Magic.

  Magic was different for everyone.

  My father's magic, for example, expressed itself as control over the dominion of plants, flowers, vines and the like. While that might not have seemed so impressive to some, a thorned whip reinforced with magic could cut through steel.

  "Or flesh. As easily as waving your hand through the air."

  The scholars of magic were, of course, deeply interested in understanding why and how magic operated. If it could be discovered why everyone's magic presented the way it did, then it might be possible to induce change in how one's magic manifests or deliberately force a certain manifestation in a given child.

  "Because the wrong magic, in the wrong child, is of no use to people like my father."

  It was through their study they discovered that in many ways, everyone's magic was more alike than previously realized. Magic is present everywhere, at some level. What makes someone a magician is the ability to refine the magic in our breath, align the magical particles to our own aspects, and then exhale any mana-infused air that wasn't absorbed by our bodies. The more efficient the refinement, the stronger the magician. The more practiced the magician, the less mana is wasted in exhalation.

  "Magical particles. What were they called, again? Magicules? Magicles?"

  Of course, this meant that every magician operates under the same crucial flaw: if they cannot breathe, they cannot perform magic except by using the small amount of magic that was stored in their body already. No vines. No fireballs.

  If, for example, you wanted to hurt someone with a powerful self-healing magic, you would simply need to choke them while you did it. Even if their stored reserves didn't let them die, you could certainly scar them for a good while.

  ---

  I woke up on the floor of my father's office, covered in dried blood.

  "Not dead this time, either. Unless this is already hell."

  Shaking, I slowly stood up, gathered my shoes, and trudged back to my room. I didn't see a single soul the entire way; all the servants were either asleep in their quarters or hiding in their side-passages to avoid being seen by me.

  A candle was lit in my quarters. When I entered, Erika stood up and rushed to hug me, her arms naturally placing themselves above and below the raw, red surface of my back.

  "I was so worried when you didn't go to dinner. Are you okay?"

  "Erika, I... I..."

  But I couldn't say that I was okay. The room began to grow thick with magic as I lost control of my breathing again, the wounds on my back burning as I heaved sobs into Erika's chest. More gentle tugging slowly guided me towards the bath, now long cold, and Erika cleaned me up as best she could. By the time I laid down in bed her maid dress was soaked through from holding me, and I curled up into a ball, pressing against her for any sort of comfort. Her fingers were running through the length of my hair as I sobbed myself to sleep.

  "I miss mom."

  I couldn't see her face, but I thought from the deep rise and fall of her chest that she did, too.

  ---

  Dinner the following evening was a single piece of fresh bread and a thin broth. I tried not looking at the other plates on the table, but the smell of fresh meat pies and vegetables dressed in rich sauces was unavoidable.

  "You'll have to excuse dear Sophia for missing dinner yesterday; she took a nasty fall and is feeling weak. She can't stomach anything too flavorful right now."

  My father was, of course, not going to allow me to use the excuse of guests to eat anything he deemed me unworthy of. Duke Hiems, seated at a place of honor to my Father's right, nodded solemnly, reaching next to him to grasp his wife's hand.

  "A shame, that. This pie is just what a growing lady like her needs. Be sure to eat as much as you can, Sophia, once you recover. Men don't like a woman who's too frail, and you're practically a twig."

  "Ah, isn't her coming of age in spring, Harry? She looks too dreadfully thin to be going here and there in a carriage."

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  While Duke Printemps grumbled once more about the all-too-casual form of address, Duchess Hiems' eyes measured me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. She hadn't shown me much, or any, regard on the day that they had arrived, but her son had been wearing the shoulder cape I had gifted him since he had recieved it, and she had taken notice of this obvious interest.

  "Well, yes. I suppose it is around that time. There's all of winter before we have to think about that, though." Duke Printemps stroked his beard, staring hard across the table at the empty Duchess Printemps' seat.

  Adrian had not stopped staring at me the entire time, giving me a look of amusement. "How interesting..." he muttered under his breath, just loud enough that I barely caught it. I shuddered, not wanting to know what had interested him.

  It was clear to me that, after he had let me fall, it had taken some time for my magic to begin working on repairing the damage. From his perspective he must have seen me, for all appearances, fall and die right in front of him. But he had said nothing, told no one, and offered no help. I wanted nothing to do with him after all that, but unfortunately, it seemed the event had somehow drawn him to me.

  The snow white lady was not at the table.

  I felt a sharp pain in my foot, and suppressed a yelp to avoid drawing my father's ire. Agnes, sitting next to me, had jammed me with her heel. "What did you do to Adrian?" she hissed in my ear, too low for anyone else to hear. "I thought I had given you enough warning that he's mine."

  "You can have him! He's crazy as hell!" I thought to myself, wishing dearly that I could shout at her. If I could have waved my hand and made all of his attention turn from me and onto her, I would have done it gladly. But I couldn't.

  Agnes' heel dug deeper, but she didn't say anything more. That's how the meal continued until, finally, the Hiems family excused themselves, leaving just the Printemps and me at the table.

  "Sophia."

  I sat bolt upright in my chair, lifting my gaze from my lap to look Duke Printemps' in the eye. Hugo and Agnes watched with rapt attention, hoping that some punishment was forthcoming, while William sat in silence and disinterest to wait for a polite moment to resume eating.

  "I trust that you have learned your lesson from last night."

  I nodded.

  "It seems that the Hiems' boy might see you fit for courtship."

  I didn't know what to say to that. I knew that, in an ideal world, this would be happy news. A courtship meant a chance at engagement, and an engagement meant a chance at marriage. A marriage would allow me to take Erika away from this place, where she could live happily. But somehow, a courtship with Adrian seemed like the worst thing that could happen right now.

  "You're not fit for marriage at this moment; you've no useful skills, no talent for bookkeeping, and your magic has no value as a wife. This winter, I'll be sending you to a remedial academy. In the spring, when you come of age, we will send you directly to the Hiems' family, where you will impress them once again. Do you understand?"

  I nodded to show that I understood. Although the end goal, marriage to Adrian, sounded awful, the academy was another way out of this house, even if only for a little while. Maybe, if I showed even half of the talent that Erika had, I could find someone to be my patron and I could become a scholar instead.

  A twinge of guilt twisted in my heart. "Erika."

  "Duke Printemps," I began, drawing an immediate glare from my father that felt like it threatened to crush me on the spot. "Would it be possible to take my personal maid with me to the academy?"

  The silence in the room was palpable. Duke Printemps' looked liable to explode in fury, when the sound of silverware broke the quiet. Williams took the last few bites of his meal before standing up, drawing a baleful look from his father. "It would look rather disgraceful of us for a Printemps' not to have a servant," he said in a disinterested tone before excusing himself to begin his evening lessons.

  After he left, the energy in the room dissipated, and Duke Printemps also stood up to leave. "Presuming you do not err again, you may take her. Maybe it will incentivize you to be less of a disgrace."

  And now I was alone in the room with Agnes and Hugo. I quickly stood up to make my own exit, but Agnes' heel caught the edge of my dress as I turned to leave, and I fell to the floor. "Hugo, break a finger or two. This mutt needs to learn."

  I didn't intend to "learn" anything more any time soon, so I reached back and grabbed a fistful of dress and yanked hard, ripping the hem free of her heel before standing up to enter a full sprint. I was there just long enough to hear Hugo ask Agnes how much she would pay him to chase me, and slammed the dining room door shut right as a thrown shoe struck it instead of me.

  Not knowing if Agnes would take Hugo up on his offer, I kept running. Out into the main hall, out the front door, out of the main yard and into the garden. I had, once again, kicked off my heels at some point during the run, and now dimly noticed that my feet felt raw from running across the hard floors and ground.

  There was a time that the bottom of my feet had enough callouses on them to climb trees, but now a ladies' soft skin had been cut out from underneath them. I looked down at my soft hands, the all-too-frilly dress, and my thin twiggy arms devoid of muscle. I heaved, as if to cry, but screamed instead, dropping to the ground and beating it with my fist in frustration. I gripped a handful of garden flowers and ripped them out, unable to bear the sight of them, before immediately feeling regret.

  Erika liked these flowers, but servants weren't allowed to just visit the gardens like this. If she wasn't there to tend them, she wasn't there at all. "All of these things. I have to like them for her, or else what was the point of me taking them from her," I thought to myself, taking deep breaths to calm myself down.

  My magic was a roiling mess again, billowing out in waves with every breath. There was nothing I hated more than that damned magic, except maybe myself for having it.

  Deep breaths. Deep breaths to calm myself, and while I took those breaths I let myself hear the autumn wind rustling through the trees. I let myself feel the pleasure of the grass and dirt beneath my toes. I let myself see the beautiful stars, and the bright moonlight. I looked up at the pale moon and then slowly lowered my gaze down to lock eyes with the snow white lady.

  Who was standing there, holding her parasol, cloaked in the scent of magic.