Page 12 of The Exile's Curse

Habit and memory came to her rescue again. Madame Simsa teaching her younger self the forms for connecting with a ley line. And the first time she had actually touched the ley line after her Ascension and her birthday rites.

Feet on the earth.That was how it began.

She bent and untied the laces of her half boots. The stone floor was cold through her silk stockings, but the sensation grounded her, stilling her mind. Madame Simsa watched silently. Chloe took silence as approval and continued.

Spine held straight. Breathe deeply. Concentrate. A breath in to fill her lungs. A breath out for longer still. Repeat as many times as it took to feel a sense of calm. Of control.

Then she reached for the spark inside her that she thought of as her power and sent it seeking down to find the ley line.

It felt as though she had plunged after it. She knew she still stood in the room, but she was also plummeting headlong toward a deep dark sea. As though she'd thrown herself from a cliff, arcing through the sky to whatever fate awaited her in dangerous waters below.

As she fell, the song filled her head. Soft at first, then louder and louder until it was all she heard. And the light rushed with the sound. She'd always seen the ley line as a drift of pinpoint lights. Like stars scattered across a country sky, blazing and brilliant, a thousand glimmering points. But this was more like the flare of the sun, dazzling and overwhelming. The power rushed over her and through her, and oh, Goddess, it felt good. The sheer luxury of letting herself fairly bathe in power. Unthinking, she threw her arms wide, and there was a sudden series of small explosions as the earth lamps all cracked and blew apart.

"Chloe!" Madame Simsa said, reaching for her arm. "Enough!"

She came back to herself with a jolt, cutting off the flow of power, breathing hard.

"It seems we can cross off connecting with your power as a potential problem," Madame Simsa said, her eyes wide as she looked at the shards scattered around the edges of the room. Chloe imagined she must be a little wide-eyed herself. "But we may have to work a little more on control."

Chloe stared down at her, heart pounding, skin tingling. She wanted to laugh or spin around or run. Anything to use the rush of power. She'd never felt anything quite like it, not even when she'd first connected to a ley line. She knew it could happen, of course, that some people got almost intoxicated from the contact with so much magic. And, in truth, that was the closest thing she could compare this to. The giddiness of having drunk too much campenois. Or of falling in love, perhaps. The feeling of being able to do anything and goddess damn the consequences.

Rumor had it that it was that exact thing that had led to Queen Sophia—or Lady Sophie, as she had been back then—and Cameron's hasty and unexpected wedding. Some mishap on the morning of her twenty-first birthday, when they'd been away from the palace after it had been attacked.

But she was no new-to-magic fledging witch. She shouldn't be so easily affected.

Though perhaps, after ten years, she might as well be a new witch.

"Chloe?" Madame Simsa said, patting her hand softly. "Are you all right, child?"

"Yes, Madame," she replied. She pulled her wits together with an effort of will, turning her mind away from the enticing song of magic and back to reality. And the mess she had just made. "I'm sorry, that was careless of me. I will fetch a broom."

"I imagine someone will be along with one soon enough," Madame Simsa said, the side of her mouth lifting in a familiar half grin. "You made quite a noise just now." Her tone was a mix of satisfaction and amusement and...pride, perhaps. She wiped at her cheek, where there was a tiny bead of blood.

Goddess, did one of the shards from the lamps hit her?

"Your cheek," she said.

"Pffft. It is nothing. I've had worse scratches from Riki's whiskers. I am old, but I am not fragile. Unlike these lamps, it seems." She surveyed the room, looking amused.

"The lamps...," Chloe said. The practice rooms were built to withstand precisely this kind of accident. Students who destroyed property through poorly controlled magic were not blamed—unless they had been deliberately breaking a rule when they lost control—but they were expected to clean up and help put any damage to rights.

"We have plenty of lamps. Why do you think we use earth lamps in these rooms? Easier to replace those than anything else. And less messy than oil lamps. Exploding oil lamps is more excitement than anybody needs. Let alone those newfangled gas fabrique ones." Madame Simsa waved dismissively at the mess on the floor. "I think we should turn our attention to control rather than cleanup. I recommend some of the beginner exercises. Breathing. Small magics. Light a candle or two. Make a soothing tea. Coax an ailing plant. You know the kind of thing."

"Earth magic," Chloe said. "I can do that. Though I don't need to practice teas. I did plenty of that in Anglion. I owned a store where I sold magical supplies and herbal remedies."

Madame Simsa's silver eyebrows lifted. "An interesting profession for one trying to avoid attention."

"I had the knowledge of plants. Well, the ones that are common both there and here. I didn't need to use my magic. I was an assistant at first, and the temple used to check on me. But they lost interest when I didn't break any rules."

"That must have been a challenge. You and Imogene were never particularly good at staying between the lines. Though she has learned to be more so now that she has to be a duquesse. And I guess you have, too." Madame Simsa peered up at her. "All right, no teas. But earth magic. Small things. I think we should leave the water magic until you have regained some finesse." She smiled. "Come to think of it, the last student I had in here who made a complete mess was Sophie. Broke a scrying bowl clean into pieces the first time she attempted to see. Ink everywhere. You should be thankful that earth lamps are less messy to clean up."

"Yes. Stone doesn't stain." She ignored the stinging on her hand where one of the shards must have grazed her. "I could try and close that scratch for you." She half expected the older woman to refuse. Offered a treatment by any healer who had just exhibited such a loss of control, she would definitely decline. "I know a lot about healing. Ginevra, the woman who took me on, the one who owned my store before me, she was an earth witch." There was no other choice for Anglion women. They weren't taught blood magic or the Arts of Air. In fact, they were taught that they couldn't have talent for that kind of magic. Outside the royal family and the nobility, most women only received minimal training, and most of them had what, by Illvyan standards, were small powers. "She never let me use my magic, but she did teach me a lot about what she did. And I helped her when people came to see her with small hurts."

"You don't need to convince me," Madame Simsa said. "I taught you earth magic in the first place. I know your power and your skill." She smiled with a flash of surprisingly white teeth. "And now that I know what to expect, I can control you well enough if need be."

She lifted her chin, presenting the scratched cheek to Chloe. "Go on, then. Show me that you can still manage some precision."

Chloe sucked in a breath. She'd done it now. No backing down. Perhaps that was what Madame Simsa had intended.

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