Page 109 of Anathema

At no sign of the older mage, I tossed back the blanket and pushed to my feet, lifting the pants from the bed and staring at the garment as it dangled from my finger.

“What is it?” Rykaia asked, watching me. “Afraid it won’t fit?”

“No … I’ve never worn trousers before.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

Her brows furrowed. “You’re telling me you’ve only ever worn dresses.” She gave me a quick onceover. “And tunics?”

“Yes. And thank you for that, your brother did not appreciate finding me in his bath, nor wearing his tunic.”

Her expression twisted to an evil grin that had me grinding my teeth. “Oh, he actually returned to his room?”

“Yes. He looked angry.”

“Angry? Or angrier than usual?”

“Angrier than usual.”

Wearing a thoughtful expression, she stroked her thumb across her bottom lip. “That could’ve been my fault, I suppose. I told him I’d seen something unusual in his bathing room.”

My spine snapped straight. “You sent him to his room?”

“You make it sound like a punishment.”

“I was naked, Rykaia!”

“Yes, which confuses me on the angrier than usual point,” she said, tapping a finger to her chin. “Are you sure about it? It’s hard to tell with that mask he constantly wears.”

“Why would you send him there, when I asked for privacy?”

“Because I’m horrible at following orders. You should know that going forward. If you tell me to do something, chances are, I’m going to fail somehow.” Sighing, she plopped down into the chair my clothes had occupied. “Now that we got that out of the way, I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around the idea that you’ve never worn trousers.”

“Where I come from, the only women who wear trousers are the ones who live on the streets.”

“Have you ever trained in your life?” It occurred to me that her question only seemed ridiculous because I’d been taught my whole life that women were weak and incapable of fighting. That only wild women, tainted by the devil, longed for skills such as hunting and fighting.

Troubled by that, I shook my head.

“Oh, gods. Torryn is going to crush you.” She rubbed her brow, and suddenly the food I’d eaten stirred in my gut.

“Wonderful. Thank you. That makes me want to hustle to get dressed for it.”

“Okay.” Hands atop her thighs, she huffed and pushed to her feet. “I’m going to teach you a very basic glyph, one every woman should know. This might help you, going in.”

Kneeling to the floor, she yanked a dagger from the wide, leather belt cinched at her waist, and carved three wiggly lines onto the gravelly floor that appeared as white scratches in the packed dirt. “Aeryz.” Holstering the dagger, she pushed to her feet and held out her palm at me, as if she were halting my approach. After breathing in through her nose, she closed her eyes and let out an easy exhale.

What sounded like wind being sucked into something had me glancing around—before a force plowed into me, like getting kicked in the chest by a horse, and knocked me backward onto the mattress.

Objects floated before my eyes, as I lay coughing, my chest throbbing for a sip of air, and I sat up, frowning back at her as I took in one long inhale. “A warning would’ve been nice,” I grumbled.

Unfazed by my irritation, she said, “Now, you try. Close your eyes and imagine the glyph. Then hold out your palm and push it into the universe.”

Curiosity urged me out of the bed, and I jumped to my feet. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, imagining the squiggly lines. As I’d seen her do, I held out my palm.

A faint gust of wind tickled the ends of her hair, but failed to move her.

---