Chantress (22 page)

I avoided her eyes. “I know.”

“Be more resolute,” Lady Helaine commanded. “More forceful.”

I tried again to plow through the song. But the truth was that this kind of singing did not come naturally to me—and the harder I tried, the more alien it felt, as if I were forcing my body to do something it wasn’t meant to do. My throat was rubbed raw, and even the most delicate notes scorched my chest.

Lady Helaine’s mouth was rigid. “You must work harder! Again!”

I tried again—and failed.

The silence that followed was more frigid and awful than ever.

“You are holding yourself back,” Lady Helaine accused. “You are deliberately holding yourself back.”

“I am not.” Exhausted and near tears, I tried to keep my voice even. “I am giving this everything I have.”

“So you say.” Lady Helaine twisted her bone beads so tightly I thought they would snap. “But if that is so, I can only conclude I was wrong about your gift. You don’t have the promise and power I thought you did. Perhaps what power you had has been used up already.”

I looked at her, horrified. “Is that possible?”

“Anything is possible with Wild Magic.” She shut her eyes, as if the very sight of me disgusted her. “Whatever the reason, it is clear my training is wasted on you. Our lessons are over.”

“But—”

“No pleading. You are a grave disappointment, a sad end to a great family. And I am done with you.” She stalked to the door that led to her bedchamber and slammed it shut behind her.

I stood by the fire, shaking. How could she walk out on me like that?

Because she knows you’ll never be worth anything,
my mind whispered.
You’re the last of your line, an utter failure.

No. I could not afford to listen to such thoughts.
I will succeed,
I told myself.
I will practice again and again until I succeed.

But the sentences sounded hollow as I said them. What echoed more loudly were Lady Helaine’s words:

You are a grave disappointment.

I am done with you.

I paced the room, trying to drive the sound of her voice away. But the smoky walls seemed to close in on me like a coffin, smothering me until I could hardly draw breath . . . .

I had to get out. I had to. I had to.

I snatched up a lantern, scrabbled at the door latch, and ran off.

At first, the running itself was all I was aware of, that and the sheer relief of escape. It was a while before I realized where my feet were taking me: to the meeting chamber of the Invisible College.

As good a place as any, I supposed. And since it was well hidden, perhaps better than most.

I slipped into the deserted chamber, set my lantern on a table, and looked around. I had come here several times during my explorations with Nat, but it felt strange to be here alone. The room was built for a crowd, and the chairs were arranged so that it seemed as if I had an audience before me. I remembered the mind-reading I had done here, and where it had led, and I shivered.

Not a comfortable room, in any respect. And to make matters worse, there on the table before me was an unlit candle almost exactly the same size and shape as the one I had been trying to
light with Lady Helaine. Norrie would say it was a sign. At least, she would if she were able to bear being here.

But a sign of what? Of my failure? Of my shame?

Was it a sign that I should keep trying?

I gripped the table. What if I were to sing right here, without Lady Helaine standing over me, carping and criticizing? Could I make the song-spell work?

A ghost of a hope, but it put new heart into me. Before my resolve could fade, I focused on the candle and started to sing.

Nothing happened. Three times I tried, but the candle sat cool and lifeless before me.

I covered my face. Was it true, what Lady Helaine said—that my magic was gone? Would I never sing an enchantment again?

I could think of only one way to find out. My hand went to the ruby around my neck. If I took it off and heard no music, then I would know my magic was gone indeed.

But did I truly dare to take it off? The stone was my one protection against the dangers of Wild Magic—dangers that seemed all the more perilous after these long weeks where I had lived safe from its influence. What if I
did
hear Wild Magic? What then?

Mouth dry, I eased the ruby over my head.
I won’t listen for more than a second,
I promised myself.
But I have to know if there’s any magic left.

The chain cleared my head. For a desolate moment, there was nothing but silence. My heart fell.

An instant later, the world burst into music—encircling me, charming me, delighting me.

Only a second, that’s what I had promised myself. But the joy of hearing Wild Magic consumed me. It was as if I had buried half of myself alive, and only now was whole again.

The songs pulled at me and played with me, begging me to give voice to them.

I will not sing,
I told them. And I meant it. But what harm would it do to listen? I let the ruby drop beside the candle as I listened to the melodies flying around the room. Perhaps it was only an illusion, but I felt as if I half understood what they were saying to me. Had I become a better listener because of my training? If so, perhaps those endless drills had been worth it.

As I stood there, wondering, a soft and sparkling melody caught my attention. It spoke of flame and heat and light and warmth, and it came from the candle—or more precisely, from the air
above
the candle.

It was a song for kindling flame.

Or so my mind told me. Unless it was the song itself that spoke to me? Either way, it was impossible not to notice the kinship between this song and the song-spell I had been trying to master.

I listened to the song again. It was cheerful and bright, like a candle in the window on a dark winter’s night. There was nothing of terror in it, nothing of the raven’s fire. It seemed as safe as a song could be.

I hummed one note, and then another.
One song. How much could it hurt to sing one song?

It was daytime, so the Shadowgrims were asleep; if I worked a very small bit of Wild Magic now, they would not smell it. And
if it worked, then I would know I could still make magic. Surely that was worth something.

I let the song take hold of me. It couldn’t be sung in my godmother’s style, with my breath rigidly controlled. Instead, it needed me to bend and curve around it, nurturing the music and the spark within.

A last trilled note, and a flash of heat shot through me—nothing like the Shadowgrims’ scalding terror but instead a dancing, golden light.

The candle ignited.

I stared at its glowing wick. Fire. I had created fire from song. After the first shock, jubilation coursed through me. I was a Chantress, and my power still burned bright.

“What in Hades was that?”

I whirled around. Nat stood a few feet behind me, bristling like a wildcat.

I took a step back, hiding the necklace in the folds of my skirts. “What are you doing here?”

“I got home last night. I was coming to see you.” His eyes swung from me to the flame and then back again. “Why aren’t you wearing your stone?”

I didn’t want to tell him, but I didn’t need to.

“You’re doing Wild Magic,” he said an appalled second later. He made it sound like murder in cold blood.

I lifted my chin. “And what if I am? It’s my business, not yours.”

“What you do is everyone’s business. Our lives are tied to yours. And here you are, playing with fire.” Anger blazed in his face,
and he stepped toward me, so close that I could see the gold flecks in his eyes. “Who put you up to this? Your godmother?”

“No! She’d have my head if she knew. Please don’t tell her.” I spoke quickly, quietly, willing him to understand. “It was an experiment, that’s all.”

“An experiment?” He sounded incredulous.

“Yes. Like your own.”

“But you could have burned us alive, girl. You could have blown up Gadding House—”

“The way you nearly did, with those firebox experiments?” That silenced him. “Admit it: Your work is as dangerous as mine. But that doesn’t stop you from doing it. Not when there’s something you need to find out. So why shouldn’t I do the same?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why? Because it’s not science? Because I’m a girl?”

“Because you’re doing magic.”

I scowled at him. “Why am I even bothering to argue with you? Where magic is concerned, your mind’s completely closed. You hate everything about it, me included.”

He looked at me, startled. “I never said I hated you.”

“You said I was like the Shadowgrims.” It still rankled.

He reddened. “That was before I really knew you.”

His words caught me by surprise. Was he saying he’d changed his mind?

“Your magic’s more complicated than I thought,” he said. “It’s not free, and it’s not easy. You work hard for it, as hard as I work at my own craft. Maybe even harder.”

I drew a deep breath. It was the most praise I’d had in weeks—and it was coming from the person I’d least expected to offer it.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that your magic is dangerous,” he went on, his eyes grave. “What if the smell of it pulls in the Shadowgrims?”

“Whatever smell there is will be long gone by night.”

“Maybe so. But your godmother said there were other perils too—that Wild Magic could deceive you and hurt you.” He shook his head. “What possessed you, Lucy? Isn’t her kind of magic good enough for you?”

“I had to,” I said. “I had to know—”

“Know what?”

“Whether I could still do magic.” It felt like a confession.

There was a long silence.

“Whatever made you think you couldn’t?” he asked.

“Never mind.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “What?” It was clear he would dog me till he got an answer.

“It hasn’t been going well,” I admitted. “No matter what I try, I can’t seem to master Lady Helaine’s sort of magic.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So you thought you’d turn to Wild Magic instead—despite the risks?”

“It wasn’t that risky. Nothing like mind-reading. All I did was light one small candle.” Stepping back from him, I blew on the wick. “Look: It’s gone out.”

I’d meant that to be the end of it, but the song of flame lingered in the air, and the urge to make music and magic was still strong in me.

Nat stepped forward, his voice tense. “You’re not going to light it again, are you?”

“It’s harmless enough. You’ll see.” I let the song rise from my lips, sure it would be the same, and wanting to prove to him how very safe it was. But the anger inside me, the tumult of the argument, the weight of Nat’s disapproving gaze—all of it fed into the music. I softened my voice and bent into the song, trying to tame it. Yes, that was better. The song was still powerful, yet more controlled . . .

Someone rushed toward me, breaking my concentration.

“What are you doing?” Lady Helaine shrieked. “Stop! Stop at once!”

The song inside me exploded, and flames shot into the air.

As the flame flared and hissed down toward the candle, Lady Helaine roared, “What do you think you are doing?”

Panicked, I slung the ruby necklace over my head. The music in the room vanished, and the flame subsided to a pinpoint of light on the wick. In the sudden silence, all I could hear was Lady Helaine’s ferocious growl as she stood before me, fury in her eyes.

“Did you think me a fool, that I would not know the sound of Wild Magic when I heard it?”

My mood of defiance was slipping into shades of doubt, but I held my head high. “I thought you were done with me.”

“Not when you behave like this.” Lady Helaine turned on Nat. “You.” She spat the word out. “What did you do to encourage this?”

“He did nothing,” I said before he could speak. “He is as angry with me as you are.”

“Then you may go,” Lady Helaine told Nat. When he did not move, she raised her voice. “I said go!”

Nat looked at me, and to my surprise, it wasn’t anger I saw in his face but concern. “Do you want me to stay?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head. This was my battle, not his. “Please go.”

After he left, Lady Helaine said in a low, stony voice, “You drive me to despair, goddaughter. You scoff at everything I teach you, and then you practice Wild Magic behind my back—”

“Only this once! And only because you said I had no power left—”

“I do not wish to hear your excuses,” my godmother said, still in that harsh voice. “I know the truth now: Something in you is resisting me. Something in you is determined to follow the wrong path.”

“But I—”

“You are just like your mother.” Lady Helaine’s voice cracked across mine like a whip.

My breath caught in my throat. What did this have to do with my mother?

“She had power enough for both of us, more power even than I. But she would not listen.” Lady Helaine’s burning eyes looked straight through me, as if she were seeing a ghost. “You must be exact, I told her. You must be careful. You must practice and practice and practice. She was my ward and my apprentice; she was duty-bound to listen to me. But she dismissed me at every turn—exactly as you do. Every gift I offered, she scorned.”

Was this true? It didn’t sound like the gentle mother I remembered. But Norrie had said that my mother and Lady Helaine had not gotten along, and perhaps this was why . . . .

“Wild Magic was the only magic that interested her,” Lady Helaine said. “I warned her to steer clear of it. I told her I would not tolerate such doings under my roof.” Her mouth crumpled. “I never thought she would run away.”

I did not know what to say. Lady Helaine seemed to be speaking to someone else in the room, not to me.

A moment later, her eyes focused on me, as if she were suddenly remembering I was there. “I saw her only twice after that,” she added more calmly. “The first time, she brought you, a babe in arms. She knew that by Chantress law, I was your godmother, the eldest of your close-born kin, and she came to me to make your stone. Even with her love of Wild Magic, she knew you must have one. Young Chantresses are too vulnerable without it; they can be carried off by any devious music that crosses their path.