Page 208 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
I cringed. “I’m sorry.” Again, I offered my hands to him. “You can try again. I’ll relax this time, I swear.”
“I’m afraid it won’t matter what you or I do.” He then addressed his clerics, dry as toast. “I cannot perform the reckoning, but I’ve uncovered why her powers are undetectable to the senses. Someone has shrouded her—quite well too.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means someone disguised your powers—probably to protect you from Gentian—or from anyone else you might’ve intimidated.”
“Did my mom do it?” There must’ve been a reason she didn’t tell many people she suspected I was the Aurora. And Briar had warned Uncle Neel my fire might scare the old heads at court.
“Ginny didn’t have that kind of power.” Myrrdin considered me, the conundrum that I was. “Have you happened across any Witches since you’ve been in this realm, Amy?”
I froze. So did my heart. “One. Briar took me to her—for a disguise—so we’d blend into this world. While we were there, I felt her trying to get into my head—like you were just doing—but it was only for a moment or two, and then Briar stopped her.”
“A moment might’ve been all she needed. Depending on how skilled she was.” Myrrdin lifted a hand. “Did you catch her name?”
For a psychic, he sure asked a lot of questions. “Yeah, her name was Tamsyn.”
The peanut gallery gasped.
Myrrdin’s serene mouth tensed. “Tamsyn of Timbermoor?”
Why did I feel like I was going to regret meeting her? “I think that’s where she said she was from.”
“Bullocks,” Morus cursed, flusterment doing nothing to improve his appearance.
I swallowed hard. “She wasn’t trying to protect me, was she?”
Myrrdin rubbed a crease between his brows. “Oh, I think she was. In her own destructive way. As a token of her love for your mother, I’d wager. She was one of Ginny’s muses before she was relieved of her duties—she could be gluttonous with the crystal magics, you see.” He flipped a hand. “Anyhow, well-meaning though Tamsyn might’ve been, she’s created quite an obstacle for us in summoning your powers to you properly. She’s a Witch of robust skill, as you might guess, so I suspect the shroud she placed on your powers is a permanent fixture now—without Tamsyn herself to lift it.”
“Does that mean you can’t conduct my summoning?” I really didn’t want to obliterate all the souls they’d saved from Gentian when my powers combusted out of me.
“A summoning is still possible—and required—but it’ll be a dicier affair if we’re in the dark as to what powers are coming our way.”
“What do you mean by dicier?”
His eyes didn’t shift from mine, though they seemed to want to. To look at his clerics—his colleagues—his friends. “Costlier.”
I shook my head. “Then—then we shouldn’t try it. I don’t want to risk anyone’s life. I should just leave and hide in the jungle—somewhere away from anyone else so—”
“Nonsense,” Myrrdin chided, patting my knee. “We’ll simply put our centuries-old minds together and mitigate the possible damage. We may enlist the help of some of the garden’s residents. There are several here strong enough to withstand hosting your powers for a spell.” His gaze slid toward Pete and back again. “The more hosts we have, the more we can dilute the potency of your powers amongst us, and the less danger there will be.”
“And the risk for her?” Pete jarred me with a prospect I hadn’t even considered. What would the summoning do to me? “Is she endurant enough to withstand the onslaught of those powers?”
Myrrdin’s serenity returned. “Danu rarely creates a being weaker than the force of its own powers, my friend.”
Pete’s nostrils flared. “That’s a shite answer, Myrrdin, and you know it.”
“If it pleases you, Pete, we can continue her training, shore her up for the summoning, but I have all the faith in the Isle that she’s strong enough as she is.”
I glanced down at my arms, more muscled from physical training than they had been, yes, but still spindly. I decided Myrrdin’s faith was misplaced.
“Myrrdin,” Pete said. “She’s a fire sylph.”
That tidbit of information was even more astounding—and horrifying—to the clerics than learning Tamsyn of Timbermoor had shrouded my magic. Of course, Myrrdin was unphased by the revelation. Pete must’ve been right—if I knew I had a power, Myrrdin knew I had it too.
“What’s to stop her from consuming herself in her own flames?” Pete asked. “And anyone hosting them, for that matter?”
“We’ll strategize on that as well,” Myrrdin said, appraising me.
