SINDRED

Back in the training room, Aurelius tries to explain the same thing to me for possibly the hundredth time: "Feel the difference in color, in texture, in weight. It is not enough to imagine your own reflection altered, you have to feel it."

"I know," I say, sighing. "I understand. It's just… It's hard. It is easier to imagine how it feels to be a cat, or a spider, than it is another version of myself. I know that makes no sense." I rub my face with my hands.

"This is not a shapeshifting lesson. That's not something I can teach you. Try again. This is the most basic of glamour. I know you have the ability. Try to feel, Sindred."

I close my eyes, sit up straight. I focus on my body, on the way my legs press into the ground, the way my bones fit together, my hair tickles against the skin of my face and shoulders. I feel my breath, my heartbeat, the slight ache in my skull. I picture what I must look like, lips and cheeks flushed pink against the white of my skin, forehead furrowed in concentration, skinny limbs sharp at the knees and elbows. I picture the silvery irises of my eyes, the opalescent shimmer that's started to show through the yellow hair dye. Like moonlight on snow. Like drops of water on glass. Like a cloud dancing across a starry night sky, weightless, pulled by the tug of the wind. Just a wisp of white in the vastness, so easily swept away into nothing. Nothing. Just a ghost, a pale shadow. Why change the way I look when I'm not worth anyone's notice? When I might as well not exist at all?

I open my eyes, ready to tell Aurelius I give up on this lesson.

Aurelius is staring at me, eyes narrowed in confusion. No, not staring at me. Staring through me. He blinks, shakes his head.

"Aurelius?"

"What? Who-?" His face drains of color as he looks around the room, as if there's someone else here. An intruder? I've never seen the stoic man so nervous and jumpy.

"What's going on?" I ask, looking around myself. I see nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe Aurelius heard something while I was lost in my head.

Aurelius doesn't respond to my question. He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he looks right at me. "Sindred?"

"Is something wrong?" I squeak.

"What did you do?" I can't tell if he's angry or afraid. "Were you in my head? What did you do to me?"

"I didn't do anything!" Did I? Demon. Evil. My thoughts race, but I can't make sense of what just happened, only feed my own growing panic. I want to shrink away, to run.

"Sindred," Aurelius takes my hands. I realize I've wrapped my arms around myself and my fingernails were digging into my skin. "It's alright. I've just never seen anything like that before. Everything is fine."

"What happened?" I ask.

"You used glamour," he says.

"But I-"

He interrupts me. "We need to speak to Ezebel. Come."

.

In the apothecary, I stand as far behind Aurelius as I dare while he talks to Ezebel, his tone hushed. I try not to fidget, to let the White Witch see my discomfort.

"It's a trick of the mind," Aurelius explains. "You feel changed, convince yourself so fully, that when others interact with you they are fooled as well. But small changes, like the hue of one's hair or the tip of one's ear, do not require much convincing on either end. It doesn't..." he looks for the right word, "invade anyone's mind. Just pushes against it slightly. That is enough."

"I understand, Aurelius. I may be unable to detect such things, but I am well studied in the way of it nonetheless."

"Sindred…" Aurelius looks at me, and I wince. "This child is very powerful. She didn't realize she was doing anything at all, but she slipped into my mind and I… I couldn't see her, sitting right there across from me. But even stranger than that, I couldn't recall that she'd ever been there at all, or even who Sindred was."

Now Ezebel seems intrigued. She looks from Aurelius to me as he speaks. I do my best to keep my expression neutral.

"I felt muddled and disoriented," Aurelius continues, "which was the only indication I had that I wasn't simply relaxing in that room alone. And then she spoke, and it sounded like a voice from miles away, drifting by on the breeze. My lady, if I wasn't trained to sense such things as I am, or if she had been doing such a thing intentionally, it is possible I would have forgotten her entirely. Permanently. It is one thing to convince someone you have blue eyes, but…" He pauses. "She was gone. Just gone."

Ezebel dismisses him and has me stay behind.

"Do you have anything to add?" she asks, handing me a pair of shears so I can cut strips of bandages. She goes back to crushing herbs in a large stone bowl.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how I did it. I didn't mean to."

She looks up sharply. "Do you think what you did was wrong? That you should be ashamed?"

I hesitate. "Yes," I admit.

"Why?"

"Because I...I failed the lesson! And I scared Aurelius. He said I was in his head, but I didn't… I don't know how I did anything at all."

"You did not fail. You learned something about your own abilities. Perhaps you'll never be able to simply disguise your appearance like Aurelius does. But if you can erase yourself from the minds of others, do you need to?"

"But I don't know how."

"So learn. You did it once; learn to do it on command. Practice until you understand what you did."

I want to argue, to insist that what he says I did is impossible, but instead I nod. "I'll do my best."

.

Alone in my narrow bedroom, I pace back and forth, reliving every moment of the day over and over in my head. I sit on the edge of the mattress and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to recreate the way my thoughts had drifted in the training room, trying to feel like nothing. It isn't working.

I get up and leave the room. I ask a serving maid in the hall if I can be brought some hot water, and she gives me an odd look, like she's wondering if I'm even there. I repeat the request, and this time she nods and scurries away.

"That was a bit strange," another girl says, laughing. She's a few years older than me, wearing a flour-covered apron, her red hair breaking free from the bun behind her head to fall in curling waves around her face. She has an abundance of freckles and a rosy glow of good humor. "You're with the witch, right? I'm Bianca. I work in the kitchens."

"Sindred," I say quietly.

"You alright, Sweetling? You look spooked."

"I'm fine." I keep expecting her to stop smiling at me and make some sneering comment, but her interest seems genuine.

"Do you need something to eat?"

I realize I don't remember the last time I had a meal. Ezebel gives me a cup of mushed green substance every morning, a blend of things she says will give me energy throughout the day. Often I forget to eat anything else.

"Here," Bianca says, not waiting for a response. She reaches into her apron pocket and pulls out a handful of crumbling chocolate biscuits. "You need these more than me."

I put my hands together to receive the gift, too surprised to say no. "Thank you," I mumble. Not sure if she heard me, I say it again, a bit louder.

"It's no trouble, Sweet. If you're ever hungry, come to the kitchens and find me. Alright?" She gives me another bright smile and a pat on the shoulder.

When the maid comes back with the hot water, I answer the door with chocolate-smudged fingers. On the tiny table next to my bed I have a round basin, a small bar of soap and an old looking-glass. I stare into it at my hazy reflection for a moment, pale white face surrounded by sickly smear of yellow. Then, leaning over the basin, I pour hot water over my head, pick up the bar of soap and scrub.

When I'm finished, my scalp is red and itchy, and the water in the basin is bright as ragwort. My hair, dripping with water, has the iridescent colors of mother-of-pearl. I run my fingers through it, and I can't help a little smile as it shimmers in the candlelight.