own decision.”
I looked at him with relief, then tensed again as he added, “I do find it troubling, however, that you will not even tell me what these purported dangers are.”
“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” Nat said stubbornly.
Penebrygg touched Nat’s arm again, as if to caution him. Wrexham wasn’t the only one glaring at Nat now. Whispers went up and down the table.
“That lad’s a troublemaker,” Lord Roxburgh said audibly, beady eyes bright.
“And what about her ?” Ffoulkes muttered, looking straight at me.
Any response would be better than nothing, I realized, provided it showed good intentions. I turned to the King. “It is quite true that mind-reading is dangerous, Your Majesty, in more ways than I can easily describe to you here. But I should also warn you that the dangers are not all on my side.”
The King looked disconcerted. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that perhaps not everyone at Court would wish me to know their true thoughts. All their thoughts . . . for that is how the magic works sometimes.”
That hit home, to judge from some of the faces around me. Perhaps I could win this argument after all.
Wrexham banged his fist on the table. “Don’t muddy the waters, Chantress! There should be no secrets from the Council or the King. If a man is true, he will have nothing to fear, but let traitors beware. All those without alibis will be tested. You may ransack every last corner of their heads, as long as you find the thief.”
“I’m not sure it’s that simple—” I began.
“Chantress, it is that simple.” Wrexham leaned across the table toward me, his face ominous. “I lead men in battle who brave terrible dangers for their country’s sake. With your power, why should you be different?”
I stared at him, my cheeks flaming. Was the man saying I was a coward?
“My lady Chantress, we all know you have the heart of a lion.” The King spoke with exquisite politeness, but he did not rebuke Wrexham, and there was frustration in his gaze now as well as respect. “That is why we find your refusal so hard to accept. Can you truly see no way to help us? By us , of course, I do not mean merely me or the Council. I speak as well for all those in this kingdom who will go hungry today, for the children starving in the streets, for every soul in this kingdom who needs what the crucible can bestow, if only it can be found.”
His words made me feel ashamed. It was true: I had been thinking only of myself. And it was possible I had an exaggerated sense of the perils involved. After all, I had read many minds before I had gotten lost in one—and since then I had learnedmuch more about magic and about myself. If I sensed danger, surely I’d have a good chance of turning back before harm could befall me. In any case, who was I to exempt myself from danger when so many were suffering?
“I ask one last time,” the King said. “Will you use the moonbriar song for us?”
I hesitated. Was there any other way forward? Any other magic I could use? None that I could see. “I will do as you ask, Your Majesty.”
Nat flinched. “You can’t!” This time he spoke directly to me.
Much as I appreciated his instinct to protect me, I could not yield to it. Not for his sake, and not for mine. This was my battle to fight, my risk to take. “I can,” I said. “And I must.”
It hurt to see his dismay. We stared at each other a moment more. Then, with an expression of pain, he bowed his head. It seemed I had won the argument. But at what cost?
It can all be sorted out later , I told myself. As long as we come through this.
I pushed back my chair and stood. “You said you had the seeds, Your Majesty?”
“They will be brought here now,” the King said.
Sir Isaac and Wrexham rose from the table and left the room. When they returned, they were carrying a locked, gold-studded coffer, which they set before the King. Each man then produced a key—brass for Sir
I looked at him with relief, then tensed again as he added, “I do find it troubling, however, that you will not even tell me what these purported dangers are.”
“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” Nat said stubbornly.
Penebrygg touched Nat’s arm again, as if to caution him. Wrexham wasn’t the only one glaring at Nat now. Whispers went up and down the table.
“That lad’s a troublemaker,” Lord Roxburgh said audibly, beady eyes bright.
“And what about her ?” Ffoulkes muttered, looking straight at me.
Any response would be better than nothing, I realized, provided it showed good intentions. I turned to the King. “It is quite true that mind-reading is dangerous, Your Majesty, in more ways than I can easily describe to you here. But I should also warn you that the dangers are not all on my side.”
The King looked disconcerted. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that perhaps not everyone at Court would wish me to know their true thoughts. All their thoughts . . . for that is how the magic works sometimes.”
That hit home, to judge from some of the faces around me. Perhaps I could win this argument after all.
Wrexham banged his fist on the table. “Don’t muddy the waters, Chantress! There should be no secrets from the Council or the King. If a man is true, he will have nothing to fear, but let traitors beware. All those without alibis will be tested. You may ransack every last corner of their heads, as long as you find the thief.”
“I’m not sure it’s that simple—” I began.
“Chantress, it is that simple.” Wrexham leaned across the table toward me, his face ominous. “I lead men in battle who brave terrible dangers for their country’s sake. With your power, why should you be different?”
I stared at him, my cheeks flaming. Was the man saying I was a coward?
“My lady Chantress, we all know you have the heart of a lion.” The King spoke with exquisite politeness, but he did not rebuke Wrexham, and there was frustration in his gaze now as well as respect. “That is why we find your refusal so hard to accept. Can you truly see no way to help us? By us , of course, I do not mean merely me or the Council. I speak as well for all those in this kingdom who will go hungry today, for the children starving in the streets, for every soul in this kingdom who needs what the crucible can bestow, if only it can be found.”
His words made me feel ashamed. It was true: I had been thinking only of myself. And it was possible I had an exaggerated sense of the perils involved. After all, I had read many minds before I had gotten lost in one—and since then I had learnedmuch more about magic and about myself. If I sensed danger, surely I’d have a good chance of turning back before harm could befall me. In any case, who was I to exempt myself from danger when so many were suffering?
“I ask one last time,” the King said. “Will you use the moonbriar song for us?”
I hesitated. Was there any other way forward? Any other magic I could use? None that I could see. “I will do as you ask, Your Majesty.”
Nat flinched. “You can’t!” This time he spoke directly to me.
Much as I appreciated his instinct to protect me, I could not yield to it. Not for his sake, and not for mine. This was my battle to fight, my risk to take. “I can,” I said. “And I must.”
It hurt to see his dismay. We stared at each other a moment more. Then, with an expression of pain, he bowed his head. It seemed I had won the argument. But at what cost?
It can all be sorted out later , I told myself. As long as we come through this.
I pushed back my chair and stood. “You said you had the seeds, Your Majesty?”
“They will be brought here now,” the King said.
Sir Isaac and Wrexham rose from the table and left the room. When they returned, they were carrying a locked, gold-studded coffer, which they set before the King. Each man then produced a key—brass for Sir
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