Page 105 of The Court of Venus

Charles Guildford questioned Edward from his horse, pointing to the flaming northwest tower and the graveyard: Why were there fires? Why was there such wretched screaming? Where was Miranda?

Miranda cringed up to them. Gave her excuses, her assurances she’d fought me before I tried to fly off with the lord chancellor. She pointed to the chapel. “They fell. They are lying somewhere beyond the fire.”

Charles dropped from his horse. He gripped Edward’s jerkin, hoisting him off the ground. “How did this happen?”

He choked out, “She was terrifying. She made me feel such horrible—” A shudder.

Charles scoffed and released him. Guildford men began their prowl across the courtyard as more guards streamed down from the rampart towers, shouting about a white dragon. A mythic beast.

We were out of time. Roland knew it as well as I did. The fire sequestering us in here was burning lower, the stone too wet to catch.

“Mouse,” he breathed, taking my face between his hands. “Thank you for coming for me.”

I brushed the split in his lip, knowing what he was going to do. He was going to ask me to leave him behind. I couldn’t fly him out now.

“Your arm is broken, and I’m too weak to heal it,” he said. “I was brought here to die. But you weren’t. You can pass through the barrier.” He nudged my nose with his. “Go.”

I shook my head fervently.

“How about a trade?”

“Not another one of your trades.”

“Listen.” He ducked to meet my eyes. “You came here to save my life. I’d redeem myself now. Let me save yours.” He pressed his lips to mine. A warm brush of his mouth, not nearly enough. “Please, Mouse. Do this for me.”

“No,” I said through my teeth.

“Are you so stubborn you’ll die for it?”

I pleaded with my eyes. His thumb skimmed down my cheekbone, parted the seam of my mouth, and just as the Moon slid out from behind a cloud, he angled his head. Kissed me gently. Against my lips, he murmured my name.

Moonlight filtered through the gaping ceiling and pooled at our feet. With a sudden gasp, I broke away from him, tumbling down into memory. The past twisted together strangely. I saw a little girl, scabbed knees tucked into her chin, twisting a white braid between her fingers and plotting how to escape her life. “What might I be capable of, if I were the one struck by lightning?” she whispered to herself.

My eyes shot open.

I weaved my good hand through the spill of light. It was the same as always: small and so pale, I could see the veins beneath my skin. Yet somehow, I was emboldened. Changed. There had always been a limitation on my power. Before, it had been held in a vessel. Now its physical form was ripped away. Now, it wanted to burst forth in every direction.

She is the closest celestial body in the sky. Her face always shifting. There is an entire side to her we’ll never see, and I suspect the same is true for you.

My blood hummed. The Moon showed me all of her faces, even the ones meant to stay in the dark.

This was what Prospero had been searching for.

This was exaltation.

Twenty-Four

Sorcerers pull our magic directly from our ruling planets. Many factors determine our capacity for magic and our stamina: birth date, hour, location. The Sun and Moon rule over only one sign each, which is why I believe those magicians are exceedingly rare, and exceedingly gifted. A Sagittarius Jupiter is, more often than not, far more adept than a Pisces Jupiter at expansion magic. An Aries Mars is usually a physical talent, a force on the battlefield, while a Scorpio Mars is far more insidious when breaking intimate bonds. And so on. However, when choosing an apprentice, I consider only this: Can the magician use their mind as well as their magic? That is what truly makes an extraordinary sorcerer.

—PROSPERO THE ALL-KNOWING, DIARIES, UNDATED

“Mouse,” Roland said, peering down. He gripped me tightly. “Your eyes are glowing.”

I glanced around the chapel, swiveling my head. Roland had to avert his eyes, it was so bright. It felt as if light beamed from every direction inside of me. As if I were the source, the planet, itself.

And I knew instinctually, the way a cat twists to always land on its feet, that my power would stretch in new ways if I asked it to.

I began to transform, but instead of focusing on an area of my body, I cast it outward, toward Roland. I imagined him as Edward Guildford, gangly and surprisingly vicious, with his sneer and haughty eyes. Edward Guildford, who had left us behind to die. This was the trick to mastering someone’s appearance: I had to imagine who they truly were inside.