Of Caverns and Casters ✓ [TLRQ #1]

Chapter 43 - Aster

Sunlight shines over the treetops and through my window as I struggle to make myself presentable enough to go downstairs. Yesterday, I wanted to attempt to go, but Leavi insisted I rest more first. I still feel weak, but the importance of escaping Amarris outweighs that of my own comfort. If I could even just get to the next town, it would be better than staying here. Besides, the longer I stay, the worse the weather will be; we grow unnervingly nearer to winter each day. The snow from the night of my escape hasn't melted and will only collect more.

I make my way to the kitchen island and take a place beside Leavi. She and Sean eat the muffins Marcí set out, the persistent beat of his fingers on a strange contraption filling the silence.

I don't know how to get them to agree to let me cast the anti-scrying spell on them. Yesterday, I tried to explain why it's necessary, but they just gave me strange looks. They don't seem to think magic is real.

I refuse to let Amarris find me again. Her illusionist may not be able to scry me—some wizards can only cast spells in one discipline—but I can't bet our lives on it. Amarris will kill me, she'll kill them, and then she'll wreak whatever havoc she likes on Morineaux. My country won't have any warning.

I steal another glance at the both of them. Leavi catches my gaze and smiles. A thin smile in return slips onto my face.

I could cast under the table.

It would be harder, but I think I could make it work. Whether they want it or not, they need this spell on them.

I cast.

* * *

"Vîc å rêarre. De viêt, de vaö, de vis."

The setting sunlight bounces off the fallen snow and streams through the living room window. As I speak, entranced by the spell, I slip my casting knife, a blade no bigger than my finger, across my thumb. Then, reaching in front of me, I slide the digit over the bottom of my overturned blackwood bowl.

The soft and terrifyingly irresistible pull of the magic suddenly releases, and I relax back into my chair. I look up at the young girl in front of me and smile, wiping away the dot of blood from my nose. Her eyes are wide.

"Why was your nose bleeding? Are you sick?"

I chuckle. "No, I was just casting. Besides, it was not so bad. There was not much blood." There wouldn't have been any if I weren't already tired. Casting shouldn't hinder my recovery too much, though, and I won't return to my country without having practiced to the best of my ability.

Zena still looks doubtful, but before she can say anything, I direct her attention back to the bowl. With a flourish, I pull it up, revealing the now Morineause-blue cube beneath. She gasps in pleasure. It used to be red.

"Dad! Look!" She hops up, tugging on his sleeve. "Mister Aster really does do magic!" Markus casts an evaluating eye on me.

I laugh at her antics. "I suppose you don't see a lot of it around here?"