Riftmender: The Bloodlender Trilogy, #3

By Zoe Perrenoud

All magic carries a cost... and the time has come to pay the ultimate price.

In the epic conclusion to Zoe Perrenoud's The Bloodlender Trilogy, Sophie finds herself caught between her father's dangerous schemes and a rising dark force that threatens to expose the Bloodlender community and shatter their peace forever.

As tensions rise, old grudges resurface, and the Gods demand their tribute, she and her friends must undertake a treacherous mission to safeguard their future and prevent a catastrophic war between science and magic.

Will Sophie embrace her purpose and rewrite the fate of her people before it's too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zoe Perrenoud
• Release date: May 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9789998789340

Book preview

Table of Contents

Riftmender (The Bloodlender Trilogy, #3)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

RIFTMENDER

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BOOK III OF THE BLOODLENDER TRILOGY

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Zoe Perrenoud

Riftmender

Print edition ISBN: 978_99987_893_5_7

E-book edition ISBN: 978_99987_893_4_0

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Copyright © 2023 Zoe Perrenoud. All rights reserved.

Cover design by Fay Lane.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organisations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of copyright law.

BY THE AUTHOR

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The Bloodlender Trilogy

Bloodlender

Timebender

Riftmender

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More Bloodlender Stories

The Watchmaker’s Daughter (read here for free)

Oathtaker (coming soon)

In loving memory of Veva

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Oathtaker

Acknowledgements

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

I didn’t know who I was anymore.

I still remembered my name, but whenever someone spoke it, I took a moment too long to respond. My body housed my mind like a wooden box might contain a pretty trinket, the two of them touching but disconnected in all the ways that mattered. If someone were to reach in and pluck out what was left of me, I wouldn’t be able to stop them. Wouldn’t know what to reach for and hang on to, or how to reel myself in. Wouldn’t even know what I was looking at. Those missing parts had existed once; I felt sure of it, but I couldn’t find the trail of breadcrumbs that would take me back home to them.

Invisible birds had pecked everything away.

Even my dreams made no sense. They stayed with me for a day, sometimes two, before succumbing to the inevitable void. The latest one had featured a boy with two faces. We’d been walking down a dimly lit tunnel, his name on the tip of my tongue, but his appearance had shifted the second I’d opened my mouth to ask. Green eyes to brown. Light hair to dark. His lips had moved in a silent question I didn’t have the answer to. My lack of response had seemed to bother him. He’d stalked to the end of the passageway, where he’d turned at the last moment to block my way. His looks had changed again. Green gaze burning with rage, he’d lunged for me and wrapped his hands around my neck.

‘Give up,’ he’d whispered in my ear. ‘We all need to make sacrifices, and it’s your turn now.’

I’d jerked awake to find my own fingers clawing at the base of my throat.

A flicker of movement outside snagged my attention and I wandered to the window.

Snow. A few flurries danced on the wind, swirling in the yellow glow of the streetlamp by the house opposite, reluctant to sink to the damp ground. Below, a steady trickle of strangers hurried along the pavements. Men and women in smart coats, their heads buried in tightly wound scarves. Tired parents herding their kids to school. The owner of the greengrocer’s next door, a pile of boxes in his arms. I thought about pounding on the glass to see what would happen. Would someone hear me over the din of the waking city? Would they care?

Fist raised, I paused.

What was it Papa had called me yesterday?

Dangerous.

He’d said more, but I couldn’t remember the details, and the not knowing gnawed at me from the inside. You wouldn’t want to hurt someone, would you? I retreated into the shadows and studied the slate-grey roofs instead. Smoke curled from several chimneys to melt the flakes before they could fall. A couple of months ago, a big wheel and several thrill rides had disrupted the skyline for a while, gleeful screams floating through the open window, but I hadn’t been allowed to go to the fair.

Or the shops.

Or even beyond the front door.

Strange, how that memory hadn’t faded, while so many others had.

A knock on the door snapped me out of my trance. Rita, cheerful as usual. ‘Sophie, are you awake?’

I mumbled that I was.

‘Breakfast is ready.’

‘I’m not hungry.’

A note of apology crept into her tone. ‘Your father’s moved your training session up. You should eat something.’

Ah yes. Training. The only thing I was allowed and encouraged to do that didn’t involve eating, sleeping, or staring listlessly out of the window. Every move and trick my father had shown me was etched into my muscle memory, even though I struggled to recall our discussions. He was teaching me to be a Bloodlender. A blood magician like himself, capable of sparking fire with the power running through my veins.

Dangerous, indeed.

I changed into a simple grey tracksuit and emerged into the corridor, feet clad in the trainers Rita had given me. She leaned against the wall, her knitted rainbow jumper at odds with her auburn hair, and smiled when our gazes met.

‘I can find the kitchen on my own,’ I muttered.

‘Of course you can, Maus, but I don’t mind waiting.’

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. She wasn’t unkind, on the contrary, but she was always there. Hovering with a cup of tea at the end of my training sessions. Chatting about the weather, her words laced with an accent I couldn’t place. Germanic, perhaps, but she spoke French with the confidence of a native. She owned a vast assortment of garish clothing, yet the lines around her dark brown eyes had me guessing she was in her fifties.

During our moments together, Rita talked and talked, but she never answered any of my questions. Because of that, and also because she was Papa’s friend, I couldn’t bring myself to trust her. The feeling must be mutual. Why else would she follow me around?

‘There’s fresh croissants,’ she said as she led the way into the kitchen and leaned in to kiss a surly-looking Gustav on the temple. Her husband grunted and curled his fingers around his cup of coffee. His waist-length black hair, threaded with grey, was tied back in a ponytail.

‘Morning,’ I said.

Another grunt. I sat and reached for a pastry. While I preferred Gustav’s silences to Rita’s monologues, something about the heaviness of his stare creeped me out. As if he’d been burdened with the world’s darkest secrets and let them fester beneath the surface, poisoning him from the inside.

‘Where’s...?’ I trailed off, hoping they wouldn’t notice. Speaking the words my dad out loud made me want to gag.

‘Waiting downstairs,’ Gustav muttered.

My turn to grumble. ‘Already? I don’t get it. We’ve been here for months and nothing bad’s happened. What’s he so paranoid about?’

Gustav and Rita shared a glance. ‘Your father’s just trying to keep you safe,’ Rita said. ‘He has his reasons.’

‘Which he won’t share with me.’ Or maybe he had and I couldn’t remember.

‘He’ll tell you when the time is right.’

‘And when do you think that’s going to be?’ I stared at them, but Rita’s cheeks turned pink and she picked at a thread on her jumper, while Gustav’s attention reverted to the depths of his coffee. ‘This is wrong, you know. You could get arrested for kidnapping.’

They could, but only if I worked up the courage to leave and report them. Dangerous, remember? The thought of setting foot outside made my heart thunder in my ears. How could I explain the situation to the police when I didn’t even understand it myself?

‘Sophie–’

‘Forget I said anything.’ Croissant in hand, I retrieved a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, which I downed in one big gulp. ‘Have a nice day.’

A quiet rage bubbled inside me on the way to the training room. Smooth, painted walls changed to rough stone as I descended the narrow staircase beneath the house. Shivering against the sudden chill, I tore chunks out of my croissant and forced myself to chew them. Every mouthful required more effort than I wanted to give, but Papa tended to forget about lunch. Not that I could recall the last time I’d enjoyed any of my food. Rita was a good cook, but to let myself savour it would amount to giving in. My father might take it to mean I’d accepted the situation, and I couldn’t have that.

Not until he told me what we were doing here.

‘You’re late,’ he called before I reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘Blood.’

I picked up a bowl on my way in and cradled it to my chest while I used the sharpened edge of a fingernail to nick the back of my arm. Dark red oozed from the cut with a swirling shimmer. Reaching out with my mind, I seized control of my blood before it could drip onto the floor. The next part was trickier and had resulted in several explosive splatters, during our first few sessions, but I’d got the hang of it by now. As if I were handling a ball of clay, I shaped the desired quantity of blood into a graceful sphere and floated it into the bowl.

‘Why does it matter if I’m late?’ I moved to the middle of the training space. ‘It’s not like we ever go anywhere.’

Papa stood by the shelves in the far corner, fiddling with his pocket watch, his own bowl of blood ready to go. ‘You need to take these sessions seriously, Sophie. They’re important.’

‘Why?’

‘Your physical fitness has improved, but your control over your powers is still questionable. You might be able to access the full breadth of your magic, but you hardly have a clue how to use it.’

And whose fault is that? He’d disappeared, leaving me to grieve him for years before he’d turned up again without an explanation. Now, instead of mending our broken bond, he made me bleed into a bowl so he could push me to the darkest depths of my being through gruelling exercises and twisted mind games. Anger, fear, sadness... I did what I could to control them, but he always found a way to get under my skin.

Nothing I did was good enough, no matter how hard I tried to please him.

‘That doesn’t explain what we’re doing in this house,’ I snapped. ‘Can’t we get a place of our own?’

‘Soon.’

‘Are we even still in France?’

My father’s mouth twitched. ‘We’re safe. It’s the only thing that matters.’

‘So everyone keeps saying. But there’s nothing–’

‘Do you know what I went through to get you here, after the fire?’

The fire? Something fluttered in the depths of my memory, like a moth evading my grasp. Such stirrings usually turned into headaches, but I crossed my arms and forced myself to look Papa in the eye. ‘What are you talking about?’

He sighed, as if tired of the discussion already. ‘The day you discovered your powers. You don’t remember?’

‘I remember Vichy. I had a life there. I–’

Oh. The fire.

My fault.

Well, not all my fault, but the details didn’t matter now. With a groan of protest, my mind tried to fill in the blanks, conjuring a vision of my mother in the middle of our old kitchen. Crimson flames crackled in a deadly circle around her, bathing her face in a red glow. She opened and closed her mouth around nothing, her words smothered by the rising smoke. Heat licked at her feet, her hands, her hair, as if to erase her, and her eyes turned wild with pain. Her panicked gaze darted around the room, unable to find me, and then... nothing.

My hand flew to my mouth. ‘I–I didn’t mean to do it. I–’

‘I know.’

‘But Maman...’

Papa shook his head and looked away. I gaped at him and braced myself for grief to stab me through the heart, but... again, nothing. Or rather, a tired kind of sadness, as if I’d gone through the motions before and my body had nothing left to offer. You knew. You might have forgotten, but deep down, you knew about this.

‘How did–’

‘You fell and hit your head,’ Papa said before I could finish. ‘The fire brigade found you just in time.’

Huh. That might explain the memory problems. A traumatic event, a bad fall, the loss of my mother... but instead of prompting a flurry of answers, the revelation left me feeling hollow. Shouldn’t he take me to see a doctor, if the damage was that bad?

‘I’d been keeping an eye on you and your mother from afar, in case anything like this happened,’ he continued. ‘I came as soon as I heard.’

‘Where were you before?’

‘In hiding.’ Papa hesitated for a moment. ‘The Vessel were after me. It wasn’t safe to contact you.’

‘The Vessel?’ Another flutter, fainter this time. No images. ‘What’s that?’

‘An organisation of Bloodlenders.’ His gaze turned to steel when I lifted my head, hope flaring in my chest. ‘They can’t be trusted, Sophie. They’re the ones who tried to kill you.’

My stomach dropped. ‘Someone tried to kill me?’

‘In the hospital, after the fire. It’s a miracle I got you out in time.’

‘Why? What did I ever do to them?’

‘You’re special,’ my father said quietly. ‘Special in a way that makes you dangerous. You aren’t bound to the Gods like the rest of us. The Vessel are afraid of what you might do.’

Dangerous. There it was again. I thought of Maman and swallowed hard. ‘And what’s that, exactly?’

‘Anything you want.’ His tone remained light, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story. ‘Anything at all.’

Really? Butterflies invaded my gut. ‘Does that mean I can walk out of here? Go back to Vichy? See Tante Adèle and–’

‘NO!’

The word boomed around the basement, making my ears ring. Cheeks flushed red, Papa squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath while I stared at him in shock. Looks like you’re not the only one struggling today.

‘No, Sophie,’ he added after a moment. ‘The Vessel are watching. They haven’t harmed Adèle and her family... yet. The best way to keep our loved ones safe is to stay away from them.’

‘But they’ll be worried!’

‘No.’ His tone evened out and the colour faded from his face. ‘They won’t.’

Everything inside me went quiet. ‘W-what do you mean? What did you do?’

‘What I had to.’

I waited, frozen in place.

Papa sighed. ‘As far as they know, you died from your injuries shortly after the fire.’

No. Head shaking, I stumbled backwards, one hand reaching blindly for the wall. But the kids... I pictured their little faces, happy as they always were whenever I told them a story. Tears tracked down my cheeks, hot and heavy. This was cruel. They wouldn’t understand. If he meant it when he said I could do anything, then–

‘You’re powerful,’ Papa said firmly, ‘but you’re not invincible. If the Vessel catch you, they’ll kill you before you can spark a single flame.’

‘Then what?’ I spat the word out, hating the helpless panic that pulsed through my body. ‘What do we do? Keep hiding for the rest of our lives? I don’t want to live like that! This place is driving me insane!’

‘I’m working on a solution. I–’

‘No.’ My hands curled into fists. ‘I’m done here. I’d rather take my chances with this Vessel.’

Pent-up fire roared in my bloodstream. I whirled and stalked off towards the stairs, but months of training had honed my senses, no matter how little Papa appreciated my efforts. My ears picked up a faint rustle, followed by a brief crackle of fire. I ducked a second before his flames scorched the air above my head.

‘Hey!’ I yelped. ‘You can’t–’

Another tongue of heat lashed at my right side. I threw myself in the opposite direction and reached with my mind for the blood in my bowl, but he attacked again and all I could do was dodge out of the way. A spark hit my cheek with a fierce sting that didn’t fade when I brushed at it with my sleeve.

My father smirked. ‘You were saying?’

‘Stop it!’

‘No.’

‘You’re my dad. You’re not supposed to hurt me!’

‘I’m hardly trying. Do you think the Vessel will pull their punches when they catch you?’

I lunged sideways and rolled towards the wall, dodging several fireballs. Rage boiled in the pit of my stomach. Don’t listen to him. You can’t afford to lose control again. I sucked in a breath and sent a shower of flaming drops in his direction.

They didn’t even make it close enough to warm his face.

Papa scoffed. ‘Is that all you’ve got? You won’t survive two minutes on your own, if you can’t do better than that.’

Teeth clenched, I crouched into the defensive stance he’d taught me. ‘I might stand a chance if you stopped lying to me!’

‘What have I lied about?’ He stepped aside to avoid the trail of bloody fire I sent towards his feet. ‘The life of a Bloodlender is hard, even more so when you’re a Rogue.’

‘That’s your thing!’ I pushed myself away from the wall right before his next attack blew a fist-sized dent in the raw stone surface. Damn. Gustav hated it when we left marks. ‘I didn’t choose any of this!’

‘No, you didn’t.’ Papa lowered his tone and looked me straight in the eye. ‘But until you can prove to me you can look after yourself, I’ll be making the decisions here.’

Heat hissed through my veins, seeking an outlet. I brushed aside a strand of damp hair and squared my shoulders. Two could play this game, if that was what he wanted.

‘I looked after myself just fine when you abandoned us.’

But you failed to look after Maman. You promised him you’d watch over her, and instead you... Fire whipped at my shoulder, close enough to burn through my jumper. I bit down a cry and pushed, breaking what remained of my blood into the tiniest possible droplets. Waving my hands in a series of nonsensical gestures to distract him, I sent the crimson mist across the room and let it settle on Papa’s feet.

‘See?’ he scoffed. ‘This is exactly what I’m talking about. You have no form, no–’

A sudden burst of flames cut him off. He jumped back and swore, shock flashing over his features, before he had the good sense to kick his shoes off.

‘See?’ I mimicked his tone as I let my magic singe the leather beyond repair. ‘I’m not completely helpless after all.’

My father muttered something unintelligible and studied his ruined shoes. ‘I never said you were.’ I stared at him, one brow raised, until he took notice and sighed. ‘This hasn’t been easy for me either, Sophie. There were times I never thought I’d see you again.’

‘At least you knew I was alive.’

His shoulders sagged. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the truth.’

‘Are you?’

‘Every moment of every day.’

Some of the fire inside me sputtered and died as I noted the lines around his eyes and the streaks of grey in his hair. The weariness etched into his features, shadowed by quiet determination. And underneath, the pain he tried so hard to hide from me.

I softened my tone as much as I could. ‘There’s got to be a better solution, Papa. I feel like we’re living in limbo.’

‘Like I said, I’m working on it.’

‘Then let me help.’

He opened his mouth, ready to say no, but I stared back with wide, pleading eyes. The most recent parts of me might be lost, but I had no trouble reaching for the little girl he remembered from our happier days together. She’d made a nest in the darkest corner of the training room, where she could hide while she studied this man we barely recognised.

His lips twitched. ‘You’re incorrigible.’

‘And that’s why you love me.’

The words tasted like ash on my tongue, but I smiled and waited for him to mirror the gesture. He did so tentatively – there one second, gone the next – and picked up his shoes. I helped myself to the special salve we kept in a pot by the door and dabbed it onto the burns I’d sustained to my cheek and shoulder. My magic could heal any wound I inflicted upon myself, but not the injuries caused by the fire of another Bloodlender. Fortunately, Rita’s salve always took care of those within a few hours.

‘How’s your memory doing these days?’ Papa’s sudden question caught me by surprise. ‘Have you had any more hallucinations?’

I stilled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Any nightmares? Thoughts that don’t make sense?’

Yes. ‘Not really.’ I shrugged. ‘But I had a weird dream about a boy with two faces last night. He talked about making sacrifices.’

‘What kinds of sacrifices?’

‘I don’t know. We were in this tunnel and–’

‘Oh, Sophie.’

Before I realised what was happening, Papa pulled me into a tight hug. My blood surged in protest, prickling as if a colony of ants had entered my veins. He hadn’t held me like this in years. The little girl in the corner wanted me to let go and bask in his warmth, but my muscles refused to relax. Stunned, I barely noticed when his hand slipped into his pocket.

Silver flashed in the dim light.

‘What–’

His favourite watch dangled from his fingers. An odd kind of fear surged through my limbs at the sight of it. A terrible sense of déjà vu. I pushed Papa away, but he was already winding the tiny knob.

‘See?’ he said as my thoughts started spinning in time with the watch’s needles. ‘You’re not ready, Sophie. Not yet.’

The fire. My mother. The Vessel. All the details of our conversation swirled into a muddy vortex. My mind tried to cling to the dregs of what I’d learned, but the current was too strong. Papa caught me the second my legs buckled, as if he’d been expecting it. I slumped against him, unable to speak. Unable to claw back the memories spinning beyond my reach.

Unable to remember...

‘I hate to keep doing this, my darling, but I’m not going to fail you again,’ he muttered as he lowered me to the ground. ‘I’m going to save you, no matter what it takes.’

CHAPTER TWO

I wallowed in darkness, content, until a persistent pounding dragged me back to reality.

My pulse, perhaps, hammering on the inside of my skull, or someone doing home improvements next door. Hard to tell. A strange taste lingered on my tongue, as if I’d been fed raspberry-flavoured sweets in my sleep. Swallowing hard, I sat up and groaned when the room swam. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dreary daylight filtering through the window.

‘Oh good, you’re awake.’

A flash of colour to my right had me pressing my nails into the flesh of my wrist before I recognised the figure in the familiar bright jumper.

‘You scared me,’ I croaked. ‘What happened?’

Rita handed me a mug of her favourite herbal tea. ‘You fainted during training.’

‘Again?’

‘We told Raphaël to go easier on you, but it seems you two have a lot of... drama... to work through.’

‘That’s a mild way to put it.’ I winced and rubbed my forehead. ‘Ugh, I could sleep for days.’ My legs felt as heavy as lead, pinning me to the mattress.

‘The tea will help.’ Rita waited until I’d had a sip before she lowered her voice. ‘We don’t know each other well, and it may not be my place to say anything, but I’m worried about you, Sophie. Wouldn’t it be easier to give your father what he wants, so he might relax and give you some space?’

Space. Was that what I needed? Would it give me back the parts of me that were missing? We’d talked during training, but I couldn’t remember about what. All I could recall were the vicious attacks we’d made on each other and the lack of trust in his eyes. I’d disappointed him again. ‘I don’t know what he wants.’

‘The same as any parent. A minimum of respect and a sense of control over the situation.’

Ha. Good luck with that. ‘Do you and Gustav have kids?’

Shadows crowded Rita’s gaze. ‘No. I always wanted them, but Gustav...’ She shook her head. ‘He didn’t want any of our children to end up like him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He suffers from depression, like his mother before him. It can take a nasty toll when combined with Bloodlending.’

The fire lying dormant in my veins stirred according to my moods. It wasn’t hard to imagine the damage it might cause when fuelled by a constant stream of dark thoughts.

‘When I realised he wasn’t going to change his mind,’ Rita continued, ‘I had to ask myself if I could live without him. Ultimately, the answer was no, so I’ve made my peace with it.’ She breathed a gentle sigh. ‘Don’t let your tea go cold.’

I took another sip. Oddly enough, the drink’s sweet flavour did seem to chase the sluggishness from my body, making it easier to move. I glanced out of the window at the darkening sky. I must have slept all afternoon. ‘I might respect Papa more if he told me what he was planning.’

‘If it’s any consolation, he hasn’t said much to us either.’

‘But you let him stay?’

‘Raphaël has helped Gustav several times over the years. His watches...’ Rita paused and eyed the open door. Here we go. I waited for her to drop the subject and leave, but she shut the door and returned to perch on the covers beside me. ‘How much do you know about your father’s work?’

Judging by the guarded look on her face, the question wasn’t about the technical process of assembling watches. Shame, because I could have put one together in my sleep. I tried to cast my mind further but found myself wading through mud. ‘I’m guessing he uses his powers somehow?’

She nodded. ‘His special talent.’

Special talent? Papa hadn’t said anything about that. ‘So what he’s making me do downstairs is...?’ A waste of time, I almost said, but I didn’t want to put her off talking.

‘Brutal and basic, but useful.’ Another sigh escaped her lips. ‘Though it seems unfair to keep you in the dark about the finer points of Bloodlending.’

‘Which are?’

She fiddled with the hem of her jumper. ‘The ability to tap into your natural resources. Some describe it as leaning into your passions, but I’ve found that’s not entirely true. Any part of your being, positive or negative, can be drawn upon to influence your magic.’

My hands twisted together on top of the sheets. ‘I feel like I should know what that means, but...’

‘Do you have any interests that define who you are as a person?’

I frowned, ready to say no, but something made me pause. An unwavering certainty, anchored deep inside me. ‘I love reading. Writing, too.’

Rita’s expression brightened. ‘Why didn’t you say so earlier? Gustav has a nice collection of books in his study. I’ll ask him if you can borrow some.’

‘I forgot.’ Such a thing seemed impossible, now that the knowledge sat so firmly within me, and yet... ‘Do you think I could have a notebook, too?’ I might have an easier time remembering things if I wrote them down.

‘That shouldn’t be a problem.’

‘Are you going to tell my dad?’

Rita shook her head. ‘I don’t see why he would need to know.’

A warm feeling spread through my chest. ‘What’s your special talent?’

‘I’m an optimist at heart, have been since I was a child. Comforting others is what I do best.’ Her lips tilted into a reserved smile and she pointed to my drink. ‘I only use my gift in small doses. Just enough to lift someone’s mood when they need it.’

I stared, round-eyed, into the depths of the mug. ‘You mean, there’s blood in my tea?’

‘A drop or two.’

Scrunching my nose, I waited for nausea to hit, but nothing about the taste or smell of the drink had betrayed the presence of her magic. ‘I wish you’d told me earlier.’

‘Would you have drunk it?’

‘Probably not. No offence.’

‘None taken.’ Rita picked up the empty mug. ‘Although you’ll need all the strength you can muster to keep up with your father.’

I stared at the tiny marks all over my hands, relics of the cuts I must have made before I’d learned to heal myself with magic. A bigger scar sat in the crook of my right elbow, jagged and faded, but I avoided looking at it for any length of time. The sight made my stomach clench and my eyes prickle.

‘Where is he now?’

Papa never spent any time with me after our sessions. Most days, he locked himself in Gustav’s study to do research, but about what, he wouldn’t say. Occasionally, he spent an hour or two with Rita, reminiscing about people I didn’t know and places I’d never been. I should have been curious – they often talked about other Bloodlenders – but the few conversations I’d overheard had sounded pretty dull.

‘Out.’ Rita’s gaze flicked to the window. ‘He had an errand to run in the city.’

‘What sort of errand?’

‘He didn’t specify.’

But you suspect something, don’t you? Whatever it was, Rita didn’t seem happy about it. She smoothed the front of her jumper and nodded once, as if she’d reached some sort of private conclusion. ‘I could talk to him tonight, if you like. Ask if he would let you out for a few hours, if one of us goes with you.’

‘You’d do that for me?’

‘I can’t promise miracles, but I’ll try.’ She stood and flexed her fingers, like I did sometimes when the buzz in my veins grew too strong. ‘Think about what I said, Sophie. Giving your father a little of what he wants might help you more than you think.’

The urge to argue burned my tongue, but I kept silent and nodded.

‘Try to get some rest now. You’ll feel better in the morning.’

I huddled under the covers and closed my eyes, drifting back to sleep for a few hours until the last of the fog lifted from my brain. When I awoke again, I found a pile of novels along with a notebook and pen on my bedside table. A grin split my face, tugging at muscles I hadn’t used in months. I threw back the covers and stretched