Learning how to manipulate death glamour was both terrifying and enthralling in equal measure. My slapdash methods proved upsetting to Marek. He begrudgingly admitted that the dream cultivation method I’d repurposed was a reasonable approach. He’d been less enthused by my music, preferring solemn communion himself. Still, he lived up to his promise and taught me how to avoid killing myself with my own glamour.

The method of shielding yourself from your own death glamour was to be able to gulp it down like a starving man before a banquet. It at first seemed counterintuitive, given the care with which it had to be cultivated. However, once you had cultivated it, it was aligned to your will and could be pushed back into your hearth without worry.

The challenge was getting it into your hearth before it began to eat at the life force of your body.

My cloak sped that process up immensely. Where most were taught by having another Witch shield them, countering the glamour if they acted too slowly, I could rely on my cloak to absorb the excess glamour before it threatened me. I was also sped along by my bellows-breath technique. When my pathways had been clogged, cultivating had been like trying to breathe through a pipe clogged with wool. The spiritual muscles I’d trained to help me suck in that glamour now aided me in devouring the rogue glamour.

Marek left me with instructions to practise the technique for the next two days, and we parted ways. Though the morning had been torture, the rest of the day had flown by. I’d long ago lost track of time, and it was with some shock I realised the sun was low on the horizon. It was a mere couple of hours before dinner.

Cursing to myself, I went looking for Sephy. Internally, I was panicking. We’d agreed to meet for lunch, which, with all the drilling of my gift and annoying Marek, I’d callously forgotten.

I roamed the halls, bumping into Gaz and Lance, who calmed me down a notch. Gaz explained that everyone in the mansion could feel Marek’s and my practice. It seemed random bursts of death glamour had got everyone’s attention. It was so noticeable, in fact, that apparently some servants had set up a runic formation around the study to contain it.

All glamour carried with it the idea of what it represented, even if it got nowhere near you. It could warp your senses and distort your mind. Each was different in its manifestation. Large amounts of Ice glamour left a sense of cold creeping into your limbs, while more esoteric gifts, like Rune glamour, heightened your sense for patterns, with those exposed sometimes found staring at the same section of a tapestry for hours.

Death glamour didn’t creep or confuse. No, it kicked in the door and shouted that your existence was a fleeting and fragile thing.

Even in the chaotic mix of glamours being wielded in the Lodge, my training cut through. Nothing ruins a day like erratic whispers reminding you of your mortality. After extracting a promise from me that I’d not train outside of my room, they pointed me to the Lodge’s small library, where I could apparently find Sephy.

I found her lounging in a chair beside a window. The library was not much bigger than the study. It had four bookshelves, and the walls were lined with glass display cases holding all manner of taxidermy, bones, preserved claws, and pickled monsters in jars. Like the study, the furnishings were grand, making this place a comfy trap to pin down a wandering ranger.

She looked up from her book, not glancing at me, but checking out the window. The fading light painted her in hues of orange, her hair drank in the light, leaving it dark crimson, framing the warm curves of her face. My eyes were drawn once again to her lips, which were delicately pursed. Along with the slight tilt of her eyebrows, they left her looking concerned.

I struggled to think of much else, lost in admiring her. Vaguely, I noticed the window overlooked the training yard. There, Gawain, Arthur, Maeve, Kay, and Lance were working through some sword forms.

“Did training rot your tongue?” Her voice was playful, but I didn’t miss the sting to it. She was annoyed.

“I’m sorry. I was just taking in the view,” I replied.

“Hiding behind flattery, I see. With me, it makes poor cover,” she grumbled.

“’Tis the truth, though,” I answered before I could stop myself. I must’ve sounded earnest, as I saw a hint of a blush creep up her cheeks.

“Is that meant to be an apology? Or has death glamour swept you up, so you forget our meeting entirely? I hope at least it has been fun?” Her voice returned, more playful now.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“How fun is learning to avoid being killed by your own glamour?” I replied, and she grimaced. “I am sorry, though. I genuinely lost track of time.”

“It’s not like I can blame you. I’d rather you knew such things than didn’t.”

“Do you have time to talk now?” I asked tentatively.

“I would love to say yes, but right now I’m focusing on ensuring Arthur does not ask Elaine or Lance anything stupid about her parentage. And with them wrapping up training, it seems I must keep an eye on it. I would’ve been free earlier.” She stood and stretched, and I found myself looking, only to blush as she smirked.

“So, am I forgiven?”

“I can’t say I blame you. I’d do the same if someone turned up who could teach me more about my gift. Though, in my case, I’d first be checking they weren’t a Seelie-cursed cultist.” We left the library and walked towards the stairs. “Honestly, I’m more annoyed about yesterday. I was so close!”

“It seems almost everyone is annoyed about yesterday.” I really hadn’t expected everyone to get so competitive, and the result had only made things more complicated. “You’re not going to say they cheated, are you?”

“No, I’m not that petty. I’m more annoyed that you’re so hard to catch when you’ve only just stepped into Iron. Though honestly, if you didn’t want everyone so worked up, you shouldn’t have offered a song as a reward,” she chided, bumping me with her shoulder.

“You do realise I’d love to write you a song, competition or not.” Again, a hint of blush crept on her. But, warmed up with a bit of verbal sparring, she quickly got it under control.

“That may be, but I want to earn a song on my own merit. Let’s speak after dinner.” We were almost at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes. Wait… Sidhe take me. I have to speak with Maeve, then,” I grumbled.

“Lady Maeve actually would like to invite you to the conversation, Lady Persephone.” Rensleigh’s voice came from the step above us. The tall, hawk-faced woman appeared as if from nowhere. Neither of us flinched, but I saw a flare of shock in her eyes, which I’m certain was reflected by mine.

I still didn’t know what to make of the Governess. Sephy had let me know she suspected she was part of the ‘Magpies’, the intelligence wing of the Chox family. Her cultivation was a mystery, and while she’d been perfectly pleasant, there was an aura of danger around her that was of rare quality.

“How long have you been there?” I asked sharply. Creeping up on us was rude.

“Only a moment. I was just returning from the manor proper. I needed to lodge a number of messages.” The woman smiled, none of us touching on the fact she was somehow on the stairs above us, despite claiming to have just come from outside. “She asked me to relay the message if I should see either of you, so seeing you together was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“Well, thank you. I’ll be sure to attend,” Sephy said in a perfectly even and friendly tone that didn’t match the tension of the moment.

“Also, I say this more to share an observation, but I understand the De Grailles are looking all over for their missing daughter. You may wish to let them know your whereabouts.”

“Thank you, Lady Rensleigh,” Sephy said, and the woman nodded before sweeping out of view into the lower floors. Her movements were so smooth that if I hadn’t been able to see her feet move, I’d have sworn that she floated away.

Without saying a word to each other, we headed back up the stairs in silence, until we put a couple of rooms between her and us. It wouldn’t stop a cultivator of her power spying on us, but it would now be undeniably rude of her to do so. We were in the gallery that overlooked the arena. The sounds of battle echoed through the long, empty room, wafting in through the open windows that led out to a small balcony.

Not wanting further distractions, we both leant against the wall, listening to the sounds of sparring. I spread out my smoke, looking for unexpected presences. Eventually, I nodded, confirming we were alone.

“By all that is Seelie, that woman is a monster,” Sephy groaned, leaning against the wall. “What’s your take on all that?”

“I can’t tell if she’s deliberately terrifying, or that’s just her. Still, both she and Maeve have been behaving, so that felt odd.” I mulled it over. It wasn’t confrontational but why else bother us while we were alone? “It was clandestine. She didn’t want others to know we spoke.”

“Agreed. Mentioning my family could also be a suggestion. Why would she want my family to know where I am?” Sephy stroked her chin, and I tried to think of what might’ve spurred this on.

“I’d assume it was a trap if not for Pel’s protection.” It didn’t feel like a trap, which made it the mark of a good trap. It didn’t make any sense to me, not with how they’d been acting so far. “Am I missing some political point of view here? Why do you think she wants your company for our chat? And is it related to telling your family where you are, or is that separate?”

“It’s nothing good, and as to my presence in the talk, I have some guesses.” She looked me up and down.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking that I really don’t want to have to explain to her that I’m far too selfish to share.”

“Share what?” I asked, but she just grinned.

“Don’t worry about it. Best thing we can do is push on.” She grinned and pushed herself off from the wall.

“Your knightly impulses are showing. I can think of five other things we could do.” My words died in my throat as she leaned in close to me. I could see her amber eyes glinting in the fading sun.

“Yeah, but I think this will be more fun,” she whispered into my ear before placing a warm kiss on my cheek and pulling back. “Sorry, I have to go. I can hear Arthur and Lance out there.”

She grinned, leaving me blushing against the wall. My eyes were glued to her as she left, her hips swaying in a manner that had nothing to do with her knightly training. She stepped out to the balcony, drew a training blade from storage, and then launched herself off the edge, hair flowing behind her like a war banner.