Page 61 of Skysong

A giggle, melodious, delighted. ‘Not coo-coo–cocoa.’

‘Ahh, I see.Cocoa.’ Girard made a show of plucking the mug from her hands, sniffing its contents. ‘But it smells too delicious! It must be a trick. I shall have to try some to learn more.’

He lifted the mug to his lips. Still laughing, Amie squirmed out of her seat in an attempt to snatch it back, and Andala saw her properly for the second time.

It was like looking at a miniature version of herself. She had thought she’d overestimated the resemblance when she’d caught the first glimpse; Amie had been half in the dark, and Andala had been in shock. But there was no denying it here in the kitchen’s warm light. Those were her219dark eyes, wide-set and stark. Even the shape of the mouth was similar, and the little half-moons beneath the eyes – Andala had thought she’d developed those as she’d grown older and wearier, but now she had no doubt that she’d had them since she was a child, just like Amie.

Amie.

As if Andala had said her name out loud, the girl stopped playing games with Girard, and looked directly at her. She seemed as fascinated by Andala as Andala was by her. Could she see the resemblance, too? Would it mean anything to her young mind?

Time seemed to stretch out. Andala became suddenly aware again of what it meant that they were here in the same room.

She’srightthere, a voice murmured, far in the back of her head.Youcould do it now. Nothing’s stopping you. You could pass it on.

Andala took a step forward.

It will be easy. Instinctive. Like pulling a knife from a wound. Like opening your palm and letting a butterfly go free.

She could feel it already: the power – the pain – bubbling up inside her, begging to be released. Icy and sharp, it flowed out from her heart, beneath her skin, all the way to her fingertips. She knew, somehow, that all it would take was one touch.

Another step. The girl was so close now.

Notthe girl.Yourdaughter.

That voice was different. It sounded more like her own.

Andala ignored it. The feeling of her power welling up within her was overwhelming. This was different to how it felt when she transformed. Less painful. Easier. It would be so easy.

Andala stopped. How quickly had she crossed the room? Had she been staring at the girl for years, or only seconds?

Notthe girl,the voice repeated.Yourdaughter.Youarehermother.Donotbecomelikeyourown.220

‘Andala.’

She was suddenly aware of a grip on her arm, somebody shaking her. The power flowing through her limbs receded in an instant. There was a brief, icy clasp around her heart – then it was gone again, dormant like it had been for days now, and Andala was herself once more, woken from her trance like a sleepwalker.

Finally, she tore her eyes away from Amie.

Leilyn stood at her side. Her fingers were tight around Andala’s arm. Andala caught the look on her face, there and then gone: a look of recognition, and regret. But then, she might have imagined it, because Leilyn’s expression was as calm and cool as ever.

‘Girard,’ she said, her eyes still on Andala, ‘why don’t you take Amie upstairs?’

Andala broke away to watch as Girard ushered Amie from the room. She was half-hidden in front of him, clutching one of his hands. But she turned back, briefly, to look at Andala once more, and the emotion in her eyes was unmistakeable.

ShelooksasafraidofmeasIamofher.

‘Do you know?’ came Leilyn’s voice, jolting Andala from her daze. ‘What has happened with the night?’

She followed her mother back to the table. ‘That’s why I came here. I thought you might be able to help.’

‘I feared something had happened to you,’ Leilyn said, sinking heavily into a chair. ‘To your power.’

Andala’s stomach clenched unpleasantly at the word, but she ignored it. ‘Not to me. To the skylark.’

Leilyn sat silent for a moment, absorbing this. ‘Is she dead?’

‘Alive,’ Andala said, her throat dry. ‘But she refuses to sing.’

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