Chapter 31 - Certainty

Cosmo found me when he was done talking to Ellis, but I didn’t get a chance to ask him anything. First, because I would’ve found it difficult to explain how I knew enough to ask him about the warning, and second, because being an important witch makes you automatically popular at a witch’s party. Go figure.

Everyone wanted a chance to talk to Cosmo.

Considering how gracefully he was handling it, I wasn’t sure I was doing much good as a protector. Then I caught him looking at me right after I’d asked what I’m sure was a stupid question to a witch who fairly jumped to explain how I didn’t understand a thing. The gratitude poured from his eyes. We could both stand there and listen to the woman educate me. The torrman wouldn’t have to say a thing.

Ignorance, it turns out, can be almost as useful as knowledge.

An hour later, in the first free moment he’d had since returning to the room, Cosmo said to me under his breath, “Do you think I can escape now?”

“Run for the door!” I whispered back. “I’ll cover you.”

He gave me a look. “That wouldn’t be polite. I have to at least say goodnight to my host.”

I listened for laughter. That was usually a reliable sign that Rall Axton was nearby. No luck.

“I don’t know if Rall’s in the room,” I said.

“Then I’ll say goodbye to Ellis.”

She was standing only a few groups away, talking in an easy, comfortable fashion, completely at home with the attention.

When Cosmo touched her elbow, she excused herself and walked closer to the door with us. Once we were away from everyone else, Cosmo explained that he was leaving.

“So soon?” she asked.

“I have to drive back to my motel and get some sleep. I need to be back in the city tomorrow morning. Thank you again for having me. You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you for coming, Master Uhler.”

I marveled at how casual her manner was. If I hadn’t personally been eavesdropping on it, I never would’ve believed those two had been arguing.

Cosmo might have been thinking along the same lines. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped and nudged his glasses.

“Good luck, Mistress Oliversen,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

The torrman turned. “Thank you for keeping me company, Emerra. Say hello whenever you see me.”

I grinned. “That’s a promise, Cosmo.”

Any man who compliments me when I’m wearing a twirly dress is automatically a friend for life.

He nodded to us one last time, then left. We watched as he passed through the crowd and disappeared out into the hall, leaving behind a room full of color, subtle movements, and the quiet babble of a dozen voices.

“Who are you, Emerra Cole?” Ellis said.

I turned to her. She was still gazing at the doorway, but when she felt my eyes on her, she looked at me.

“Who are you, really?” she said in the same quiet, level voice.

I had to swallow before I could answer. “Nobody.”

“You’re not a witch, but you call one torrman by his first name, while another recognizes you from yards away and runs to greet you.”

“It’s the hair. It’s easy to spot. Especially if it’s sunny.”

Her face didn’t so much as twitch.

“You know?” I prompted. “From the glare?”

Still no reaction.

Whew, I thought. Tough crowd.

“Nylah told me that you claim you have no power.” Ellis tilted her head, but her eyes never left my face. “I don’t see it. There’s something about you. Maybe it isn’t power, but you’re not nobody.”

I turned away before she could notice my eyes. “There are a lot of unimportant people in the world, Mrs. Oliversen. Sometimes we make our way into important lives.”

At last, she reacted: her gorgeous lips pulled back in a sly smile. “What an interesting way to put that.”

She took a breath and let her eyes drift over the room. The moment they were off me, I felt relieved.

She went on, “Of course, some people would argue that there’s no such thing as an unimportant life. What do you think?”

Forget there being something about me—there was something about her. The sound of her voice was mesmerizing. It rolled from word to word without hurrying.

“I think that’s playing with jargon,” I said. “Are all lives important?” I shrugged. “But I know that some lives make a bigger difference to the world than others.”

She was watching me again. In self-defense, I turned the conversation on her.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I think you’re very perceptive.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

So much for that deflection.

I was about to pull out a shield, when Ellis turned her head. Her gaze floated over the crowd until it fixed on something.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

I followed her line of sight. Ellis was watching her youngest daughter.

Olivia was standing in a small group with Ashworth and two witches I didn’t know. Even beside Ashworth, she glowed. Her smile, her laugh, and her motions were all natural and unaffected. If Ellis had the grace of the perfectly posed, Olivia had the grace of the poseless.

A drop of envy splashed into my heart like a drop of lemon juice in water. Enough to add flavor, but not enough to make it sour.

What a butthead.

“She is,” I admitted.

“Why do you think Mr. Ashworth is so interested in her?”

I glanced up at Ellis. She was still watching her daughter, but I remembered the calculating look that lived right behind her eyeballs, and decided, on this matter, I didn’t need to play dumb.

“He recently found out she’s Big Jacky’s apprentice. I think he’s curious about that.”

“Aren’t we all,” Mistress Oliversen muttered. A second later, she added, “It would’ve been a smart match.”

My brain had to do a few laps before it caught up to what she was saying.

“You mean Ashworth and Olivia?” I struggled to keep the incredulity out of my voice.

Ashworth wasn’t someone you dated. Ashworth was someone you put behind glass so you could look at him. And it had to be really thick glass so he couldn’t get to you.

There had to be some kind of line you crossed; if you were this beautiful, or this powerful—or, even better, both—then you could evaluate Owen Ashworth as dating material. I had not crossed that line. I couldn’t see that line with binoculars.

But Ellis Oliversen had left that line behind her three seconds after emerging from her awkward preteen years.

“He’s a powerful magician,” she said, “and quite accomplished. There is, of course, the problem of Olivia still being a minor—”

I smiled when I heard the fierce note in Ellis Oliversen’s voice. Whatever else she was, she was still Olivia’s mother.

“—but Rall will step in if he thinks Mr. Ashworth is giving her too much attention. He’s nothing if not protective of his daughters.” She leaned toward me and lowered her voice. “Which is rather adorable, all things considered.”

I felt my heart grow lighter. I was getting my first glimpse of the Ellis Oliversen that Rall Axton had fallen in love with.

“Magic marries magic?” I asked.

“Usually.”

“You don’t—” I hesitated. “You don’t arrange it, do you?”

“We don’t go that far. But there’s a lot of competition to find a suitable partner.” Ellis frowned, and her voice dropped into a mutter. “At least Olivia won’t have to deal with that.”

The frown had vanished almost as soon as it had appeared, leaving her face soft and motionless. The only points of tension in her body were in her shoulders. She was holding them up.

“How do you mean?” I said.

When Ellis glanced at me, her eyes narrowed. I don’t know what she was suspicious about, but she relaxed when she saw my expression.

“Because of Olivia’s…condition…most of the males from the powerful lines won’t consider her as a wife. In some ways, it’s a shame. But it gives her a lot of freedom.”

“Is it really that big of a deal? I mean, she’s still powerful, right?”

“If things had been other than the way they are, Olivia would’ve been one of the most powerful witches in the world. She would’ve been the pride of the Oliversen and the Axton lines.” Ellis looked at the floor, and the muscles in her jaw tightened. “But that didn’t happen.”

As I watched Ellis, a strange sense of certainty stole into my body. From every distant point it gathered, pooling in my chest until I could feel the weight of it. I was used to the ongoing chatter of my mind—I was not used to carrying around unarticulated thoughts in my ribs.

I found myself saying, “No, I don’t get it. How is she not powerful?”

Mrs. Oliversen let out a short sigh. It sounded like I’d finally managed to irritate her. It took longer than I thought it would.

“Miss Cole, can you imagine how much more Olivia could’ve accomplished if she’d had even a speck of talent?”

“Can you imagine how much more Olivia could’ve accomplished if she’d been allowed to use aids? I can. I’ve watched her work.”

That was an exaggeration. I couldn’t do a comparison, even by imagination, because Olivia was one of the few magicians I’d seen at work. But, hey! It looked impressive to me, and I wasn’t about to let a pesky thing like logic ruin my argument.

“Aids?” Mrs. Oliversen said.

“Runes. Paper guides. Tools.”

“Ah.” Ellis’s smile twisted up on one side. “You’re not familiar with our culture, are you, Miss Cole?”

I said, “Nope.”

I deliberately did not say that, at the moment, I didn’t see that as much of a downside.

“Witches don’t use those kinds of tools.”

“Olivia does.”

“Olivia’s probably become reliant on them.”

“A moment ago, you were saying that Owen Ashworth was powerful and accomplished. He’s a sorcerer. Does he use them?”

“He has to. A witch shouldn’t have to.”

“Olivia doesn’t have to either. How many years did she spend at that school proving that she was powerful enough to kick everyone’s butt blindfolded?”

“Miss Cole, I appreciate that’s your perspective, but you’re not a witch, and you wouldn’t understand.”

There was no passion or anger in my voice, but my next words came from the certainty in my chest, and they carried all the weight of it.

“The world is made up of more than just witches, Mistress Oliversen, and I think that if you were less obsessed about who your daughter could’ve been, you might have appreciated the daughter you had.”

I had gone too far. I could see that the moment the words left my mouth. Ellis’s face flushed, her hands trembled, and her jaw was clenched shut. As I watched the suppressed rage twitching around her features, I thought about Rall Axton’s no-holds-barred fight, and wondered if there would be enough left of me to fill even part of a teaspoon.

“What’s going on?” a voice to our side said.

Ellis and I looked over. It was Olivia. Neither of us had noticed her approach. Her eyes were moving between us. Her body was tense, and her expression was nervous.

Ellis took a breath and swallowed. When she spoke, her eyes moved restlessly, looking anywhere other than at me or her daughter.

“You have a good friend, Olivia. She’s almost as tactful as you are. Excuse me.”

Ellis left the room, sweeping past Rall as he came back in and ignoring him when he called her name.

Olivia rounded on me. “What did you say to her?”

My brush with death had left me a humbler woman. I resumed breathing and let the tremor of my nerves work their way out of my body. Then I licked my lips and tried to think of how to answer.

“Would you believe me if I told you it wasn’t important?” I ventured.

“Were you talking about me?”

“Uhhhh…maybe a little bit.”

“What did you say?”

“Look, I’ve already got one witch mad at me—”

“You’ve got two. Answer my question.”

“I told her that I didn’t understand why you weren’t considered powerful just because you can’t sense magic!”

I bit down hard on my lips immediately after I’d said it, but it was too late.

“Then you know.”

Olivia’s voice was quiet. I kept my eyes away from her face. I didn’t know what I’d see if I looked at her, and I didn’t think she’d want me to see it.

She chuckled.

My head jerked up. It was Olivia—I wasn’t imagining things. One arm was across her chest, bracing up her other elbow. Her raised fingers were resting on her temple, and she was shaking her head.

“Yeah. That would make her mad,” Olivia muttered. “I didn’t think it would make her that mad.”

I was so bewildered, I had no idea what to say.

Olivia looked at me. “You sure know how to pick your enemies, Emerra.”

Oh. Wow. Now I knew what to say.

“That coming from you?”

She let her hands drop to her sides. “Emerra, witches can only ever see one way of doing things. If you can’t do it that way, then you’re not powerful. I can’t be like them, so as far as they’re concerned, I’m a lost cause.”

I felt a feather-touch of melancholy respect when I heard how matter-of-fact she sounded. I knew how long you had to carry a burden before you forgot it was a burden.

She added, “But it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

“When you learn not to care what others think, you find all the freedom you need to get things done. I’d rather have my freedom than what the witches consider power.”