He sighed. “Fine,” he said, with an air of resignation. “What do you want me to teach you?”
“Everything,” I said. “Please, everything you know. I’ve never met another Mage before.”
Naveen raised his eyebrows.
“Neither have I,” he said. “For the longest time, I was alone. I thought I was going insane.”
I frowned. “But I thought magic was hereditary. Nobody in your family was a Mage?”
“Sometimes it’s hereditary,” he agreed. “For me, it was my mother.”
“Your mother?” I prodded.
His face darkened. “She died a long time ago,” he said. “So she wasn’t much help.”
I could sense that there was more to the story, but I didn’t want to press him, not when I could hear the pain in the edges of his voice. “Mine, too,” I murmured.
His eyes crinkled in sympathy. “Anyways, I found my magic at a young age. It’s always been natural to me. I had a way with water. It obeyed me.”
He saw my questioning glance and smiled. “It’s easier to show you.”
Naveen pointed a hand, almost lazily, at the puddle of water I’d spilled on the floor. And then—I stifled a gasp—the water rose at his command, forming a shimmering iridescent wall. As he inhaled and exhaled, the water mirrored him, ebbing and rippling like a translucent ribbon, conduits twisting neatly back into the pail.
“That was unbelievable,” I managed. “How did you learn to do all of that?”
Naveen shrugged modestly.
“It took a lot of practice,” he said. “When our mother died, Kira and I moved to the mahal. Being a scribe had its benefits, because I could learn as much as I wanted from the library. I read Bhasa Pratana cover to cover until I could speak Ancient Kasmiri.”
His face fell slightly. “It’s been hard, staying hidden,” said Naveen. “I haven’t told anyone about my magic, except Kira.”
The thing was, I understood.
I understood so much that I wanted to scream. Because nobody had ever been able to talk about this with me—not even Nina. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed him until Naveen was sitting before me, holding the key to my identity in his hands.
I didn’t tell Naveen this, though—I kept my voice steady, as though I was used to meeting Mages every other day. “How do you do it?” I asked. “How do you control your power like that?”
“Using magic is different for everyone,” Naveen explained. “It’s like your fingerprint. You just need to find a way to control it so that it doesn’t control you.”
I liked the way he talked—he was unabashedly intellectual, and he spoke like a book. Naveen made you feel like there was nobody he’d rather talk to, like it was his pleasure to teach you whatever you wanted to know.
“Well, judging by how today went,” I said, “I don’t think I’m there yet.”
“I couldn’t control myself at first, either,” admitted Naveen. “But
then I found my anchor.”
“Your anchor?”
He blushed a little. “I don’t know if this is how actual Mages do it,” Naveen said. “But whenever I felt like the magic was drowning me, I reminded myself I could beat it. I remembered someone who made me want to beat it. Someone who was strong enough to anchor me when things got hard.”
“Kira,” I said.
“Kira,” he agreed. “I don’t know why I got the magic gene, and my sister didn’t. But she’s always been there for me, pulling me back from the edge every time.”
He smiled. “What about you? Who anchors you?”
I felt an uncomfortable pit in my stomach. All of a sudden, I was acutely aware of just how lonely I was.
“I have nobody,” I said hollowly. I didn’t mean to sound so plaintive, but the words escaped me, painfully childlike. I couldn’t meet Naveen’s eyes—instead, I stared at the burned carpet.
“I wouldn’t say nobody,” said Naveen quietly.
I glanced up at him. There was still a faint trace of a smile on his face, but his eyes were serious. “I can help you,” he said. “I can anchor you. I can teach you to find your magic.”
“Please,” I said. “I barely know you. In the last ten minutes I’ve screamed at you, nearly scorched you, and then blackmailed you.”
“Regrettably,” said Naveen. “But even if your manners leave much to be desired, you’re the only other Mage I’ve ever met in my life. That’s not nothing to me.”
In spite of everything, I smiled. Because I knew what it felt like to be surrounded by people who could never really see you. I knew the alienation that came from feeling completely and certifiably insane. I knew the fear that the people who loved you might end up hurt—or worse—if you ever became who you truly needed to be.
And so did he.
“Okay,” I said. “How do we start?”
Naveen grinned. “Close your eyes.”
I did, and I felt his hands take mine. “Just breathe,” he said. “And when you do, I want you to find my magic. And I’ll find yours.”
I felt myself relax, inhaling and exhaling. The magic within me was bubbling, painfully hot, but Naveen’s hands were cool on mine. His presence, strange and wonderful, seemed to expand around us.
The Bookweaver's Daughter Page 12