“Obviously.” The Chief Mage flipped a page in my file and scanned it. I gritted my teeth. “Had you shown any signs of magical aptitude before then?”
I frowned, thinking back. “I conjured some rainbow butterflies at my third birthday party,” I recalled. “My cousins thought it was the greatest thing they’d ever seen, and my mother nearly had a heart attack. None of my aunts ever brought their kids back to our house again.” My heart ached for the hurt and bewildered child I had been. Whether I liked it or not, she still lingered as a ghost in my heart, waiting in vain for someone to accept her.
“Were they real butterflies?”
I blinked. “Huh?”
The Chief Mage frowned impatiently at me. “Were they real butterflies, or just an illusion?”
“Oh, they were real,” I insisted. “I caught one in my hand and felt its wings fluttering against my palm.” Happiness burst through the ache of that memory, and I paused, surprised that I actually had a joyful memory of magic in the recesses of my mind.
The Chief Mage’s eyebrows arched. “At only age three? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Impressive,” he muttered, scanning my file again. Warmth filled my chest at the accidental compliment, but I pushed it down. “And yet you passed the test.”
I sighed. “I don’t understand it either.”
He studied me for a long time. “Your mother died when you were ten years old, correct?”
“Correct.” It had happened so long ago, and yet at the mention of it, I still remembered the way her hand had felt in mine, so weak and clammy as she’d drawn her last breaths. She’d been taken by a rare shifter disease that destroyed the immune system – a true tragedy, as she’d barely reached a hundred years of age, only a third of a shifter’s normal lifespan.
“And you were taken in by Shiftertown Inspector Tillmore after that?”
I cleared my throat. “Not right after. My aunt Mafiela kept me until I was thirteen. That was about as long as she could stand me before throwing me out in the streets. Roanas caught me stealing bread from a vendor in the town square, and took me in, instead of prosecuting me.”
As a general rule, I tried not to think about those nights I’d spent huddling in cardboard boxes in alleys, scrounging for food wherever I could and staying out of sight as much as possible. Even though I was a child, the other shifters had considered me taboo because of my hybrid status – they all knew that I was only half-shifter, even if they didn’t know I was half-mage rather than half-human. If my aunt Mafiela had chosen to keep me, things might’ve been different, but her throwing me out on the streets was a declaration to all that I was tainted, unworthy.
The Chief Mage’s eyes flickered. “Mafiela Baine… she is the matriarch of the Jaguar Clan, correct?”
I nodded.
“Did she know that your father was a mage when she revoked your status as a clan member?”
“I’m not sure.” I clenched my jaw on the lie. Much as I hated my aunt Mafiela, the fact that she hadn’t immediately reported my shifter-mage hybrid status to the Mage’s Guild was her saving grace. I couldn’t throw her under the train, at least not for this. Iannis stared silently at me for a long moment, and I wondered if he really could tell that I was lying.
“Being a hybrid and born out of wedlock were reason enough for her to give me the boot. She felt no particular loyalty toward me once my mother died.”
“Does Shiftertown not provide any sort of assistance to the needy?”
“Most of the taxes paid by everyone in this city go into your coffers,” I snapped. “What little money Shiftertown gets to keep is used for city maintenance.” The same went for Rowanville and Maintown.
The Chief Mage frowned. “Maintenance? The Mage’s Guild is in charge of civic upkeep. That is one of the reasons why we charge taxes to begin with.”
I laughed. “Yeah, well you ought to take a closer look and see where that money is actually going, because it’s sure not being used for city improvements or welfare.”
“I believe we are going off topic now.” The Chief Mage’s frown deepened. “So Inspector Tillmore took you in. Did he know about your magic?”
I sighed. “Roanas knew everything there was to know about me.” There was no point in hiding it, since he was dead. Grief smarted at my eyes, and I cleared my throat, blinking. The man had taught me everything I needed to know, and it was his recommendation that had gotten me into the Enforcer’s Guild in the first place. “He took me in when I was thirteen years old.”
“Despite your inability to control your magic?” The Chief Mage arched a brow. “A selfless act indeed.”
“Roanas taught me how to defend myself so my magic wouldn’t have to,” I growled. “And I was always safe when I was with him. He did the best he could.”
“I suppose so,” the Chief Mage murmured. His eyes narrowed as he studied me for a long moment, before he set the file aside.
“Hold out your hands.” He stepped toward me, his own hands outstretched.
A shiver rippled down my spine as I eyed him, a sense of déjà vu filling me. This was exactly what the other mages had done when they tested me, and even though I knew there was no harm in having it done again, since everyone in Solantha probably knew I was half-mage, it still made me nervous.
“Your hands,” the Chief Mage repeated, his voice tinged with impatience.