“Wait!” Ceilsea blurted out. Her mind cycled through things she hadn’t consciously thought about in a long time. When she was little, her parents quickly realized she didn’t have magic like her brother. However, they never realized she could feel it. Every spell, even a little strum, felt different. Surface level spells, like Vonae’s cleaning, felt like an annoyance, an uncomfortable layer of slime or silt on her skin. Spells on the surroundings felt like a pulsing, a pressing, a force, she struggled to ignore. And spells directly on her felt like worms and thorns digging into her flesh. No matter what it felt like, she hated it, and as far as she could tell, no one else felt magic the way she did.

Magic, also known as silent song, was poisonous to humans, but its residue was often invisible and undetectable. Without proper precautions, stagnant magic could sicken and even kill people. It couldn’t just be left to sit and gather. Wayzards, trained musicians, could dispel magic because it moved the same way as sound. Playing music disrupted the vibrations of magic and eliminated its residues and harmful effects.

Most wayzards were not able to tell what magic had been cast after the effects of the spell faded. Due to this, they memorized the songs that had been passed down through generations. Only the best wayzards could change their music to stop spells mid effect, but even they relied on traditional songs. This stranger had just perfectly dispelled the magic on her with only five notes.

“What?” Shaelis asked, clearly not finding anything out of the ordinary.

“You can feel magic,” Ceilsea stated.

“Yeah, you too?” Shaelis replied as if it was common knowledge.

“I’ve never met anyone else who could feel magic,” Ceilsea continued.

When she was young, she wasn’t resentful that she didn’t have the gift of silent song. She couldn’t imagine living with that invasive feeling all the time. She embraced her life outside of magic. Getting away from her family’s constant magic was part of what drove her to sculpting. Bringing images out of the stone gave her the joy she always assumed wizards felt casting. That’s why she had always felt faulty for finding magic repulsive.

“You’re not a wayzard?” Shaelis asked.

“No, I… sculpt.” She admitted, thinking that would give her identity away, but Shaelis continued unphased.

“Well, that’s probably why you’ve never met anyone else who could feel magic. If I were you, I’d keep sculpting, being a wayzard who can feel silent song is just asking for pain,” Shaelis commented, heading toward the bushes as if that ended the conversation.

“How do you know its… magic?” she asked, which probably sounded stupid, but it’s something she often asked herself when she questioned if her abilities were real.

“You just feel it, like hot and cold, and you recognize it as magic. Not everyone can feel it, but we can. Don’t think about it too hard,” they told her.

“I suppose it would give you an advantage in the tournament.”

“It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

Ceilsea’s eyes lingered on the stranger’s back. She couldn’t think of anything more to ask. It was strange that, after twenty-four years of living she finally found someone like her. However, it was obvious they couldn’t be more different. Like music and magic, they might travel the same wavelengths but not together.

Night had completely fallen, and Ceilsea could stall no longer. She left Shaelis to their business and replaced her tools in their stand. She headed back into the castle, to her bed. At least it was hers for a few more days. She was sure she would never see Shaelis again.

The next morning, Ceilsea woke to sunlight shining through her thin, tall window. She appreciated the carved stone around the windows. The rest of the room was covered in colorful, patterned hangings, rugs, and pottery. The pale stone of the window was simple and delicate; calm amidst chaos. After a few minutes of staring at the stonework, Ceilsea finally rose from her bed.

She took her time getting dressed. Heeding her brother’s warning, she made sure she was presentable today. Earlier in the morning, she'd received a summons to see the king after breakfast. Ceilsea knew his majesty often had trouble sleeping. He’d probably been sitting at his desk in the wee hours sending missives and handling business as if it was day. While others might have been abruptly summoned at his whims, his message to her had been gentle and patient.

In the note, he apologized for waking her and stated that she had been on his mind. He wished to speak to her about upcoming events. He set the time as mid-morning, which he knew was amicable to her normal sleep schedule, and told her to meet him in his private office away from the public eye. He treated her more like a daughter than a servant at his beck and call.

Ceilsea slowly took in her wardrobe. When she was not carving in her work clothes, what she would wear was always a puzzle. Because of her reputation, she was expected to appear as a princess or a noble, covered in beautifully colored and patterned layers of finery. In truth, she only had two outfits that matched the extravagance of the court. She had a handful of other mixed and matched pieces that she could rearrange to make ensembles that appeared rich in artistry, if not in quality. The Brijas family, in general, could afford to appear in a way that matched their station, as affluent commoners, but Ceilsea was held at a higher standard. Every day was a struggle to appear wealthier and more cultured than she actually was. The tournament, where she would constantly be in the public eye would only make that challenge harder.

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After a moment of consideration, she layered on some plain trousers, a mid-calf length tunic, and a short jacket, but chose an intricate sash as well as a good quality kaftan to wear over it all. She chose bright colored patterns all containing blue, pink, and green, because the King preferred the youthful glow it gave her. She buttoned the kaftan up to her chest and left the top open. Leaving some of the buttons undone gave her arms at least some range of motion, which was all she could ask for in this clothing. Finally, she wrapped her head with a veil. After dressing, she headed to the breakfast room.

As soon as she reached the dining room, Ceilsea immediately regretted not sleeping in.

“I’m sorry that I believed logic would prevail and you would be supportive by now!” Miennere, Ceilsea’s younger sister by almost eight years, stood over the dining table. She slammed her hands on the table in frustration. “Since it has not, I had to take action on my own!”

Ceilsea stayed on the opposite side of the table from her parents and her sister, finding a seat between Vonae and her younger brother, Yippinee. Yippinee was sliding lower into his chair, looking like he was trying to disappear, and Vonae was calmly eating. He would be dragged into this argument, but for now he was quiet.

“We did not forbid you from entering the tournament because we thought it would encourage you to rebel. We didn’t think you would actually go through with it,” their mother lamented with a sigh.

Ceilsea grabbed a pastry, pieces of cheese, and olives from the center of the table and began filling her mouth immediately so that she would not be called upon to speak.

“I told you I wanted to participate! What are you going to do, tell the king to order my name off of the roster?” Miennere had a small, shorter stature like Ceilsea, but she was much wirier from years of training with weapons and magic. She was dressed lightly with plain fabrics that Ceilsea envied. She could get away with wearing it though. Miennere was seen first as a wizard, not a woman.

“Of course not,” their father grumbled, not wanting to yell first thing in the morning. “However, you will not receive any support from your family. We told you that we did not want you to enter.”

“Vonae!” Miennere turned to her older brother and mentor and pleaded. Both Ceilsea and Yipinee tried to hide it, but they too glanced at Rivonae.

The eldest of the siblings took his time finishing his bite of cheese, leaving a moment of silence in the tense room. He swallowed and answered, “Don’t expect me to take your side. I won’t keep training you as long as you pursue this. I warned you weeks ago.”

“But you also said my swordwork was promising!” Miennere said.

“Which is exactly why I won’t support your campaign to throw your life away. You entered the tournament despite knowing we all disapproved. Now you have to live with the consequences.” Vonae leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“But…but someone has to since you’re not—”

“So, you’re protecting the family’s honor now?” Vonae snapped, moving his leg and jostling the empty hilt at his hip.

“No….”

“The family’s honor is fine,” Ceilsea broke in as she finished off an olive. Her actions had a greater effect on the family’s reputation. Her siblings should be able to do whatever they wanted without much consequence, Miennere included. Ceilsea continued, “Miennere, you’re going have to accept that if you want this, you will have to do it on your own. None of us should worry though, because you’re not going to win.”

“True,” Vonae breathed, relaxing slightly.

“So it’s settled,” Ceilsea concluded.

Tears burned in Miennere’s eyes as she glared at her sister. “I hate you,” she whispered with venom, and then rushed from the room.

There was silence in Miennere’s wake. Even as Yippinee sat straighter and their parent’s continued eating, there was still tension in the air. Each family member lost in their own thoughts on the situation. Ceilsea was musing about how she was almost grateful that Miennere was acting out. It meant her parents and Vonae would be paying attention to her. It would make Ceilsea’s escape easier. She tried not to think about all the trouble she would cause them when they realized she was gone.

Finishing the food she had taken, Ceilsea cleared her throat, “Excuse me, but I have to meet with his highness now.” That was a lie. It was too early, but she was not going to sit there in awkward silence. Her chair scraped against the stone floor as she stood.

“He probably wants to discuss your schedule for the week,” Ceilsea’s mother said, because she could never hold back from commenting on her children’s lives. “You must attend most of the major events. You won’t have as much time to work and laze as you usually would.”

“She knows, mother. She’s not opposed to attending social functions. She’s just not fond of them,” Vonae rebutted, coming to his sister’s rescue.

“I’ll certainly accommodate his desires as much as I can,” Ceilsea added, exiting without waiting for a reply.

Unlike her parents, the king would never ask for her presence only to talk about work or business. The king talked to Ceilsea to relax, and Ceilsea was happy to oblige most of the time. He would ask how she was doing or what inspiration had struck her that week. But he was a busy man so she could not take up too much of his time. As there was still time before their scheduled meeting, she had to find something else to entertain her.

She descended to her courtyard remembering the strange encounter from last night. Shaelis had said they would be gone before dawn, but she wondered if that was true. In the sunlight, the partially sculpted griffin looked even more unfinished and disappointing. She called out to Shaelis and looked around the shrubs, but all she saw was her stash of tools and supplies. They had already left. It was probably for the best, but she was disappointed for some reason. Rather than waste any more time on a stranger, she headed to the library to look at the maps to plan her escape while she waited to see the king.