When she said we needed to talk and shadowed me back to my suite after breakfast one rest day, I had a pretty speech prepared in my mind to reassure her. But her first words took me by surprise.
“I’m worried about you, Verene. I’m worried you’re losing yourself.”
I stared at her, all my prepared sentences slipping away.
“Losing myself? What do you mean? I’ve never enjoyed classes so much. It’s amazing, Bree!”
Her face didn’t lighten. “Yes, that’s what I’m worried about. You know I was excited for you to discover you have an ability after all, but this…”
I frowned, instantly defensive, as she continued.
“You don’t just have an ability, you have a powerful one. And you haven’t told anyone about it—not even your own family.”
“But you were the one who said I shouldn’t tell them!” I protested. “And I think you were right.”
Bryony grimaced. “So do I. I stand by that advice. It’s necessary for your own protection. But the unfortunate side effect is that you’re doing your training in secret. You sit there, with none the wiser, tapping into powerful compositions—more and more of them. Nothing seems to make you pause anymore. If you had openly acknowledged your ability and were receiving guided training like the rest of us, do you really think they’d let you do so much? That they’d let you take over any composition you wanted without permission or regard for its power or destructive potential?”
I opened my mouth to retort before slowly closing it again, an unwelcome flush heating my cheeks.
“No, I’m sure they wouldn’t,” I said.
Bryony drew a long, shaky breath, and I realized for the first time how nervous she’d been about this conversation. I hadn’t even noticed—already preparing to brush her off.
“I understand that there’s no other way for you to practice, and I can see that you’re careful not to interfere too much. I’m not saying I think what you’re doing is wrong…” She drew a deep breath. “I just think power is dangerous. And I think it’s especially dangerous for someone who never had any and spent so long wishing for it.”
“You’re worried I’ll get lost in it,” I said slowly, repeating her initial comment.
“I’m sorry.” She sounded nothing like her normal, bubbly self. “I’ve been worried about saying anything in case I was just being selfish.”
“Selfish?” I frowned at her.
She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Have you even noticed that we don’t spar on rest day mornings anymore?”
“I…” I paused and looked around my suite, as if surprised to find myself here instead of out in the training yards with my sword in my hand. “It’s gotten so cold,” I finally said, without conviction.
“I don’t get the impression you’ve been spending time at the library like you used to anymore either. Isabelle mentioned something the other day about hardly ever seeing you there.”
A heavy silence sat between us that I couldn’t remember ever experiencing with Bryony before. I thought back to all those unhappy glances she’d thrown me from the front of various classrooms. Embarrassment flooded me at how condescendingly I’d responded, even if it had only been within my own mind.
I hadn’t noticed my own obsession or the distance it was driving between us. I had been drunk on the power of the compositions I was stealing, on the access it gave me to so many minds. Not that I could read anyone’s thoughts, of course, but just dipping into their hard-won knowledge and expertise had been heady enough. How addictive it had become to feel that rush of understanding without first having to do the work to earn it.
Another thought intruded. Darius.
Bryony wasn’t the only one I had abandoned when my quest for distraction had proven so effective. I had told myself to guard my heart, but instead I had tried to drive him from my mind. And in the process, I had forgotten my responsibilities. I had promised I would help him as the representative of Ardann. But what had I done to contribute?
I looked back at Bryony’s strained face. In my quest to escape my own emotions, I had hurt one of my closest friends—someone who had stood by me like family and always watched my back. Now that I saw the damage, I was horrified. How had I not recognized what was happening?
Nothing had ever mattered more to me than helping those I loved. It was the only reason I had desired to have power in the first place. Bryony was right. I had been losing myself.
“I’m so sorry.” I threw my arms around her with a sob. “You’re utterly and completely right. I’ve been a complete fool. And a horrible friend. I don’t know why you put up with me.”
She disentangled herself with a watery smile. “We’re basically cousins, aren’t we? Which means I’m obligated to put up with you.” Her smile grew. “And besides, even at your most abstracted, you were still better company than Dellion would be.”
I chuckled weakly. “I’m not sure how much reassurance I can really draw from that comparison.”
“In all seriousness, though, you’re a good friend, Verene. I wouldn’t want you to doubt that. I’ll admit, when we were children, I was just desperate to have a friend to play with—any friend I didn’t have to keep secrets from. You can imagine how delighted I was the first time we visited your family when I discovered we were the same age.” She smiled in fond reminiscence. “And then when we got older, I liked how determined you were despite not having any ability at all. Sometimes my own ability felt like an impossible burden, but you were never willing to let anything drag you down.”
I knew from her tone of voice that she wasn’t referring to her openly acknowledged ability to give energy, but the other, secret, one.
“Sometimes I’ve thought about how different our lives are,” she said. “I don’t mean with our abilities. I mean with your rank. You’re a princess, and you could have turned out very differently from how you did.”
“That sounds a little ominous.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s a compliment.” She gave a rueful smile. “Or it’s meant to be. I don’t mean that you’re a bad princess. I just mean that somehow despite everything, you’re willing to acknowledge when you’ve made a mistake. You’re willing to listen to me of all people and try to change. I’ve always thought that was the most important quality of all.”
“What? To be willing to listen to you?” I asked with a chuckle.
She laughed. “No, although it’s a quality I’m highly in favor of, naturally. I mean to be able and willing to acknowledge weakness and attempt change.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think I get that from my mother. She doesn’t often talk about her life back when the energy mages were known as the Tarxi and lived in hiding in the mountains. But she’s sometimes said that their problem was they couldn’t change. Or some of them couldn’t, anyway. Generations had passed, but they were still holding on to the injustices of the past and nursing their resentment. They couldn’t see that we needed a fresh start.”
“Until they did,” I said. “And I’m so glad you all came down from the mountains.”