Page 127 of A Dagger in the Ivy

The magister’s eyes gleam with a knowing light as he leans forward,his voice lowered to a hushed tone. “My thoughts exactly.”

“So you think they were lying?”

He measures some of the prepared powder into a small ceramic pot. “I believe that the fae may have found a way to hide their magic away, locking it within objects or artifacts to safeguard their ancient heritage from those who sought to exploit it until they were no longer a threat.”

“I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“It’s a theory, of course. There’s nothing in the history books that expands on the subject.”

The gears in my head are working through the implications of his words, and I sit there for a while, trying to process. When the pieces start coming together, I lift my chin and gape at him. “What kind of objects do you think they used?”

“It could be anything, really. But knowing the fae, I would imagine they were objects that held some meaning to them.” He steps around the desk and hands me the pot. “There you are. I hope this one lasts longer than the last.”

“Thank you, Ezra.” I set the pot down, still contemplating telling him my theory. “So, do you think they might hide magic in a dagger?”

He leans back against his desk and crosses his arms, his eyes far-off as he begins to nod. “Yes, I suppose so. Does this theory have anything to do with the dagger your mother gave you?”

I sit up straight and look him in the eyes. “Ezra, I have to tell you something, but you have to promise not to overreact. If this information leaves this room, we could both be in a lot of trouble.”

“I am committed to serving you, Your Highness.” He inclines his head. “Of course I promise.”

I hold out my hand to him. “Do you feel anything when you touch or hold my hand?”

Ezra regards my hand before he comes nearer. He lays his hand upon it, then around it, before retracting and shaking his head. “Aside from it being a tad on the warm side, no. Nothing.” He tilts his head. “But something tells me you do.”

“It started as a tingle, right here.”

He looks closer. “Where this scar is?”

“Yes. But now the tingle has grown, and it’s a buzzing energy that’s flowing through me. It feels… It feels like it does in the dreams I have of my mother stabbing me.”

He is quiet for a moment, taking my hand and flipping it over. “How did you get this scar?”

“It’s from my dagger.”

Concern appears on his face. “Did someone stab you in the hand?”

I bite my lip. “I don’t think I can tell you the whole story. But yes. That’s when the tingling started.”

“I see.” He stands and starts pacing, blinking as he contemplates.

“Ezra, do you think my mother hid powers in this dagger?” I swallow the lump in my throat. “And if she did, do think it’s possible the power has transferred into me?”

I wait as he paces some more. He doesn’t look at me for a long while, most likely calculating the possibilities, but I can’t be sure.

At long last, he stops pacing and turns to me. “It’s not outside the realm of possibilities, but even if fae powers were hidden in there, I don’t believe a cut would be enough to draw them out. Otherwise, they could be transferred to anyone on whom you use the weapon. It’s too easy. I can’t be sure how the fae hid their magic or how they got it back, but I would imagine that it would entail combining the transfer with magic, like an incantation, a sacrifice, a ritual, or something else entirely.”

The unknown gnaws at me, twisting my thoughts into knots. Ezra is assessing from his logic, but there’s only one way to find out the truth. “The fae in Alphemra would know.”

“They are not known for sharing their secrets.” He raises a brow at me. “As I’m discovering firsthand.”

I was born in Delasurvia. My mother brought Bennett and me to Alphemra once when we were small, but I don’t have much memory of the island or my family there. We lost touch after my mother died, and I have no idea if I have their trust. I look up at Ezra, and I’m pretty sure he can see the hopelessness in my eyes.

He leans forward and rests a hand on my shoulder. “I will search mybooks and see what I can find out.”

I reach for the pot, but as soon as my hand gets near, the pot slides away, scraping softly against the wooden desk. I freeze, staring at it, my pulse quickening. What the fuck just happened? Ezra’s eyes narrow as he stares at the pot too.

“Did you see that?” I whisper, retracting my hand.

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