Page 59 of The Isles of the Gods
“No. I told you before, she handed me over when I was born. That makes two parents who can do without me, given my father’s recent choices. Any questions?”
My tone is deliberately sharp, and I expect him to wince, but he just rests his hand on the tiller over mine, his fingers warm.
I yank my gaze away to study the sail, to hide the effect it has on me. Without my gloves to cover the backs of my hands, it feels impossibly intimate. I have to stop reacting this way whenever he touches me, it’s ridiculous.
“Tell me about your magic,” he says gently. “What it’s been like, what you’ve tried so far.”
There’s a knot inside my gut at the very idea, but there’s nothing but encouragement on his face when I look across at him—that and exhaustion. It’s the tiredness in his eyes that softens me again.
“It’s always been like this,” I say quietly. “I was born with marks, like everyone else, but nothing ever came of them. Da tried so hard to help me. Having an air magician in the fleet would have been worth a lot. He always said if I could be as good a magician as I was a sailor, I’d be unstoppable.”
“I’d say you’re pretty unstoppable now,” Leander counters.
“Well, he took me to magicians in every port when I was young. They all tried to teach me.” My cheeks heat as I recall that shameful parade of failures.But what is she? How can thisbe?They made me feel like a freak and a failure, but I listened to them all, desperate for someone to help me.
“Did any of them have a theory?” he asks.
“Every one of them was so sure they could help, from the lady in the big house in Petron to the man in the hut in Kethos. And in the end, every one of them was just…angry. As if it might be contagious. One woman said the spirits didn’twantto talk to me. Another said it was like they couldn’t see me at all.” My voice catches, my throat thickening, and I fall silent, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek.
I can still see my father’s face, over those years—he always started out so determined, and faded to frustrated defeat everytime.
“They were wrong to blame you for their own failings,” Leander says, his fingers tightening over mine.
“Well, my father didn’t give up on me, not for a long time. Every time he came back from a trip, it was the first thing he’d ask.” As much as I looked forward to his return, I always dreaded that question. Dreaded the answer I’d have to give.
Leander’s expression is difficult to read as I press on.
“Anyway, eventually even he couldn’t pretend it was coming. So he bought me gloves instead.”
“And I’ve noticed you never take them off,” Leander says quietly. “Selly, I know he was trying to help, but for him to have a daughter capable of”—he raises his free hand, gesturing at the jury-rigged boat coasting along the waves—“ofthis,and to make you feel anything less than—”
“It was a kindness.” I cut him off. “He tried everything.”
I could never find a way to explain the mixture of shame and gratitude that washed through me when he handed thegloves over. When he accepted that whatever the fault was in me, it wasn’t something we could mend.
It was why I was desperate to learn from Rensa while he was away. My magic was such a disappointment to him—if I could have shown him I was ready to step up and take my first mate’s knot, young as I am, that would have helped me claw back some part of his good opinion. Would have given him something to be proud of.
Leander opens his mouth, closes it again, and I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully when he continues. “Well, those magicians who tried to teach you—I’m sure they were doing their best, but every one of them was wrong. Your lessons should have been here, on the sea. This is your home. This is who you are. This is where your magic will be.”
I look across at him then, meeting his brown eyes, searching for words. He’s wrong about the magic, but he understands the way I belong to the sea—that much I can tell. I didn’t expect a boy from a palace to see me so clearly.
“Look,” he says. “I’ll shut up if you want. I know I come off as arrogant, but I reallyamdifferent to everyone who’s tried to teach you before. I’m stronger. And I didn’t learn this once, I learned it four times, for the four elements. I apprenticed with the best magicians in Alinor. Let me teach you once—just once—and if it doesn’t work, I’ll never mention it again.”
I let myself close my eyes. Behind my eyelids, I can see the parade of failed teachers—their scowls, their frowns, the way they studied me like some sort of insect. Is it worth the humiliation of reaching for the spirits in front of a magician like Leander and finding nothing, to never have to discuss this with him again?
Probably, yes.
When I lift my lashes to glare at him, he has a gentle smile waiting. Does anyone ever say no to him?
“None of this is making me like you more,” I mutter.
“I can hear you being surly at me, but I’m very good at ignoring what I don’t want to notice,” he says with a grin. “Let me take the tiller so you can concentrate. Now, there’s a reason we refer to it ascharmingthe spirits. You’re appealing to them, you’re not ordering them around. You’re convincing them to do what you want by getting them on your side.”
He says it like it’s simple. Like it makes no difference he’s a prince known for charm above all else, and I’m…not known for my charm. “Tell me how you do it, then,” I say, already mentally pulling back.
Leander considers the question. “Most magicians have just one affinity, so I’ve only been able to ask a few of my family about this,” he admits. “In my experience, the different types of spirits have different personalities. It’s like I said when we were up on the bow of theLizabetta.Water spirits are playful—to charm them, you invite them into a game with you. Air spirits are haughtier. You compliment them, then you politely leave space for the thing you’d like them to do.”
“I can’t even connect with them,” I reply, “let alone figure out my tone of voice for talking to them.”
