Page 38 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
“A hawk here,” Rose said, and gave a brief demonstration, too. Her arms stretched out and changed to feathered wings, as her legs shrank, and she transformed into a red hawk with fierce yellow eyes. She flew to a rail on an upper floor, comfortably perching there before Madame Chastain waved her down again.
“A mouse,” Hollis said, warily eyeing Rose and Julia, opting not to demonstrate.
Sashka eagerly shared her speed and leaping abilities.
“I can glamour just about anything,” Avery said.
“Glamour can be a helpful distraction, though temporary. Most fae, with a little effort, will see through it. What about elemental spells?”
Avery brushed a wilting vine from her forehead. “A few.”
The rest nodded in agreement, discussing what they knew, which to Bristol seemed considerable. But the High Witch appeared unimpressed, her lips pursing into what looked like boredom. She glanced briefly at Bristol, waiting for her to share, but when Bristol remained silent, she only shook her head and moved on.
From there, lessons became dry and to the point.
Madame Chastain dove into facts.
Bristol learned there were five kinds of magic. The High Witch listed them in beautiful scrolled writing on a smoky veil that hung in the air.
Innate magic—the kind you are born with.
Learned magic that must be practiced.
Magic that is gifted, mostly in the form of amulets.
Magic that is unanchored—wild, unpredictable, but, luckily, rare.
Dark magic that feeds on the user, the most dangerous kind to practice.
She swept away the last three in a gust of wind. “For our purposes, we’ll concentrate on the first two, developing your innate magic and teaching simple magics that will aid you and your team. In the mortal world, your experience with magic was limited, so let’s review the possibilities.”
She said many of the innate magics centered around the elements of earth, air, fire, and water. “Some fae have a natural kinship with one element or another, which is why, here in Danu, they are referred to as kinship magics. Kasta, for instance, has a kinship with water. She can summon mists, rouse rough seas, or even part rivers with little effort.” She explained about other kinships too, like those with plants and animals, and how a few rare fae were graced with multiple kinships, which made them especially powerful, and she compared them to the old gods.
Other fae’s strengths were in areas such as the spoken arts, allowing them to recite whole libraries of history from memory. And then there were the hobs, whose power lay in their unbridled enthusiasm for order and cleanliness and keeping kingdoms from falling into chaos on a daily basis. They kept the palace spotless, sometimes to the annoyance of other fae who preferred a certain degree of disorder. Still other fae had heightened senses. Elven in particular had sharper acuity than most, seeing and hearing from great distances. They perceived the smallest details that others missed.
Bristol understood now why Tyghan bristled at the notion of classifying fae like rocks.
Madame Chastain went on to discuss traits that surfaced randomly. “Shape-shifting, for instance,” she said, “is a relatively uncommon trait. Only a small fraction of the fae population has the ability. I, for instance, do not. We’re very fortunate to have three in our ranks here.” She nodded at Julia, Rose, and Hollis. “Eris chose wisely.”
But when she eyed the remaining three, her gaze remained on Bristol longer than the others and coincided with a long, slow blink. Bristol was certain the timing wasn’t an accident. “Now let’s see what abilities we can find and develop within the rest of you.”
With a few words, she called books from the upper libraries, and they swooped down to her lectern like eager birds called to a feeding dish, their pages fluttering like wings. “The Danu Grimoires,” she called them with reverent inflection, “the ancient spells, potions, and secrets the gods brought from the Mystical Isles, and the magics created by generations of practitioners since.” Her hand casually swept the air and the pages obediently turned until she commanded them to stop. With a flick of her fingers, she shooed the books off one at a time to lie before the impressed recruits.
This is why she’s called the High Witch of Danu, Bristol thought. Her magic came effortlessly. Oddly, other than when he disappeared at the inn, she hadn’t seen Tyghan do any magic at all.
Avery raised her hand. “Is this talent held only by fae?”
“Yes, of course,” Madame Chastain answered. “None of you would be here if fae blood didn’t run in your veins, and Counselor Dukinnon believes you all have a strong potential for being bloodmarked, as well. But a deeply buried talent deemed useless for centuries will take coaxing to bring it to the surface.”
A slow ripple ran beneath Bristol’s ribs that felt something like panic.
She thinks I’m fae.
Madame Chastain’s lips continued to move, but Bristol only heard a dull roar in her ears. How could the witch have made such a massive error? Tyghan knew her father was mortal, and her mother was born in a small town to a rotten family and could barely scramble an egg, much less cast a spell. It had to be Mr. Dukinnon who misled her. Maybe he was under the misguided notion that because her father grew up in Elphame, he was fae too?
Should she confess and point out their mistake? But the consequences—
We know where you live.
