Chapter 12

" H oly Mother!" The cursing has me glancing up, seeing Jayne in the reflection of the mirror staring at my back in horror.

As soon as we returned to Grayson's rooms, I retired to the bathroom to clean up, the dress I'd been wearing was filthy from scrubbing floors all day. I'd been staring at myself in the mirror, trying to work out why I felt so different. I didn't look any different than how I looked this morning, but something had changed. I seem to be doing that a lot lately, staring into mirrors and not recognising the reflection. Sighing, I'd just shook my head and attempted to undo my dress. Thankfully, Jayne had joined me shortly after and helped unbutton the back of the dress.

Dropping the fabric to the floor, I stand in only my underwear and examine the damage, which seems to be mainly focused on the right side of my stomach, although if Jayne's reaction is anything to go by, I'm assuming my back is bruised too.

"Jayne, I'm fine, I've had worse beatings than this." My voice is quiet but practical, no use wasting energy on being upset over something that's already happened. I notice her eyes being drawn to the mass of old scars on my stomach as I speak, curiosity and sadness clear in her expression. She hasn't asked me about them, and I'm not ready to tell her, not yet. Images flash through my mind—light glinting off a knife, pain, blood, maniacal laughter. Screwing my eyes shut, I push the memories away, focusing on my breathing again. I'm safe. Safe .

"I'm telling Grayson, this is disgusting. They can't treat you like this," Jayne blusters, throwing her hand in the air as she paces behind me, gesturing towards my bruised body. I don't respond, just turning so I can see my side profile in the mirror and wince when I see the black and purple bruises marring my skin, wrapping around my side and up my back. I'm lucky they didn't break any of my other bones. Grayson would have found out one way or another. "What did they have you doing?" she asks quietly, and I quickly meet her eyes in the mirror before pulling my gaze away just as swiftly.

"Just cleaning." I keep my voice light, but I know I haven't convinced her by the snorting noise she makes, and out the corner of my eye I can see her shaking her head as she watches me.

"I've left some clothing for you on the side, you should be able to dress yourself." There's a pause and I know she wants to say something. I turn to face her, watching her expression, but eventually she just shakes her head and smiles sadly. "I'll be just outside if you need me."

Finally alone, I let out the low groan I've been holding in, gripping onto the porcelain sink to help steady myself against the waves of pain that rack my body. I can hear voices outside the bathroom, they're quiet, so I can't tell what they're saying, but I recognise Grayson's deep tone. His voice raises in an exclamation and I have just a few seconds of warning before heavy footsteps stride to the bathroom and the door slams open.

Through the reflection in the mirror, I can see Grayson's face—a mixture of embarrassment, shock, and anger as he takes me in. We stand in shocked silence for a couple of seconds, my heart beating fast as I wait for his reaction. I could try to hide, to cower away or scramble for something to cover myself, but I don't, he's seen me now and I'm not ashamed of my body. Sure, I hadn't exactly planned on him seeing me in my underwear, but I won't let him or anyone else make me feel ashamed of my scars or wounds. Each one tells a story, shows that I survived.

"You said you were okay." Voice quiet, he takes a step into the room, softly shutting the door behind him as he walks to my side, examining the bruises that colour my skin. He's silent and looks calm, but the stillness in his limbs and the dark anger in his eyes tell a different story. I was scared of Grayson when I first met him, his show of power frightening, but this change in him worries me more.

"I am okay," I say again, turning to face him, but he is too busy looking at the mess of scars on my stomach. "Grayson," I call softly, placing my hand on his arm to get his attention. When he finally looks up at me, I flinch away from the cold fury in his eyes. I know I need to change the subject, to get him to stop looking at me like that, and I remember when he told me that ridiculous story about the goat.

"I'm pretty sure it's rude for magicians to burst in on ladies getting changed." My sudden change of subject seems to work as he blinks and takes a step back, a frown marring his face.

"Sorry," he murmurs, meeting my gaze for a second before dropping his back to my bruises. "I want to heal you." His deceleration is so abrupt that it takes me a couple of moments to process what he said.

"You can do that?" The words escape me before I can stop them and I bite down on my lip, worried that I might offend him. After all, he is one of the high magicians, their magic seemingly limitless, but I'm still learning what magicians can and can't do. Every magical act, even things they think of as trivial, is a wonder in my eyes.

Thankfully, Grayson doesn't seem to be offended, his eyes still glued to my skin. Shifting uneasily, I clear my throat and he finally looks up, his intense expression making me take a sharp intake of breath. Thoughtfulness, that underlying anger, and something that looks like…concern. Why would he be concerned? Does healing magic require a greater toll than other magics?

"Yes, but it involves me touching you, I have to have skin-to-skin contact for it to work."

Oh. He's worried about how I would feel about him touching me? A small frown pulls at my brow. Would I mind the magician touching me? I've generally avoided any touch for the last twelve years of my life, and since Grayson saved me, I've had more physical contact than I have during my whole time as a slave.

Or he's worried about touching a slave, worried he might catch a disease from your disgusting skin. The nagging voice of doubt plays at the back of my head, but I push it away. This isn't just any magician, it's Grayson. For whatever reason, he wants to help me. Studying his rich blue eyes, I realise I'm staring at him and quickly look away, nodding my head in agreement.

Taking a step closer, he kneels on the floor and reaches out slowly, his eyes on me the whole time, and I know if I told him to stop, he would. Gently touching my side, his hand slides over my skin and I have to bite my lip to stop a throaty moan from escaping, his touch is like a balm. Skimming around my side, his magic rolls over me before his fingers land lightly on the Goddess mark on my spine, the mark I had always thought was a birthmark. It looks very different than the mark on my wrist that I received at my blessing. With his magic rolling over me, a shockwave rocks my body as he presses against it, a gasp escaping me as energy fills my body. I feel powerful, like I could crush a human skull in my hand, and I peer down at my arms, expecting them to look different, but they don't. Twisting my hands so I can see my wrists, I note that my brands look the same, the black Xs standing out against my pale skin, but my Goddess mark from the blessing is glowing. A sharp flash of pain in my side has me wincing, but the feeling is nothing compared to the rush of healing magic surging through my body.

Grayson removes his hand and the feeling starts to fade, but my body still buzzes with the sensation of that power running through me. A rare smile blooms on my face as I turn my head to look at the magician. Except he's staring at his hand like he's afraid it might bite him.

"Grayson?" I hate how unsure my voice sounds, how needy I've become since I met him. I'm shown a little bit of kindness, and all of a sudden, I'm clinging to it, constantly needing reassurance.

At my voice his eyes flick from his hand to me, and then back again. Reaching out, he gently grabs my wrist and examines my mark, which is still glowing softly. "Mother above," he mutters so quietly I almost don't catch it.

Pulling my hand away, I wrap both arms around my middle, suddenly feeling exposed in front of him. The look of confused wonderment in his eyes is almost too much. When he looks at me like that, I feel naked, vulnerable. "What's going on?" My voice is sharp with demand, needing him to snap out of whatever trance he seems to be in.

"You're healed."

Barking out a humourless laugh, I drop my arms and turn to face the mirror again, examining my unblemished skin and pressing gently against my ribs. I shake my head with amazement when I feel no pain.

"Wasn't that the point?" Twisting my body from side to side to test the healing, I feel light and strong, better than I've felt in years. Grayson's silence meets my question and I stop twisting to turn to him, anxiety churning in my stomach. "Grayson, you're making me worry."

Pushing up to his feet, he frowns down at me, touching my shoulder gently as he spins me around, as if searching my body for an answer. "I don't know what just happened."

Is he being purposely dense? Perhaps he's joking with me. I have little experience with jokes, but I suppose this could be one. "You healed me?" I retort, my statement sounding more like a question, the corner of my mouth twitching up into an uncertain smile. Realising he's scaring me, he lets out a breath of air and scrubs his face, leaving his hair in an adorable mess.

Wait, did I just think that he's adorable? He's a high magician . No. I can't afford to think that way, not now, and certainly not about him. He's my saviour and the only thing keeping me away from the gallows.

"Yes, but I've never seen a healing like that before, and I've healed hundreds of people," he explains, and I have to bite back a sigh. Another way that I'm different and unknown, which is never a good thing. In uncertain times like these, the king doesn't want anything or anyone that he's not one hundred percent sure he can control. "It was like your body sped up the healing process." My ears prick with interest at his comment. So I may be different, but my body is healing quicker? Is that from the blessing, another gift from the Great Mother, or something about me that reacts to Grayson's magic? "For damage as extensive as yours, it should have taken about an hour of chanting, not seconds." His eyes are drawn again to the glowing mark on my wrist. It's starting to fade now, but it's still eerily noticeable.

"What are you saying?" Realising I'm still standing in just my underwear, I turn and grab the pile of soft clothing that Jayne had left for me, glancing over my shoulder at Grayson. "I have my own magic?"

"No, I'm sure you're not a magician." He doesn't sound certain, like he's trying to convince himself, and I can't deny that a part of me is disappointed. To have my own magic, to be able to protect myself and help others is a pretty thought, and one I hadn't realised how strongly I felt about until Grayson said it wasn't possible.

Turning back to face the bundle of clothing, I unfold what I thought was a dress but turns out to be a soft, pretty tunic with long, flowing trousers, all in shades of dark blue. Where did he get all these clothes from, and so quickly? Did they belong to someone else before me? That thought makes me cringe, so I push it away and slide the loose tunic over my head, marvelling at the soft fabric. I can feel Grayson's eyes on my brand and my birthmark-turned-Goddess mark, but I ignore him, bending to step into the trousers. I realise they are high waisted, with a pretty jewelled belt that ties around the tunic, synching it in. I haven't seen many of the ladies wearing clothing like this, but I have to admit it's pretty and comfortable. I'd pick it over the tight dresses any day. Soft matching silk slippers are on the floor by the sink, which I slide on before reaching for the metal bangle-like cuffs that cover my marks on my wrists. I shake my head at the irony. I've traded one set of cuffs for another, except these help me stay free. If anyone was to see my slave marks…Shaking my head, I turn to face Grayson who is still watching me with an odd look on his face.

"My magic acts differently around you."

I have no idea how to answer his statement and he seems to be saying it more to himself than to me. Now dressed appropriately, I walk past him and go to open the door as he calls my name. I stop, but don't turn, I'm tired of being looked at by him like I'm a puzzle he can't figure out, something to be fixed with secrets to be discovered. But I will hear him out, I owe him that much.

"Mage Wilson is joining us for dinner, does that suit you?"

A genuine smile crosses my lips at his question. It's small and fragile, but it's real. I haven't seen Wilson since the ball yesterday, and I'd like to see him again. Frustration forgotten, I look over my shoulder at the magician, my smile bright, and something in him changes, his whole body relaxing as he returns my smile with his own.

"Yes, I'd like that."

He opens his mouth to reply, but I hear a familiar voice on the other side of the walls and, smile still in place, I open the door, stepping out into the hallway.

"Good, because he's already here." Grayson's voice follows me, humour in his tone as I follow the corridor around until we reach the main sitting room. Wilson's sitting on the arm of one of the sofas while he blatantly flirts with a blushing Jayne. "Flirting with my maid, Wilson?"

As if the sofa had suddenly set on fire, he jumps up with the look of a startled deer, his eyes widening even more comically as he sees me with the high mage.

"Clarissa, Mage Grayson, I—we were just…" Something I've learned about Wilson is that he gestures when he talks, and he's so flustered by our appearance that he forgets he's holding a cup of tea in his hand. We watch, as if in slow motion, as the cup flies from his hand and the contents end up on the floor, splashing a large part of Jayne's skirt in the process. Making a startled noise, Jayne jumps back, her horrified eyes on her skirt and the mess now all over the floor. Wilson produces a handkerchief and hurries over to her, trying to dab at the fabric, but she bats him away.

"What is it with people spilling tea on this carpet?" Grayson's muttering has my face pinched tight as I try to hold back my laughter, but Wilson's guilty, wide-eyed expression that has him looking like a sad puppy is enough to push me over the edge as a giggle escapes me. The light, joy-filled noise makes everyone stop and look up at me, the rest of the room quiet, and I quickly stop, self-consciously lifting a hand to my hair, which I realise with shock is black.

Wilson only knows me with magicked blonde curly hair, not my straight, naturally dark locks. He only knows Lady Clarissa, and in the space of seconds I've ruined that whole charade. Panic thrums through me as I turn to Grayson, gesturing to my hair. Seeing my worry, something about Grayson changes. His body seems to grow as he takes a step closer to me and looks around for whatever threat has me panicking. I can feel his magic as he calls it to him.

"Grayson." When he doesn't react to me saying his name, I frown, realising he's not hearing me. Something else has taken over him, some protective instinct I can't get through.

"Grayson," I say again softly, placing my hand on his chest. I'm painfully aware that we're being watched by both Jayne and Wilson. My voice must break through as he looks down at his chest, seeing my hand and following it back to me. His eyes are feral, he doesn't look like the Grayson I know.

"He's gone into euisa ," Wilson whispers, his voice awed as he watches his mentor with wide eyes. "You need to talk to him, calm him down."

"He's what?" My words are shrill and Grayson growls at the panic in my voice, grabbing me with a large hand and pulling me behind him, putting himself between Wilson and me. I have no idea what this euisa is, but he seems to get more powerful by the second, his energy growing evermore.

" Euisa, " Wilson repeats, as if I should know what it means, wearily eyeing up the magician. "I forget that you don't know anything about us," he mutters quietly, before turning his attention to me. "It's the killing zone. It's a state that all magicians can go into, like a trance. It usually happens on the battlefields, all other feelings disappear, and only the urge to kill and protect remains." His explanation only makes me more anxious, which in turn makes Grayson growl again, taking a menacing step towards Wilson. I'm stuck behind a magician who's gone into some kind of killing trance, of course I'm going to be nervous, but the worse I get, the angrier he seems to get. "Something about you has set him off, you need to talk to him! Calm him down!"

Me calm him down? I barely know that man. Why would my panic about Wilson seeing my natural hair set off this "killing trance?" He was pretty wound up about my injuries from the guards, perhaps he was close to the edge anyway and all he needed was my panic to set him off.

"Any time, Clarissa!" Wilson calls out, and I realise Grayson has taken another threatening step towards the young magician.

"Grayson, stop," I shout, biting my lip as he turns with supernatural speed, like a predator hunting down his prey. His eyes lock onto me, assessing each of my movements. Mother above, help me, guide me, I pray, sending my pleas up to the Mother for her assistance. I feel my wrist tingle as he takes small, predatory steps towards me.

"He's stopped drawing power, but the amount that he's holding at the moment is enough to blow the whole wing off the castle," Wilson warns me in hushed tones, which only aggravates Grayson, the magician spinning to growl at the young mage. A tingling sensation rolls over my body and I suddenly know what to do, the presence of the Mother filling me like a reassuring hug.

"Grayson." He spins again, dropping into a crouch, his teeth drawn as his feral gaze locks onto me again. Taking small, gentle steps toward him, I drop into a crouch so I'm on the same level as him and I reach out, placing my hand on his cheek, ignoring the narrowing of his eyes. "Come back, I need you." His body seems to shudder as I speak, his eyes closing as he leans into my hand. "I'm safe, come back, I need you," I repeat, my voice soft as I try to coax him back.

Opening his eyes suddenly, I let out a sigh of relief when I see they're back to normal, and I go to take my hand away from his cheek, but his arm comes up in a flash and holds my hand there. "Just—wait. Just for a second. Please." His voice is ragged, and it pains something inside me as he closes his eyes again and sags forward into my body, resting his head against my shoulder as he keeps my hand pressed to his cheek. It's an awkward position, but I don't mind. I'm sure when I look back on this I'll analyse and question what happened, but right now, this feels right.

After what feels like an hour, but must only be minutes, Grayson sighs and releases my hand, sitting back on his heels as he runs his gaze over me.

"You're okay?" When I nod, his expression changes from one of relief to a deep frown, making his face look stern. "I could've really hurt you, what were you thinking?" Standing, he stares down at me as he fights to keep his voice even, to stop the anger I can see simmering in his eyes. I push up onto shaky legs and twist the cuffs around my wrists.

"I was worried about you. I didn't want you to kill us because of some misplaced sense of guilt." His expression makes me stop, anything I was planning to say further lost.

"What?"

Shrugging, I try to think of a way to phrase the words. "You were feeling guilty that the guards beat me even after you said I wouldn't be harmed, and it set off this…trance?" My words trail off towards the end at his incredulous expression. I obviously didn't pick the right words.

"Is that what you think? That I felt guilty?" A bitter laugh escapes him as he runs a hand through his hair. "Yes, I was furious that the guards harmed you, and I will be taking it up with the priest, but that is not what ‘set me off.'" My confusion must be evident on my face since he shakes his head, the anger draining out of him. "Is it that hard to believe that I might actually worry about you? Not just because of the vision, but because of you ?"

"Oh," is all I can think to say, his words freezing me into place. How could someone like him care for someone like me? I understood that the Mother had given him a task to look out for me, and I'd believed he was angry because he thought he was failing that.

A cough has me blinking and looking past Grayson's shoulder to see that we still have an audience. "Well, that was entertaining," Wilson remarks with a grin, winking at me as Grayson groans and turns to face his guest. Jayne watches us with a knowing look.

"Sorry, it's been a difficult day," he says to the other magician, who opens his mouth, no doubt to respond with a cheeky comment, but Jayne interrupts them with a clearing of her throat.

"Excuse me, but dinner is ready." She may be a maid, a servant to one of the high magicians at that, but her tone leaves no room for argument as she turns and leaves the room.

"Thank you, Jayne," Grayson calls after her, before gesturing for me to follow. "Let's go sit down, I'm sure you have questions." That's an understatement, but I simply nod and follow Jayne through into a room I haven't been in before. It's bright with several arching windows built into one wall, a large varnished wooden table in the centre and five carved, wooden chairs along either side with one at each end. I've seen tables like this before, when I was a serving slave in one of the houses, but I've never sat at one.

"Clarissa," Wilson calls as he gestures to a chair he's just pulled out. At first I think he's showing me how to do it, and I'm about to tell him I know how to move a chair, until I realise that he's pulled the chair out for me. To sit at. Like a lady. Like the lady I'm supposed to be playing. I can't quite muster a smile, but I nod my thanks to him as I walk over and take the seat, glancing up at him as he pushes it in behind me. He goes to sit in the chair opposite me, with Grayson on my left at the head of the table. I can feel their eyes on me, but I stare down at the table, lost in thought as Jayne starts to bring in plates of food.

Glancing up as a dish is placed in front of me, I give Jayne a thankful nod and half a smile before looking at what she brought me. I have a bowl of what appears to be broth and a small plate with some meat and a tiny amount of gravy. I'm thankful that she's given me something different, as the full plates the others have would be way too much for my little stomach. The men have meat, potatoes, and gravy with some rich-looking side dishes, and if Wilson is surprised at my meagre meal, then he doesn't comment. Reaching for my spoon, I hold it awkwardly in my hands as I watch Grayson hold his fork, trying to copy the position with my fingers. Scooping up some of the broth with the spoon, I try to pour the soup into my mouth, but just end up spilling it. Feeling eyes on me, I glance up and see they are both watching me with undisguised amusement. Wilson makes a gesture with both his hands and I frown at him for a moment until I realise what he's doing. Putting the spoon down, I lift the bowl to my lips and sip the broth, my eyes closing in pleasure at the flavours. Bread and broth are the foods they feed the slaves, but I've never tasted anything like this before, the flavours, while subtle, make me want more. Taking several deep swallows, I place the bowl down and breathe deeply, my stomach turning at the sudden onslaught. I remember what Jayne said yesterday—I need to take it easy, not rush or overeat, otherwise my stomach will just protest and make me sick. Glancing up, I see the two of them watching me as they eat their meals, the silence between us stretching.

"I'm sure you've got some questions." Grayson finally breaks the silence, repeating what he'd said earlier. Flicking my gaze between the two of them, I lean back in my chair as I try to put my thoughts into order.

"Why isn't Wilson surprised at the change of my hair colour?"

Barely looking up from his meal, Grayson reaches for a glass of what I assume is wine on the table before him. "He knows." I nearly choke on the water I'm sipping and slam my glass back down on the table.

" Everything ?"

"Most of it." I just stare at him in silence until he sighs and finally looks up at me. "After the ball last night, I realised we needed someone else on our side who knows about you."

On our side . He's said something like this before, and I don't miss the slight emphasis on those words. He only decided to tell Wilson the full story after I'd been dancing with the prince, is that what changed his mind?

"And none of this bothers you?" Incredulous, I gesture to my hair and remove the metal cuff on my left arm so he can see the ugly Xs that mark me. Wilson just shrugs, smiling at me with that carefree attitude I'm learning is normal for him.

"Personally, Clarissa, I prefer your hair like this." He gestures towards my mane, and I self-consciously reach up and twist a strand around my finger. Silence fills the space between us again, but it's comfortable and companionable rather than awkward. I sip at my broth a bit more and pick at the meat on the plate in front of me.

"I know you have more questions."

"What happened in there? Wilson said it was… ei-eui-essi —" I struggle over the unfamiliar word, it feels awkward in my mouth.

" Euisa ." The way he says it makes me shiver, the little hairs on my arm standing up at the slight accent that coats the word. Funny, that didn't happen when Wilson said it earlier. "It's a state that all magician's, with training, can reach. It allows us to access our raw power without having to chant or use gestures to cast the spell." I can't help but stare at him as he speaks. His voice is different, the gravity of his words starting to sink in. "In that state, we are not ourselves, our personalities are gone. It allows us to focus, to ignore all other distractions." Nodding, I try to swallow, but my throat is dry, so I reach for my glass, sipping at the cool water. "Somehow, seeing you so panicked made me protective and set off euisa ." He sounds just as confused as I am, and although I want to shout and demand explanations, I know it won't help.

"Does that happen often?"

"I've never seen it off the battlefield," Wilson chimes in, still going through his meal like it's the first food he's seen in weeks. "It was pretty intense, I thought you were going to blow us up." He chuckles, but it's not the carefree laugh I'm used to hearing from him, it's an awkward, nervous laugh. It's then I realise how much danger we had been in.

"He truly could have killed us?" My words are quiet, light, but I'm suddenly acutely aware of how close I am to him. Is that anger and power still there? Am I sitting next to a timebomb? Grayson turns to me, an unreadable expression on his face as he thinks over my question.

"Could you sense how much power I was drawing to me?"

Nodding, I shudder as I remember how it felt being so close to that much power, what it felt like when he touched my Goddess mark earlier whilst using his magic. "Yes. I've never felt anything like it."

"If I'd released that amount of magic…" He trails off, and I see the guilt in his eyes as he shakes his head, poking at his half-eaten meal. The magnitude of his words is staggering, and I can tell he is waiting for me to freak out about what almost happened, but I don't see it that way. If I had looked at every what-if in my life, I never would have survived. Uncertainty is the constant companion of a slave, never sure if you will live to see the next day, so what-ifs are useless to me. Putting down my cutlery, I push my plate away, suddenly losing my appetite.

"It was my fault, wasn't it?"

"Why would it be your fault?" Glancing up from my plate, I frown at his question. Of course it was my fault.

"You said so yourself—your magic is different around me. Like when you healed me, it's… more ," I reply, and Wilson actually stops eating and glances between the two of us.

"Wait, back up. I heard you mention the guards hurting you earlier, but they beat you so badly Grayson had to heal you?" Disgust lines his voice and I can see the shared look between the two magicians.

Grayson turns to Wilson, his frown deepening as he consults with him. "Yes, but she was healed in seconds."

"That's not possible," Wilson mutters under his breath as he stares at his plate, contemplating what his mentor just said before glancing back up at the older magician. "I mean, I know your magic is powerful, but I've never heard of someone healing that quickly. Not even the healers can manage that."

As the magicians discuss my recovery, I can't help but think of the healers who reside in the castle. Some of the magicians are chosen by the Mother to train to become healers, although it's rare and most of them are needed on the front lines to help heal our troops against the onslaught of the elves' attacks. All magicians can heal, but it takes a lot of discipline and hard work, so the healers are coveted.

"Clarissa, can we try something?" Grayson's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I realise he's waiting for a response. Looking at him wearily, I wait for him to explain before blindly agreeing. He seems to realise this and gestures towards the other magician. "I want to see if you can amplify Wilson's magic too, or if it's just me." Biting my lip, I glance between the two of them. I am learning to trust them, but I need reassurances, and all of this is completely new to me. They want to use me in their experiment, but magic still makes me nervous. What if it goes wrong, or someone gets hurt?

Wilson nods in agreement, his ever-present smile still in place as he looks over at Grayson. "What do you need me to do?"

"Create a globe light," Grayson instructs, nodding as Wilson cups his hands together and whispers in a different language. I can't quite hear the words he uses, but I can feel the magic in them rolling along my skin as a small ball of white light hovers above his hands. "Good, now, Clarissa, can you come here?" Pulling my gaze from the ball of light, I slip out of my chair and walk slowly around the table. "Wilson, place your hand on her, directly on her skin."

I do as he says, offering Wilson my hand and placing it in his as his face twists in concentration, staring at his light. As soon as he touches my skin, I gasp as a tingle of magic rolls through me, the light in front of us glowing so bright it's almost blinding.

"Whoa," Wilson murmurs, as he slowly starts to pull his hand away. The light fizzles into a hundred smaller lights before they disappear as soon as he loses contact with my skin.

"You amplify magic." The hushed, awe-filled words have me turning to Grayson, frowning at the change in him. Although he's looking at me, he isn't really seeing me. "You don't just detect, you amplify."

"Mother above," Wilson whispers as he takes in Grayson's words, his eyes widening when he realises the implications. I don't understand, my frown deepening as I look between them.

"What does this mean?" I demand, losing patience as they stare at me with wide eyes. Grayson seems to realise that he's scaring me and tones down some of the awe, his face spreading into a wide grin.

"This is the reason the Great Mother sent you to me." Leaning forward, he reaches out a hand and cups my cheek, a look resembling pride shining in his eyes. "You could help us win the war."