“That’s a pity,” sighed Aurelia. “But I suppose if it was any other way, he’d never give me the key.” She bit her lip in thought. “Perhaps I want to learn what the key is so that I can make surenotto do whatever action will unlock his magic.”
“That may be best,” Mama Gail agreed. “Unfortunately, I think he’d still be able to extract it. But it wouldn’t be as powerful.”
“That makes no sense to me,” said Aurelia, frustrated.
“I don’t understand it either,” Mama Gail said helplessly. “Because I don’t really understand the theory behind it. But that’s what his notes said. He’s been researching ways to increase the potency of magic, according to ‘the foundational principles of power’, whatever they are. Apparently one principle is that power willingly given is stronger than power coerced or forcibly taken.”
“So he thinks if he just forcefully extracts the magic from my hair, it will lose some of its potency compared to if I willingly unlock it through the use of this key action,” Aurelia said.
Mama Gail nodded. “That’s the best I can ascertain from his notes. But he’d made a note underneath, that if giving you the key didn’t work, he could still extract the magic as planned, with less potency.”
“Risk versus reward,” Aurelia muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She sighed. “And what was the other thing you found? The one that’s making you so nervous?”
Mama Gail chewed on her lip, looking at her daughter with troubled eyes.
“Was it another of these foundational principles of power?” Aurelia guessed. “Another way for him to increase the magic’s potency?”
Slowly, her eyes locked on Aurelia’s, Mama Gail nodded.
“And are you going to tell me what it was?” Aurelia pressed, when the silence stretched out.
Mama Gail let out a long breath. “Not yet. Not if I don’t need to.”
“Mama Gail, that’s infuriating,” Aurelia complained.
Her mother winced. “I know it is,” she acknowledged. “But I’m not trying to infuriate you. Can’t you trust me on this?”
Aurelia clenched and unclenched her hand over the fabric of her skirt, trying to still her agitation. “Honestly, I don’t know,” she said flatly. “I trust your intentions, but I still think you should tell me everything you read. I think I’ll be better able to fight back against Cyfrin if I know what I’m up against.”
“Well,” said Mama Gail, her voice gruff, “I can understand that perspective. I’ll…I’ll give it some thought. But in the meantime, our safest route is to prevent Cyfrin from getting you on your own again.”
Aurelia didn’t answer. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so out of charity with her mother, and any guilt over her failure to confide in her about Amell’s visit had fled. If Mama Gail didn’t trust her, she thought petulantly, she wasn’t going to share her secrets until the last minute either.
The afternoon passed uncomfortably, neither woman speaking much. Their daily chores took much less time than they had, and Aurelia spent the hours before sunset curled up on a settle, pretending to read over her notes from the physician’s guide, while in reality wrestling with the day’s events.
When the hated voice called up to her from the clearing below, Aurelia almost welcomed it. She was ready for the day to be over, and it couldn’t end until Cyfrin’s visit was done.
“Honeysuckle, throw me my rope.”
Grumbling, Aurelia tugged her hair free and looped it through the metal hook. As she felt Cyfrin’s weight leave the ground, it was impossible not to compare the experience with another visitor she’d helped ascend that day. This time there was no asking permission, no hint of caring what she wanted, and no gentleness in the way Cyfrin pulled himself up, hand over hand, as if her hair really was nothing more than an inanimate rope.
When he appeared in the window, she found herself examining his form with disfavor as well. Did he always wear such a sour expression, or only in the tower? It was really very unflattering to his features. And why did he cut his hair so close and tight? It gave him such a plain appearance compared to Amell’s general exuberance.
It was unfortunate for him, she thought dispassionately, that he was not only lacking in both personality and character, but in appearance as well. Not that she’d ever particularly considered him ugly before, of course. But that had been before she’d set eyes on someone so undeniably handsome.
“Well,” Cyfrin said, depositing the usual meager parcel of supplies on a table. “Good evening.”
“Good evening,” Aurelia said flatly.
He raised an eyebrow at her tone, but didn’t comment. “Shall we begin, child?”
Aurelia stepped forward, flicking her hair behind her in a defiant gesture that she knew meant little. But it made her feel better. A moment later she felt one of his hands tangle in her hair. Suddenly, his other hand was planted on her midriff, and she let out an involuntary gasp.
“What are you doing?” Mama Gail asked sharply, appearing instantly at Aurelia’s side. “Get your hand off her.”