CHAPTER 
18
But they appeared no different. She stared at her hands in puzzlement. When she closed her hands, her knuckles protested. She opened and closed her hands a few more times. The discomfort went away rather rapidly, leaving her bewildered.
What is the matter? asked the prince from where he lay, his voice rough with sleep.
Youre awake. How is your head? Want me to find you some breakfast?
No breakfast, thank you. And my head is terrible, but that is par for the course. What is the matter with you?
Im not sure. My hands hurt a minute ago, but not anymore. Is it a side effect of transmogrification?
No, but it might be a side effect of your breaking the otherwise spell, though.
What otherwise spell?
The one that was laid on you earlier, to make you believe you couldnt manipulate air.
Maybe I was just late developing it.
He shook his head. I read your guardians letter to you and
She cocked a brow. She had never offered him the letter to read.
Well, you already know I am unscrupulous.
She sighed. Go on.
These are his exact words. I cant help but wonder how your power would have manifested itself. By causing the Delamer River to flow in reverse? Or shearing the air of a sunny day into a cyclone? Which tells me that you did have power over air as a toddler.
But I thought you couldnt apply an otherwise spell when the subject already knows about something.
Power over air is the easiest to disguise. You cannot explain away the sudden appearance of fire or water, or stones flying off a wall. But movement of air can always be blamed on a breeze from the window. And this way he could pass you off as an elemental mage IIImuch less noticeable.
I still dont see why my hands should hurt now, after I broke through the otherwise spell, if thats what it was.
Do something with air. Make the curtain flutter.
She tried, but the curtain moved only the tiniest bit. I dont understand. I swung the entire chandelier last night.
Now you are no longer in the midst of extraordinary circumstances. An otherwise spell is not easy to cast off completely, when it has controlled you for so long. But you are already much further along than you used to bethe pain is likely a physical manifestation of the potential you have unlocked struggling against what is left of the otherwise spell.
She tried again to flutter the curtain; the result was not much more impressive. It was disheartening. Shed thought her control over air would be easy and absolute from this point onward. So what do I do now?
Train harder. All of elemental magic is mind over matter. You must keep pushing yourself. He sat up and winced in pain. We all must keep pushing ourselves.
Mrs. Hancocks smile was as pleasant as ever, her day dress as brown and sacklike. Your Highness, if you would follow me to my parlor.
Titus braced a hand on the banistershe had caught him as he was going up the stairs. What is it with you Atlanteans? Can you not see I have a pounding headache?
He was not lying: the inside of his skull felt like a nonmage demolition,all crowbars and sledgehammers. He was also feeble from hunger, having had nothing more than a cup of tea since his Inquisition.
I wouldnt dream of disturbing Your Highness unless it was of vital importance, said Mrs. Hancock serenely.
Who wants to see me?
The Acting Inquisitor, sir.
Who the hell is the Acting Inquisitor?
His name is Baslan.
Baslan was not usually referred to as Acting Inquisitor, but as vice-proconsul or something of the sort. Titus rubbed his temples. Is the Master of the Domain not important enough for the Banes lackey now? I have to see the lackeys lackey?
You are ever so gracious, Your Highness, murmured Mrs. Hancock, as she reached out and straightened a frame of embroidered iris that had been knocked askew by a careless boy.
She led the way to an austere parlor of bare floor
and unpadded chairs, and not a petal or stem of the printed flowers beloved by Mrs. Dawlish. Baslans spectral imagea piece of Atlantean magic that the Domains archmages had yet to duplicatepaced in Mrs. Hancocks parlor, heedless of walls and furniture.
He snapped to at Tituss entrance. Titus plopped himself into the nearest seat and shaded his eyes with his handthe sunlight streaming in from Mrs. Hancocks window burned like acid on his retinas. What do you want?
I need an account of Your Highnesss actions last night inside the Inquisition chamber.
A question that did not involve Miss Buttercup in any conceivable manner was not one Titus had expected. My actions? Bleeding from all major orifices and suffering horrific damage to my vision, my hearing, and my cognitive abilities.
You seem remarkably healthy for all the inflictions you listed, said Baslan.
Titus coughed. He turned his face to the side and spat blood all over Mrs. Hancocks skirtsa good trick if he did say so himself. Mrs. Hancock squealedat last a genuine reactionand waved her wand madly to get rid of the stains.
He glared at Baslan. What did you say?