Page 62 of A Winding Wave of Magic
My hands were still shaking when I looked up. I wasn’t normally the type to fall to pieces, but Gran’s words, so normally brusque and sharp in life, undid me completely. Flickers of her face, frowning in concentration as she wrote, appeared in my mind’s eye until I set the paper back on the table. I took exactly three deep breaths, then looked up. Jonathan was watching me, his brow furrowed with distinct concern.
“Shall I?” He glanced at the candle in the middle of the table, then back at the letter. His meaning was clear.
“You’ve read it?”
He looked mildly affronted. “No, of course not. It was sealed so that only you could open it, and I would never invade Penny’s privacy that way.”
“But do you know what it says?”
He traced small circles into the linen tablecloth with his fingertip. “I know some basics. That Penny was keeping secrets for the Council, but also from the Council. I know that someone wanted to discover that Secret and that…he is likely responsible for her death. And I also know she wanted you to destroy it after reading.”
“He?” I interrupted sharply, thinking of the chattering voice at home. “How do you know it’s a he?”
Jonathan’s eyes flashed. “I just do.” His jaw was pulled tight like a bowstring. It was clear he wouldn’t be giving up that information. For now. “I also know that she intended to pass her legacy on to you. And that she entrusted me with facilitating that passage.”
We looked at each other for a long time. He picked up the letter and touched the corner to the candle’s flame, then murmured something that kept the flame low and unobtrusive until it licked the edges of his fingers. He let go of the remainingpiece, and the ashes of the letter disintegrated into glittering dust, then into nothing at all.
“Why you?” I asked.
Jonathan took another bite of salmon, chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “The easiest way to put that would be to say that people’s secrets make themselves known to me…often whether I want them to or not. And I’m very good at keeping them.”
I frowned. “What, like a seer? I thought you were a sorcerer.”
“I am. It’s different. I have certain talents that are hard to explain.”
“Try.”
Jonathan looked like he was trying not to scowl. “Listen. Penny knew me for a very long time and trusted me with her secret, or at least the pieces of it that I learned. I don’t know what it is exactly or where she kept it, or if it was an object at all. And I’m not expecting you to tell me what you shouldn’t.”
The box, I thought, remembering the package still at the back of my closet with a shudder. The terrifying black void when I’d touched it. The fact that I still had no clue what was inside.
“Beyond that, you’ll have to trust me when I say you’ll learn more depending on whether or not you take Penny’s advice and accept this inheritance.”
My future seemed to crumble with every word between us even as I spoke. Settling Penny’s death had suddenly bloomed from so much more than a will and selling her house. She wanted me to go to Ireland. Take a position on some sort of council.
“And if I do accept it?” My voice was thick. “What happens then?”
“I expect you’ll go through some sort of training in Ireland with the Connollys, after which you’ll present yourself to the Council as an heir presumptive. They’ll want to test you. Make sure you’re up to the task. Caitlin will be the one to train you,I would guess. Robbie is the one with the connections to the Council, though, and he will likely be the one to sponsor your ascent.”
The position at Tillamook College. A little house in the woods. My dream of a quiet, solitary existence. All of it seemed to evaporate in front of me .
“I’m confused. I thought these positions were hereditary.” My pasta was growing cold on my plate. My mouth felt dry, and my appetite had vanished.
“They are nominally. But an heir must still pass a series of tests in order to fully assume the position of Council Mage.” Jonathan took another bite of salmon, chewed sympathetically, then swallowed. “I’m afraid they are even more difficult for the position of the High Council members, for which you are, technically, eligible. Most who withstand the examinations have a great deal more…experience than you have at this point. They have all reached their zenith and generally have been practicing magic at full manifestation for many years.”
“Fun. So I get to do all of this while going through magical puberty by thirty-three,” I muttered.
“Pardon?”
“What happens when I fail?” I asked.
Jonathan looked as if the idea made him ill. “Ifyou fail. Ideally, you would not. But those who do are stripped of their positions and inheritance. They return home, wherever that is, and deal with the fallout. Shame, mostly. Possibly exile. It’s not particularly pleasant when it happens.”
“It’s a bit archaic, don’t you think? Inheritance of power in an age of modern democracy?”
Jonathan pressed his mouth together in a way that made me wonder if he agreed. “The theory is that not all fae are created equal, and therefore those families with historically more, er,power or knowledge would have the ability to govern those who cannot make those decisions for themselves.”
“Cool, cool. So it’s good, old-fashioned fascism.”
