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Lady Death's Diary: Chapter 11
🕑 Added 2021-05-26 15:01:01 +0000 UTCDragon whinnied and tossed his head. The stable enclosure didn’t give him enough room to rear, but he stomped his hoof warningly as I approached.
“I’ve another apple for you.” I grinned as the stallion eyed me warily. “Don’t give me that look: I’ve reformed. It’s not poisoned.”
Dragon’s lips tickled my outstretched palm as he delicately accepted my offering. His panicked breaths slowed as he chewed. I patted the side of his neck. If only everyone were this easy to win over.
Since Letty’s debut, Loren made no attempt to conceal his interest in my stepsister. Armond hadn’t been the only one to notice their increasing intimacy over the past year. His jibes had been less subtle than those from other courtiers, but no less frequent. Most everyone seemed convinced that Letty was all but set to take my place. Her status as a commoner was unfortunate, of course, but the general consensus was that the star-crossed romance between handsome prince and pretty peasant was dreadfully romantic and it really would be best if I stepped aside. That Letty was more interested in fashion than politics was considered appealing rather than a detriment. Nobles fought to keep their power from the hands of the Council; in turn, the Council hoarded every ounce of authority they gained. Both were too occupied with petty squabbles to care overmuch for the people of Verdan. Neither wanted a queen who actually sought to govern.
Dragon huffed through his nose but nevertheless allowed me to lift up his foreleg and examine it. He’d belonged to Loren until an overambitious leap had landed poorly. Loren had escaped unscathed, but the horse was permanently maimed. Loren had adopted a new younger gray as his main mount. I, however, had begged him to gift me Dragon. He’d only acquiesced after I’d begrudgingly recruited Letty to help plead my cause.
“Better to sell him back to Argyl as a stud,” Loren had warned. “He’ll never race again.” I’d muttered something that sounded akin to agreement before promptly requesting Delphine to teach me healing magic. Practice, I justified internally, in case I got injured in the next assassination attempt. In truth, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship with the animal: we were both the Prince’s castoffs.
Loren’s invitations to me now always included my stepsister. His present on my sixteenth birthday had been a book on Tivall family history; on Letty’s birthday, he’d gifted her a bracelet that had belonged to his mother. I did my best to ignore their flirtation—one would think that I’d become immune to a wounded ego, having lived through the blossoming of their relationship seven times already. But repetition only made me more keenly aware of just how unwelcome my presence was. I picked up on cues that had eluded me in my past lives: the way Loren’s eyes brightened whenever Letty walked into the room, Letty’s constant blushes, her obvious discomfort whenever I walked in on the two of them conversing in private. With Theo still in Anterdon, I felt overwhelmingly alone.
I had tried to distract myself by devoting more energy to my lessons with Delphine. Unfortunately, it soon became clear that ability to work sorcery did not correlate to natural talent. Nearly every spell left me with a splitting headache, with the exception of the slowing spell that I first mastered. Being able to heat your own tea was markedly less useful when your entire head throbbed for two hours afterwards. Delphine said such suffering was more or less typical in mages—most considered it fair payoff for being able to work wonders. It explained why so few mages at Court openly used their powers the way she did.
“It’s not fair. You never seem to have any headaches,” I’d whined after a particularly grueling session of learning to fade bruises.
Delphine had laughed. “There’s a reason I’m the Court Sorceress, darling. It’s not only because His Majesty would be constantly sleep deprived without my tinctures. Now, try to recall the last diagram you examined. You must be aware of how the body first works in order to restore it.”
It had taken months of migraine-inducing lessons, but I’d finally become proficient enough at knitting flesh to attempt fixing Dragon’s old injury. I ran my fingers over his scarred forelock.
“Us rejects have to look out for one another,” I informed him quietly.
He nuzzled at my shoulder before lowering his head to my skirt pocket in search of another apple. After his accident, Dragon had lashed out to any who dared approached. Bushels of fruit had been forfeited before he’d even allowed me inside his stall.
I slowed down my breathing to match his heavy huffs, using my mind’s eye to pull up an image of a horse’s foreleg from the veterinary journals I’d spent the past months studying. The way the tendons and joints interlocked in order move. Were supposed to connect. My fingers tingled from the dissonance between what I was seeing and the way Dragon’s tendons warped beneath them.
“Pastos.” I braced myself for the expected onslaught of agony.
The prickling in my hands intensified to a pulse-throbbing buzz as energy poured out of my fingertips and set to fix Dragon’s leg. The high-strung horse remained blessedly still—one move, one distraction, and the joint would heal askew. Delphine had healed me once after I’d sprained my wrist falling off a ladder in the library, so I’d personally experienced healing magic’s soothing warmth.
If only it felt as pleasant to work. By the time Dragon’s leg was completely mended, my head throbbed as if legions of soldiers banged their shields and bellowed war cries. I smiled wearily at Dragon.
“Good as new,” I said. “Or it will be, once you strengthen it up.”
Dragon set his hoof gingerly back on the stable floor. When the pain he expected didn’t come, he pranced experimentally. His black mane shook wildly in what I assumed was the equine equivalent of a happy dance.
Relief washed over me, almost making me forget my headache. It had worked. “I know you probably want go for a run right now. I, however. . .” I winced, my vision beginning to blur around the edges. “I need a nap.”
*****
After a few hours rest, the battalion marching through my head had decreased enough in manpower that I felt able join Delphine for our evening lessons. I shut the door to her study carefully behind me. No need for loud noises. Healing had by far been the largest magic I’d ever worked, and the migraine afterwards corresponded in severity.
“You’ll have to follow up with him in a few weeks’ time,” instructed Delphine after I’d told her of my success. “By then the leg should have settled and he may be able to bear a rider. In the meantime, you have another letter.”
I accepted the thick envelope eagerly and tucked it into my skirt to read later. Letty had recruited Emilia to help her alter some of my day dresses with pockets for after I’d complained about my difficulty keeping track of my lesson notes. I had to admit that the modification made life easier, even given its source.
“Your envelope weighs twice mine,” Delphine groused good naturedly. “You and Xander must discuss topics other than my strictness.”
“We’re debating Goodman Coreson’s newest paper,” I said. “Xander disagrees with him and claims it’s better to represent one’s home country by wearing one’s native costume. I suspect he’d seize any excuse not to wear an Anterdonain kilt, though. He says they’re quite short.”
The correspondence between Xander and me had begun almost a month after his departure from Bellcrest, when I’d included a missive to him with one of my letters to Theo. He’d accidentally left one of his own books, On the Fair Usage of Taxes by Lord Ulysses Evaron, in the group returned to Delphine. I’d included a note that a commoner might have a better grasp of what constituted as fair usage of their taxes than a nobleman known more for his dalliances than political astuteness, and recommended the works of Madam Beatrice Canterburn. He had asked me to send a copy as Verdan authors were difficult to get a hold of in Anterdon. I’d complied, and Xander had sent back a treatise written by Ambassador Leonidas himself in return. We’d continued to trade books, and our oftentimes conflicting opinions on them, back and forth over the course of this past year.
I appreciated his unexpected friendship. Given my numerous deaths, I found it difficult to form connections when I was half certain my demise would render the relationship pointless or that anyone new would either end up betraying me like Letty. It was easier to trust someone too physically far away to do any harm.
Delphine commented, “It’s wonderful to see my son and my apprentice bonding over their shared love of arguing. I admit to feeling almost left out.”
“I have a copy of Coreson’s work in my room that I’d be happy to get for you,” I offered.
“That’s quite all right.” Delphine showed an almost criminal disinterest in politics given her high position in Court, not to mention her relationship with His Majesty. I wondered briefly what King Eldin and her talked about, given she was so unconcerned by the facets of his job. Perhaps that was why he liked her—because she genuinely didn’t care that he ruled.
“Now that you’ve mastered healing, I thought we might move on to illusions,” she said, changing the subject before I could suggest an alternative text. “These are spells meant to deceive the senses. To make people hear, see, and even smell something not there.”
“Will I learn how to turn invisible?” I’d long desired the ability to mask my presence. People couldn’t kill what they couldn’t find.
“Eventually, though such a spell is taxing even for me. We’ll begin small.” She pulled off one of her many rings and held it up near the open window. “Illusionary magic works upon the mind of the viewer rather the object itself. Now, convince me that this stone is blue.”
I examined the oval gem set in a braided ring of gold. The topaz winked at me mockingly in the sunlight. “It’s yellow.”
Delphine tossed me the ring. My fumble sent it sliding down the front of my dress, where my body’s new developments left an exposed gap between my breasts. I bent down to pick the ring up off the carpet, blushing as Delphine cackled.
“I know it’s yellow, and you know it’s yellow. Tell me that it’s blue. Lie to me,” she commanded, “with conviction.”
Lying was a practice I’d become adept with over the course of my many lives. Pretending to eat at Lady Geneva’s monthly dinners. My reasons for learning sorcery. No one knew true me. Convincing someone that a stone was blue? Child’s play.
I stared directly into Delphine’s green eyes and offered her back the ring. My other hand grabbed hers as she reached to take it, holding it firmly in place so that it completely covered the ring. Both of us could feel the stone digging into our palms but neither could see it.
“What a beautiful piece of jewelry!” I injected every ounce of enthusiasm I possessed into my voice. I thought of books, Dragon, of Xander’s letter. Of surviving. Everything that brought me joy. Imagined the ring was among them. “Tell me, is it a sapphire? Such a deep blue hue—like the ocean or a stormy sky. Why, I’ve never seen such a strikingly dark gem. You must usually wear it with your indigo satin—the colors match so well!”
Delphine bit her lip to keep from smiling at my over-the-top cheer. “The stone is yellow, I believe.”
I scrunched up my nose as if confused and kept a firm hold on her hand. “One might say it has a greenish glint in the right lighting, but no, it’s definitely as blue as the petals of an iris or dreamroot in winter. Why, it’s almost exactly the same color as that vase over there,” I gestured to a royal blue glass on the windowsill, “or the cover of that book on the table.”
“That was somewhat disturbingly well done, Tru,” said Delphine. “Certainly better than I expected. Now, let us see the ring once more.”
I released my grip. Delphine held the up once more to the sunlight.
It was still yellow.
“Mejno.” At Delphine’s spell, the stone darkened to the exact shade of blue I’d been imagining. She chuckled at my gasp. “To cast an illusion, you must first convince yourself that what you see is different than what actually exists. Once you view the stone as blue, it’s easy enough to transfer that belief to another.”
I frowned. “The illusion won’t take effect unless I’m aware of its target?” That was less useful than I’d hoped. “It can’t be cast on the ring itself?”
She slipped the still blue-colored gem back on her finger. “Different incantations work upon the object itself, but those are much more complex. Only a handful of mages are even capable of casting those spells.”
“You among them.”
She inclined her head, acknowledging her exceptionality as if it were a given. “But given how even small spells seem to tax you, alteration magic may prove beyond your reach.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “You have a vast amount of magical potential. However, you’re even more susceptible to negative side effects than the average spellcaster. I wonder why. It’s like someone who can drink their weight in wine without passing out but is prone to horrible hangovers the next morning. Only you can decide if the party is worth it.”
I arched a brow at her metaphor. “I can’t say I know what a hangover feels like.”
She brushed aside my comment with a wave of her hand. “Similar enough to the aftermath of your healing Dragon, I imagine. But you miss my point. Deliberately, I think.” Her eyes narrowed. “What drives you to learn sorcery, Tru? To fight through your pain?”
Delphine had never pried into my motivations before. I felt like a mouse corned beneath her catlike scrutiny. Best to keep as close to the truth as possible to avoid her suspicion, since I couldn’t very well confess that a headache felt trivial after you’d actually been beheaded.
“My station is such that I could easily be a target.” I swallowed down nerves that tasted like ash. “I refuse to be a victim.” Not ever again.
“Why not take up swordplay then? Or hire a bodyguard?”
“Were I to carry a weapon, I could easily be disarmed and that same weapon turned against me. A bodyguard could be bribed or injured in my defense. No,” my voice strengthened with resolve, “I need to be able to protect myself. Magic can’t be taken away from me, nor is it likely someone would use it against me given how few licensed mages exist. And if people know I can cast spells, they might think twice before seeing me as a potential target.” At least, I hoped that my proficiency would give Letty pause.
I curtsied to Delphine before turning to leave. Loren expected Letty and I to join him at the opera tonight. I needed to change, and to escape this conversation before I revealed any more of myself.
Delphine called after me. “Someday, I hope that you’ll trust me enough to tell me the truth. Lying may be useful when casting an illusion. It’s a terribly lonely way to live.”
Comments
Jo O'Connor
True is half porcupine, but she needs a hug darn it!
Yali
Ahhh so much bonding this chapter, so satisfying to read!
