Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(82)
Author: Alexandra Bracken
“Olwen thinks it helped amplify it,” Neve said. “But also . . . I’ve read countless times that magic is something that has to be tightly controlled, and carefully directed into a spell. Magic is so untamed and endless that the practice of memorizing an established set of sigils has always felt restrictive to me. It never made sense until Olwen explained that the priestesses’ way of calling magic is more intuitive and personal to each caster.”
I frowned. “Personal in what way?”
“You call the magic in whatever way feels good, or natural to you. The magic responds to your will, and how you picture it,” Neve said. “The spells don’t always come out exactly as you imagined, though. I think that’s why the sorceresses developed their language—so everything would be more specific. And predictable.”
“Makes sense,” I said. Personally, I’d take the certainty of the sorceresses’ method any day.
“Olwen uses humming to call it, others use song,” Neve continued. “Mari prays directly to the Goddess, and Lowri—the sister who works in the forge—she uses hand signals.”
“You screamed,” I said, remembering.
“Yeah, exactly,” Neve said. “I knew the kind of spell we needed and the scream just came out of me—there was no thought to it, just instinct. I created the spell.”
“That’s . . .” I almost didn’t have a word for it. “That makes it even more impressive. But knowing there’s another way to practice magic—a way you seem pretty good at—why do you need the Council of Sistren?”
Neve’s whole body heaved with her sigh. “It’s so stupid, I know it is. I shouldn’t want their acceptance, but I do.”
She closed her eyes, as if needing to see the memory play out again.
“A few weeks ago, Auntie came home early from work. And we fought. Fought like we never had before . . . ever,” Neve said. “I love her more than anyone in the world, and I said horrible things to her—that she was trying to hold me back, that she wanted me to be as weak as her . . . She claimed all of the lies and half-truths had been to protect me, but wouldn’t say from what. She begged me not to go to the Council of Sistren. To just let it all go.”
“But you couldn’t.”
Neve shook her head and opened her eyes. “I left that day to take the admission test to their school of sorcery. I told you the truth before. They wouldn’t even let me try—they barely let me speak. What I didn’t tell you, though, was that it wasn’t just my lack of apprenticeship.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
A quiet anger flickered in her expression; it was the kind of fire that turned iron to steel. “It was because I had no known lineage. I had no documentation of my maternal line. I couldn’t even tell them my mother’s name. I can still see them at that table, laughing . . .”
My jaw was clenched so tightly, I couldn’t speak. I felt it then, as if I’d been standing there beside her. The humiliation. The desperation of being wholly alone in your story, with no way to piece together a past. The need for approval.
There was so much about Neve’s life I would never truly understand, but that . . . that I understood.
“They can rot in the infernal abyss,” I told her fiercely. “You don’t need them—you’re too good for them in every way.”
“I do need them, though,” Neve said. “It’s not just about acceptance, or even trying to master my power more fully. I think . . . Something Auntie said before I left makes me think the Council of Sistren may have my mother’s Immortality in their archive.”
And the answers about who I am inside it.
She didn’t need to say it. I had lost my past, but she had a chance. Neve could still find the answers to the questions burning in her, and she’d been willing to do anything, including venture into an Other-land, to get them.
I understood that, too.
“Maybe it’s stupid,” Neve said, sighing. “I don’t even know her name. How could I even begin to look?”
“Well, you now have a friend who is fairly skilled at finding things,” I pointed out. “I’ll even give you the friends-and-family discount.”
Neve snorted, but the sadness in her eyes only deepened as she murmured, “Wheel of Fortune reversed, Five of Wands, Three of Swords.”
It took me a moment to realize she was talking about her last tarot reading at Mystic Maven. For all Neve’s talk about not giving up, some part of her had internalized the cold reality check of the cards.
Her question echoed in me. Am I going to find what I’m looking for?
I understood it then—really understood the reason for her belief in things working out. It wasn’t because she lacked uncertainty or doubt, or that she was naïve; it was that she was strong enough to hold on to her beliefs and hopes, even in the face of loss or rejection.
“What happened to That’s just the cards’ opinion?” I asked. “Let’s not forget I have zero magical ability here. You would have gotten the exact same answer if you’d asked if you were getting a pony for your birthday.”
That, at least, got a laugh out of her. “I do love ponies.”
“I never would have guessed,” I said. “But listen, I have some contacts with sorceresses I’ve worked with in the past. I can’t promise that any of them will be willing to help, but it would only take one to search the archive for your mother’s Immortality.”
“You really think they might?” Neve asked. She leaned forward, a look of false shock on her face. “Tamsin . . . are you being hopeful?”
I pretended to shudder. “You’ll have to come with me. They’ll be a lot less likely to kill me for my insolence if you’re there too.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” she said, trying to smother her smile. “Assuming we make it back to the portal alive.”
“Assuming.” I studied the stack of books in front of her for a moment and pulled one over to me. The Healer’s Journey.
“What are you doing?” Neve asked.
“Maybe it’ll help to have a fresh set of eyes on the problem,” I said.
“I’ve already been through that stack.”
“Then I’ll go get some more,” I said. “Or just sit here and admire you for being so smart and studious.”