Page 17 of The Baker and the Wolf

“Now that you’ve reclaimed your magic,” Rina says, “you must live fully in it. If your magic is threatened, fight for it. To let it be stolen is to deny who you were created to be.”

I don’t understand . . . and yet, I do. Dimly I remember a time of devastating loss followed by a slow descent into emptiness. “I was just a child,” I murmur.

“Oh, my dear, I am so very sorry. If I’d only known—” She pauses, and I feel her struggle for control. “No dwelling on the past; we must focus on the task at hand. Now, Cerise, I will try to reach for your magic. You need to stop me. Do it so gently that I can’t tell what you’ve done.”

Instantly, I sense her intrusion. I simply will my magic to slide away from her as easily as I conceal my private thoughts.

“Oh, good work!” Rina says. “I don’t sense your magic anywhere.”

“You couldn’t see what I did?”

“I know only that your magic isn’t anywhere I expect it to be. Now, whoever has been stealing your magic will panic if you withhold it entirely like that. You must conceal your awareness of the theft until you can identify the thief.”

“You’re saying I have to let my magic be stolen again until I know who’s stealing it?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Howev—”

“But I knew exactly when you entered my head, so I should know who the thief is now that I’ve got my magic back.” She doesn’t answer right away, so I prompt, “Right?”

“If you’re awake at the time, you might know.” I sense her uncertainty, which isn’t exactly reassuring. “Cerise, you must understand that, to my knowledge, this situation is unprecedented. Some unidentified magic appears to be involved. I need time to research possible explanations.”

I’m too ignorant to know whether I should feel frightened or angry or what. “My father told me that you and my grandpère are on the Magic Council. Do you intend to arrest the thief?” Theft of magic must be a crime, like any other theft.

“He informed you correctly, and yes, we do.”

“After I tell you who it is.”

“Ideally, yes. And once we identify the origin and capability of the illicit magic involved.”

I open my eyes. In my grandmére’s face I see frustration, but I also see fear and determination and . . . is that . . . love? For me? A granddaughter she never laid eyes on until today?

“Ideally,” I echo aloud. “What if the thief figures out that I’ve been here, steals all of my magic, and kills me to keep me from telling you anything?”

“That hypothetical outcome is precisely what we will work to avoid through your magic lessons today,” she says, her blue eyes nearly sparking. “Are you ready?”

I think it over. What better option do I have? Exactly . . . none.

“I’m ready.”

“So,” Rina says, “let’s focus on hiding and safeguarding part of your magic. Find a safe spot for it and put up an impenetrable barrier.”

“How much should I hide away?” Which is, I realize now that I’ve asked it, a useless question. I have no idea how to measure or divide my magic.

She continues as if I didn’t ask. “We don’t know how often they steal from you, but I suspect it happens regularly. It should take a while for the thief to notice the diminishing supply. Let them steal from what you offer, and work on bulking up your magic until you’re strong enough to prevent any theft at all.”

“But what if, while they’re stealing my magic, they use it to locate the part I hid?”

“The idea is to prevent the thief from noticing that part of it is missing until you develop enough power and dexterity to hide it all. Keep in mind that once your magic is stolen, it is no longer yours, so it can’t reveal your secrets.”

She says all this with sincerity and concern while I’m thinking that if my brain follows hers into even one more twist or turn, it’ll be a hopelessly knotted mess.

“All right.” And I just . . . do it: I build a mental wall around a large portion of my magic. And, after all that angst, I find the task ridiculously easy.

“Well done.”

Feeling Rina’s fingers slide off my chin, I open my eyes. “I’m not happy about this,” she says, “but when you step out of my pocket world, you’ll be on your own again. For reasons I can’t yet divulge, I don’t dare enter your city until we’ve pinned down the thief, which is why I’ve been working through Barbaro. He’s less than ideal as a go-between, but he doesn’t dare thwart my plans.”

“Who is he? Barbaro, I mean.” I try to appear mildly curious, but my heartrate sped up as soon as she spoke his name.

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