Page 65 of What Is Dark Within Me

I can come into the lowlands next week when the figs start to ripen. When you see the first one has fallen from its branch, meet me in the clearing where you scared the deer away. The cave is a quarter mile west of there.

—L

* * *

The followingdays were challenging and Aleja had to almost crawl back to her bedchamber after every training session. Though she got up early to visit her grandmother in the mornings, she missed lunch often. Bonnie snuck baskets of food into Aleja’s room; the chunks of warm buttered bread and cheese wrapped in wax paper kept her going every time she forced herself to roll out of bed on shaking legs.

It took Taddeas hours before he could talk to her without looking like he was hoping the field would turn to quicksand and swallow him, even though the crown of her head barely made it to his shoulder.

“Sorry, we couldn’t start earlier. I was looking into something for Nicolas,” he said.

“Let me guess,” she grumbled. “Dark Saint business.”

“Exactly,” he replied, the moment of eye contact broken. “There’s been unusual activity near the edges of the Hiding Place. He sent me to investigate.”

The candidness of his answer surprised her. It wasn’t as if Nicolas or Bonnie deflected her every question, but both had met her before… everything. Aleja wasn’t a fool. She knew her ignorance affected how they treated her, even when they tried to be forthcoming.

“Did you find anything?” she asked.

“A few traces of recent magic. It’s possible the Astraelis were testing our wards.”

Aleja’s breath caught in her throat as the woman behind the locked door in her mind snapped to attention. This isn’t your conflict, she reminded herself. This isn’t your war. Not anymore.

Are you sure you won’t be making it your problem? asked the voice.

“Don’t worry,” Taddeas said, perhaps catching the way her eyes widened. “Even in peacetime, it’s not unusual for one side to have spies among the other. Besides, the magic was… how do I put this? The traces had mostly dissipated by the time I got there, but if I had to guess, it was what you would think of as dark magic. The Silent Art.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“It’s whatwewield, Aleja.”

It reminded her of Bonnie’s words.The demons are on our side.

"I can’t believe you’re Greed,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. "No offense.”

“None taken. We in the Hiding Place have a different understanding of the concept than you might. Come on, Al. Hands up. Let’s see what you can do.”

This magic was unlike any she had ever wielded, unlike anything her family had ever done, even when they were under the influence of the Knowing One’s bargain. For one, the magic seemed to have moods, as if it was a part of her both connected and separate—an inner monologue that sometimes disagreed with how she tried to command it.

Wow, that sounds familiar, the voice rumbled, displeased.

After a few hours on her first day, Aleja realized she could now draw up a flaming sphere with ease without her sickle in hand. On the second day, she learned tomanipulateit. This was trickier than producing the small magical bombs, as she thought of them, that killed the doctor in his study.

It felt like trying to stand on one foot as waves of an incoming tide crashed against her leg. Yet every time she got stuck, it only took a few words from Taddeas to make her understand what she’d done wrong.

Exactly as if she’d done this before, and only needed reminding.

“I’m going to stand a few yards down the field. Try to channel your energy toward me,” Taddeas said at the end of their third lesson. His voice was steady, a far cry from the way he usually muttered every word.

“Wait! Won’t it hurt you?”

The field already looked like the victim of a meteor shower, dotted with holes and burn marks. The insects had gotten wise and fled to the trees. Their drone was robotic, a steady accompaniment to the hum and crackle of Aleja’s fire.

She’d believed Taddeas could deflect her attacks, but to see it in real life was another thing altogether. He used his axes as a sort of magical siphon; they cackled with energy as red as hers. The color seemed to be a theme in the Hiding Place.

“Good!” he shouted on day four, when she managed to not only send her fiery missile the full length of the field but aim it as well. It hit one of the oak trees, damp enough from a late morning rain to resist catching fire. Steam rose from the trunk as the magic fizzled out, looking like a ghost that’d wandered out from the forest to see who was disturbing its rest.

The adrenaline of it was enough to make Aleja take the steps to her room two at a time. The paintings watched with such intensity, she imagined the figures leaning forward to get another glimpse of her as she passed.

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