After a silent moment, he murmured, “Jae, look.”

She pried her eyes open, squinting against the too-bright courtyard, the strange glows of Tal and the fountain both, and saw what he was pointing at. A bed of flowers—only a few, small but glowing more brightly than even the fountain itself. She stared at them, her heart beating too fast in her chest, echoing in her ears.

Finally she managed to breathe, “I did it.”

“But it hurt you,” Tal said.

“But I did it!” She wanted to laugh despite the pain, because she had done this. She’d created it, done something impossible—and even though the Curse had punished her, she’d never felt more powerful. She opened her eyes wider, let the bright lights flood in, and it was like laying her hands on the smooth fabric of one of Lady Shirrad’s best dresses. She could feel it, pull it, rip it—it wasn’t light. It was energy. The fountain burned with it, and so did the flowers. So did Tal, and, when she looked down at her own hands, so did she. The energy, whatever it was, wherever it had come from, was hers to command. She could do anything with it, anything she could imagine, anything she wanted—

Until someone found out about it.

“Quick,” she gasped, scrambling forward even though it made her dizzy. “We have to get rid of them. If someone sees— It’s bad enough Lord Elan found the first. If he finds out…”

Tal nodded, understanding immediately: if Lord Elan or any of the Highest found out, any advantage Jae’s power gave her would belong to the Highest instead.

“We have to find a way to get rid of these,” Jae repeated. “And hide all of this until Lord Elan is gone—until all the Avowed have left Aredann.”

“But we can stop them! We have to tell— Jae, if they know you have magic, they won’t leave us for dead.”

“No,” Jae said. “I want them to go. Let them leave, and assume we’ll all die, because if I have magic…Tal, once they’re gone, I might be able to save Aredann.”

His eyes went wide as he realized, understanding dawning. He gaped a little and said, hushed, “Jae, if you have magic, if you can save Aredann…maybe you could even break the Curse.”

She stared back at him, at the flickering, twisting glow within him. Maybe she didn’t know where the magic had come from yet, but for the first time in her life, she had something of her own, something the Avowed didn’t control. Again, she felt that echo of her ancestors through the ages, a reminder of their power.

Of their rebellion.

—

Jae could barely focus all day, even when serving the Avowed’s lunch. Her mind kept escaping her, drawing her back to the small bouquet of flowers now hidden under her sleeping mat. They’d be crushed there and their petals would dry, and once the Avowed were gone, she’d be able to take them out, use the dry leaves to make the room smell better. And out in the garden, she’d be able to grow dozens more.

She worked until well after the sun set and she’d finally fulfilled all of her daily duties, so she could slip out back to the trees. She and Tal had agreed to meet, but he wasn’t there yet. She frowned a little, nervous, but it was only a few minutes later that he appeared, a gentle hand on her elbow as he mouthed hello.

“I was worried you wouldn’t be able to make it,” she said.

He waved that concern away. “Lady Shirrad is so busy trying to impress His Highest, she didn’t even notice me,” Tal said. “Maybe I should be insulted, but it’s actually a relief.”

Jae had no idea how he could even joke about that, but he smiled and gestured to the dry, dirty ground. Jae sat facing him, her back against one of the trees, and he sat with his back to the wall.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he said. “What we really, truly need is water. And if the Highest mages were able to craft the Well, you must be able to use magic to find some.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed, nodding slowly. She had no idea how she’d do it, though—but then again, she hadn’t known how to grow flowers, either. All she’d done was shut her eyes and imagine it, so she did that again now.

She could feel the energy around her, even with her eyes shut, and slowly the glowing started—even if it was just in her mind. She opened her eyes again, and sure enough, there the bright lights were, illuminating everything around her. It made it hard to tell one thing from another—the wall from the ground, Tal from the tree—and it was almost too much.

The Curse began rumbling in the back of her head. It was a soft pulse, not yet too painful. She ignored it and thought about water: cool, quenching, soothing. She remembered it damp on her toes when Lord Elan had spilled it, and the sloshing noise it made inside water skins. She could practically taste it, sweet against the heat of her breath—

Some of the lights swimming around her tugged at her, drawing her toward them. She twisted, and it was as if she could see through walls, drawn to the basement, where water jugs were kept locked up; to the kitchen, where they needed water for cooking and cleaning. Even the cistern in Lord Elan’s room.

The Curse exploded in her head, and she gasped, clutching her skull.

“Jae!”

Tal’s voice was painfully loud as she waved him back, forced herself to focus on here and now, on her body’s shape and feel and not the glow. As the lights subsided, so did the Curse—a little.

“It hurts,” she said when she looked up and found Tal hovering scant inches from her, ready to catch her if she pitched over. “The Curse is…”

“But you weren’t ordered not to do this,” he said.

“No, but we’re Closest.” They’d been cursed because of the mage-led rebellion. Of course the Highest wouldn’t want them to use magic. Of course the Curse wouldn’t allow it.

“But has anyone ever, ever said to you—have they ever said, ‘Jae, don’t use magic’?”

She was forced to answer honestly: “No.”

“Well, there you go.” But his voice softened as he added, “I don’t want this to hurt you. I just…”

“I know,” she said. “I have to do it. I have to, or Aredann is lost, and we’re all…dust. I’ll try again. Just let me breathe for a minute.”

He settled back on the ground again, and she caught her breath. The Curse was still thrumming lightly, but she thought about the truth she’d spoken. No one had ordered her not to do this. She wasn’t disobeying anyone. She wasn’t.