Chapter Seven

“You did what?” Ash whisper-yelled.

“Lower your voice,” Amaris hissed. They were back in the healer’s cottage. She was busy preparing the potion in the goblet they had brought, but Amaris didn’t want to take any chances. “I’m still not sure it was me. Maybe it was Sapienti.”

Ash gave her a doubtful look. “A Blessed Beast who was trying to keep you locked in its lair helped you? Sometimes you don’t act all that smart, princess.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not the point. I’m a non-power weaver. You know that, how could I do that? It makes no sense.”

“What if you’re not?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if you’re not a non-weaver? What if you’re just a late bloomer?”

“Ash, I’m seventeen. The latest case I’ve found was at fourteen. I can’t be.”

“That’s not true. Retta, a friend of mine, got her weaving at fifteen. Maybe yours is just starting to show now.”