“I’m a friend of your sister.” Not the truth but not entirely a lie. Waking up dazed and confused, surrounded by unfamiliar people in a strange room was no way to start a potential partnership. “I need to hire a Magician. Tashiana recommended you.”

Both eyes fluttered open. Her forehead puckered with the effort of focusing on my face. “Tashi?”

Careful to keep the teacup steady, I slipped her spectacles from my pocket, flicked them open with a finger, and slid them onto her face. The lenses magnified her eyes as she blinked at me like a startled toad. “Who did you say you were?”

A distinct Gallandic accent colored Brigette’s speech. Tashiana had spoken with an accent, too, but hers hadn’t been familiar. I wondered about the reason for the discrepancy but not enough to bother asking. There were more important questions to answer first.

I snapped my fingers, and an electric-blue crackle of energy arced over my fingers. “Evelyn Stormbourne, Lady of Thunder, Queen of Inselgrau. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She scrambled back, shoving herself into a mostly upright position. I passed her the teacup, which she took with shaking hands.

“Drink,” I said. “But be careful. It’s hot.”

“You’re a... a goddess?”

Pressing a finger to her knuckles, I encouraged her to raise her cup. She took an obedient sip.

“Hardly,” I said. “Do you know of any elemental gods still in this world? I mean, ones like in the legends?”

She furrowed her brow and drank more tea. I waggled my fingers at Niffin, beckoning him to pass me a cake. “The ancient ones, they were the elements. The old Gods of Thunder were the storms themselves—living, breathing lightning and thunder.” I snapped again and produced a shower of sparks. Parlor tricks, but it kept Brigette awake and focused. “I’m merely a young woman. Blood, bone, skin, and sinew. On good days, the lightning and I are very agreeable companions.”

“And on bad days?” Brigette accepted the teacake I offered and bit off a corner, spilling powdered sugar on her poor excuse for a dress.

“On bad days, I am a lion tamer trying not to get her head bitten off.”

A berry blush rose in her cheeks. Her pale-brown skin was the color of old parchment and seemed almost as fragile. Deep-purple circles underscored her eyes, which were as dark as a midnight sky. Ah, that’s her shared commonality with her sister. They have the same eyes.

“What does a queen want with me?” Brigette finished her cake, and I motioned for Niffin to bring her another. The sugar seemed to be perking her up. I’d roll her in honey glaze and dip her in chocolate if it made her willing to listen.

“You won’t like my answer.” I rose and selected a sandwich from the tray. Nibbling, I paced at the foot of the bed. “Tashiana told us a little about your troubles. What I have to say isn’t going to make things better. Could make things worse. But I want to be clear that you’re not being held here against your will. Refuse my offer, and I’ll have a carriage take you back to your apothecary shop right away.”

Look at you, Grandfather said, taking command of the Schulzes’ household as though it were you own. How queenly of you. It’s like you’re a natural.

At the mention of being held against her will, Brigette flinched. “Where am I?” She scanned the room. “Somewhere very fine by the looks of it. Not Inselgrau, though. There’s not enough mordid in the world to make me sleep through a journey like that.”

I’d heard of mordid, but my knowledge of it came from a few limited entries in a scientific book in my father’s library. Mordid was derived from a small black flower that bloomed at night, preferring to grow in arid places. The bloom’s nectar held anodynic properties and could be processed into several forms for easy consumption, all of which were highly addictive. If Brigette suffered horrible headaches, mordid would certainly ease her pain, but in return she had given up bits and pieces of herself until almost nothing remained. I couldn’t compare her presently to what she had been in the past, but I could guess. She hadn’t always been this withered, half-dead creature. I was sure of it.

Brigette drained her teacup and held it out for a refill. Niffin scooped up the cooling pot and poured.

“I know the relationship between Magicians and the courts of the gods.” She watched Niffin spoon sugar into her cup and nodded when he had filled it to her satisfaction. “Magical history was nearly as sacred a subject as theory and practical application.”

“You’ve been to university?” I tried not to let my surprise, or jealousy, show.

“Only the first year. The harder the Magic, the worse my...” She grimaced, swirling a finger around her head. “Anyway, I have a feeling I know what you’re going to ask me.”

Oh, this should be good, Grandfather said. She’ll never guess it all. Not in a million years.

“I’m not sure it’s quite what you think,” I said.

“You want me to do Magic for you, though. That’s the crux of it.”

I offered an apologetic smile. “No point in trying to put a sugar coating on it.”

Her gaze dropped to her cup when I mentioned sugar.

“I won’t try to trick you into anything.”

“You want a love spell,” she said.

“She needs no spells for that.” Malita snickered. “Just ask Gideon.”

I shot Malita a withering glance, but it only made her laugh harder.

“I’ll tell you exactly what this is about,” I said to Brigette. “Then you tell me if you’re interested.”

As simply as possible, I explained my relationship with Le Poing Fermé, their recent activities in Inselgrau, and the demands they’d made of me. At the mention of the powerful cabal, Brigette’s eyes popped wide. Another cherry stain bled into her cheeks. By the time I’d finished explaining my plans, the whites of her eyes shone clearly around her dark irises. Her mouth hung wide, chin nearly to her chest.

“Go ahead and shoot me now and put me out of my misery,” she said.

Dumbly, I blinked at her.

“Even without the headaches, without the mordid...” She shook her head. “I don’t stand a chance against that cabal. And if I tried, either they’d kill me, or my brain would catch fire and explode—or that’s what it would feel like, anyway. That kind of Magic...” She dabbed her eyes. “Take me back to my shop. I can’t help you.”

“If the headaches weren’t a factor, what would your answer be?”

She set down her teacup and drew her knees up under her chin. “I don’t allow myself to think that way. If I start down that what-if hole, I’ll never crawl back out.”

“Please?” I eased closer to her and held her gaze. “Just for a moment, think about it. If not for the headaches, what would you want for your life, more than anything else?”

She closed her eyes. I thought she was shutting me out, refusing to answer. Instead she let out a long breath, removed her spectacles, and rubbed her eyes. “Purpose. All I ever wanted was to have a purpose. Something more than just surviving day to day.”

Niffin cleared his throat and stood. He gave me an inscrutable look, bit his bottom lip, and furrowed his brow. “What if...” He glanced at Malita.

She nodded as if sensing what he was going to say and encouraging him to continue.

“What if I told you there was an alternative to the mordid? Something non-addictive. Something much less deadly.”

Brigette and I both frowned at him.

“Then I’d say I doubted its efficacy,” she said. “I’ve tried everything. Mordid is the only thing that dulls the pain.”

“I can assure you that you’ve never tried djageesh.”

“Never tried it?” She coughed a sharp laugh. “I can’t even pronounce it. I’ve never heard of it, either, and I’m an apothecary, for the gods’ sakes.”

“I’ve been with your people for weeks, and I’ve never heard of it,” I said.

He pursed his lips. “It is not something we advertise. We have enough trouble keeping away bandits and thieves as it is. If word of djageesh were to spread...” He said nothing more, letting us draw our own conclusions about the trouble the Fantazikes would attract if they were known to possess a powerful medicine capable of doing everything he’d claimed.