The next day, the sound of chimes rang throughout the Reverie. It was time for our lessons. Bari and I raced to meet our sisters in the courtyard. When we got there, everyone was chattering as we took our places. Usually I’d be nervous about how they all would inevitably outshine me with their magic. But not today. Today I knew I wasn’t behind my sisters in magic. And the reason why I knew wasn’t there.
South usually sat in on every magic class even though he didn’t have magic. Today he wasn’t here because he’d been touched by mine. I longed to see him restored to his old self. The moth wings I’d given him must have left him overnight. But he must have been too mad or too embarrassed to share our company. And who was I to blame him?
“Why does he even bother?” Amantha had asked once.
“There is a value in knowing about magic even if you can’t wield it,” Galatea had said then.
Now Galatea looked around for him.
“Where’s South?” she demanded.
My other sisters tittered again.
“Very well, let’s begin without him.” Galatea’s voice was bright, but her eyes, as always, were haunted by the Pasts that she was constantly flooded with.
Hecate was stoic and stern, Iolanta was mad, and Galatea was simply beautiful and sad.
I asked her once, “Don’t you see the happy Pasts as much as the sad ones?”
“I’ve found that sad things form longer shadows than happy ones, I’m afraid.”
Galatea faced her Pasts as bravely as she could manage—dutifully trying to stay in the Present.
As usual, Galatea wore a dress that was made of seeds about to bud. Sometimes in the course of a day her whole dress would bloom. Today the dress was a pale green with seeds arranged in a tiny polka-dot pattern. Along the bodice, there were a few specks of white where the tiny flowers had begun to open to the morning sun. She surrounded herself with growing things—they helped her stay as grounded as possible in the now, while her mind was filled with the then.
Galatea also loved teaching us—because there was nothing more present than us in her mind. Children were more likely than adults not to be harping on things left behind.
Now she stood in front of us in the courtyard where we usually met for lessons with the rise of the sun.
“Fate turns in an instant . . . Fate turns on the tip of your wand . . . Fate is determined in seconds. In gusts of wind, in broken carriage spokes, in lost and returned gloves, in stolen moments and found ones. We create the moments. Sometimes we steal them. We shift destinies. It can be an arrow missing its mark or landing squarely in the center of a heart. We deal in small bits of magic. And the smallest infinitesimal magic can change the Queendoms. Never underestimate your power. Do not underestimate even an iota of magic. Don’t forget that the weight of the world rests on your wand.”
We stood a few feet apart in our dresses of gray, giving each of us room for our magic. Galatea stood before us, either showing us new spells or waiting for us to show her what we’d learned on our own. Today, she was focused on the latter. Each sister got up one by one and showed what her wand could do—what she could do.
Selina made a tree rise in the center of the garden with a large branch that lifted up Galatea like she was in the palm of its hand. Galatea laughed.
Tere made snow, which rained down as Selina lowered Galatea back to the ground.
Effie made her face that of a bear—and then roared, scaring us all except Galatea, who was not fazed by anything at all.
Amantha disappeared and reappeared with something concealed in her hand. “How far did you get this time?” Galatea asked, opening her hand to receive whatever Amantha had brought.
Amantha poured white sand from her hand into Galatea’s. Galatea reacted with a hum of pleasure as she surmised that the sand was from Tourlais, the Ninth Queendom.
“All the way to Tourlais. You’ll make it across all the Queendoms by the end of the year at this rate.”
Amantha beamed.
Sistine hummed a tune that made us laugh. Her magic was music that could turn a moment, change our mood, make us happy or angry.
Still reeling from my encounter with South, I tried to hide behind the others. If I was lucky, it would be time for lunch soon and I could get through this lesson unnoticed.
Meanwhile, Odette disappeared then reappeared with some freshly baked bread.
“What do you have for me today?” Galatea asked. “Is it a basketful of kisses or something else?”
“Something else,” Odette said with a broad smile.
“Ouch,” Galatea said as she chewed. She grabbed her knee. “How clever,” she added, lifting her skirt and revealing that the bread hadn’t just given her the feeling of a skinned knee; one had actually appeared on her body.
Odette clapped her hands together, her pride evident.
“However, I am not sure how practical . . . ,” Galatea began, deflating Odette’s moment.
Inflicting pain was not something that the sisters embraced no matter what the outcome. But Galatea seemed to weigh her choice, maybe because the pain itself was so minimal.
“Do you not teach us that a wound as small as a paper cut can change the course of a life?” Odette protested.
Galatea laughed.
“That is true. But work on a painless distraction next time. I’ve found that while the human response to fear is quite profound, we prefer to deal in more positive methods unless there is no other choice.”
Odette bowed her head. We all wanted to please Les Soeurs, and disappointing them stung.
The lesson was nearly over. I was already shuffling away, hoping to sneak out before I had to go.
“Not so fast . . . Now it’s your turn, Farrow.”
“Show us your new trick,” Amantha demanded. “I want to fly too.”
I felt my cheeks go warm. Of course they all knew.
“I would like to skip today,” I said, gulping some air after declaring this to Galatea.
“Magic does not skip a day.”
“Please, Galatea,” I said, my bottom lip trembling. I had disappointed all Les Soeurs and myself. And raising my wand again felt like I was opening myself up to doing it all over again. Or worse.
“Very well, but tomorrow I expect to see your wand back in the air.”
“Yes, Galatea,” I said.
Before she dismissed us, she said, “Remember what it is to be Entente. From what I have seen today, I feel that we have forgotten.”
She was talking about me and South—of course she knew. Either Hecate had told her or she had looked at my Past.
“There is no need for laughter. South not only belongs to us. He represents an opportunity to show empathy—a skill essential for our duty to the Queendoms.”
“Now—who are we?” she asked us as she had a million times before. And after each line she stopped and we followed her, our voices rising louder with every line. This was our creed.
We are the Entente.
We have no fathers or mothers—only sisters and The Three—
We are defenders of destiny.
Our hearts have no function other than to serve.
Our hearts do not beat for ourselves—our hearts beat for the Hinter.
We are the Entente . . . now and Ever After.
Saying the words gave me a sense of calm. But then a butterfly flew into the courtyard, and I was back in my misery again. The sight of wings made me think of South.
“Everyone, that’s it for the day. Farrow, stay,” Galatea said as she allowed the rest of my sisters to leave the courtyard.
I stepped forward and put her wand to my temple.
“What you said up there, that was about me, right? It’s my fault. See for yourself.”
Galatea took the other end of the wand and watched my Past.
“It matters that you did not intend to hurt him, Farrow.”
“It doesn’t matter to South.”
“It matters to you. It matters to who you are. Farrow, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but what I said up there, I was talking about me. I used to be the one with the small magic while Hecate and Iolanta far outpaced me. And then one day, just like you, I realized what I could do. You have to figure out what to do with it. Now that you have all that power, you have to figure out how to use it. And sometimes just a little bit goes a long way . . . Now, go.”
“Go where?”
“I don’t think it’s me that you need to be telling all this to.”