“I don’t need saving! I needed to trust you!”
“I’m sorry,” he says simply. “People make mistakes, Gemma. We take the wrong action for the right reasons, and the right action for the wrong reasons. If you like, I’ll go to McCleethy tomorrow and tell her she has no more hold over me.”
“She’ll send Fowlson,” I remind him.
He shrugs. “Let him come.”
“There’s no need to go to McCleethy,” I say, pulling a loose thread till my hem unravels further. “Then she’ll know that I know. And anyway, I’ll not be telling you my secrets again. And you’re wrong. Amar wasn’t all you had in this world,” I say, blinking up at the wooden rafters of the boathouse. “You didn’t have any faith in me.”
He nods, accepting the blow, and then he is ready with his own. “I wonder if you allow yourself to have faith in anyone.”
Circe’s words return to me: You’ll come back to me when there is no one else to trust.
“I’m going. I shan’t be back.” I bolt for the door and push through it with all my strength, letting it slap against the side of the boathouse.
Kartik comes after me, and takes hold of my hand. “Gemma,” he says, “you’re not the only lost soul in this world.”
It’s tempting to keep holding fast to his hand, but I can’t. “You’re wrong about that.” I slide my fingers free of his and ball them into a fist at my stomach and run for the secret door.
I pass Neela, Creostus, and two other centaurs in the poppy fields on the way to the Temple. They’ve a bushel of poppies, and they argue with the Hajin over the price.
“Off to make bargains with the Hajin?” Neela sneers.
“What I do is none of your concern,” I snap back.
“You promised us a share,” she says, shifting into a perfect replica of me and back again.
“I’ll give it when I choose,” I say. “If I choose. For how do I know you’re not in alliance with the Winterlands creatures?”
Neela’s lips curl back in a snarl. “You accuse us?”
When I don’t answer, Creostus steps forward. “You’re just like the others.”
“Go away,” I say, but I’m the one who leaves, traveling up the mountain to the well of eternity.
I put my hands on the well and stare straight into Circe’s placid face.
“I want to know everything you can tell me about the Order, the Rakshana. Leave nothing out,” I say. “And then I want you to tell me how to be the master of this magic.”
“What has happened?” she asks.
“You were right. They’re plotting against me. All of them. I won’t let them take the power away from me.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
I perch on the edge of the well, drawing my knees to my chest. The hem of my skirt floats out on the water, reminding me of funeral flowers set upon the Ganges. “I’m ready,” I say, more to myself than to her.
“I must know something first. The last time I saw you, you were headed for the Winterlands. Tell me, did you find the Tree of All Souls?”
“Yes.”
“And was it as powerful as the Temple?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “Its magic is different. But extraordinary.”
“What did it show you?” she asks, and a small sigh echoes in the cave.
“Eugenia Spence. She’s alive,” I answer.
Circe is so quiet I think she has died.
“What did she want?” she asks at last.
“She wants me to find something for her. A dagger.”
There is a moment’s pause. “And have you found it?”
“I’ve answered enough of your questions. You shall answer mine,” I snap. “Teach me.”
“It will cost you more magic,” she murmurs.
“Yes, I’ll pay it. Why do you want it?” I add. “What can you possibly do with it if you can’t leave the well?”
Her voice floats up from the depths. “What do you care? This is a chess match, Gemma. Do you want to win or not?”
“I do.”
“Then listen closely….”
I sit for hours at Circe’s side, listening until I understand, until I stop fearing my strength, until something deep within me is unleashed. And when I leave the Temple, I am no longer afraid of the power that lives inside me. I worship it. I will close the borders of myself and defend them without mercy.
I walk through the willows, and I hear Amar’s horse galloping fast behind me. I don’t run. I stand and face him. He draws close; his horse’s icy breath cools my face.
