I blinked at a strange swirling pattern in wood, unsure of what I was seeing or where I was.

“She is awake! Aevie, can you hear me?”

“What happened?” I sat up and found myself on the Holy Man’s bed. “Augh.” I put my hand on my forehead. “My head.”

Reuben brought me a cup of tea and would not allow questions until I finished it.

“What happened?” I asked again.

“You fainted and—I couldn’t wake you.” Avery looked uncomfortable.

“High Tide,” the Holy Man explained. “The currents are very strong at High Tide. They can carry a person away. Especially…” He hesitated.

“A chaos mage.” That was what Grandfather had said, ‘Little Chaos’.

“Yes.”

“You knew?”

“I was not certain, but I suspected. When you were here before, the herbs in my tea did not affect you. When you left, you left disorder behind. But more than that,” he looked at Avery and did not finish his thought.

“But…that was hers. She stayed alive." Grandfather's madness, the power to control people...

He shook his head, silent.

"You're wrong." I shook mine, and my vision blurred. “I’m only a woodcrafter. I Charm wood. No one has both, a Talent and magic.”

“Your chaos gives you the ability to Charm wood. You could have just as easily, and with equal difficulty, learned to work with any other natural material. Chaos mages are generally able to Charm anything that has energy. Plants, animals, people…”

“I have never been good with animals.”

“Being afraid of something is not the same as incapability. Did not the king’s own stallion bring you directly here?”

“I thought…” I tried to think about it, but my head ached at the effort.

“That horse has never been here, nor has the king.”

“Oh. Then, animals and the trees respond to me because I have…”

He looked in Avery’s direction. “She told me what happened, that you were poisoned before birth. But a chaos mage cannot be poisoned, not by nature.”

“I don’t understand." But I did. "I thought a chaos mage was a mage that had lost control.” But I had heard the stories. "Isn't it only a phrase, crazy like a chaotic mage?" I just never believed they applied to me.

“That is a common misconception. A chaos mage is born, not made. A mage who is untrained, or who goes insane, becomes unstable and the resulting magic resembles that of a chaos mage, but there are many important differences.”

“I’m not insane.”

“That is one, yes,” he smiled cheerfully, and I felt myself relax.

“Then it is not a bad thing, to be a chaos mage?”

“No.” His expression was sorrowful.

“But?”

“It is misunderstood. The Guild of Mages is against chaos magic, has been for hundreds of years, and chaos mages are often forced to hide or leave the country.”

“Because of Gr—Horatio?”

“That is only part of it. Many believe that his chaos magic resulted from his insanity. He had kept it a secret much of his life. Those who understand that he was born a chaos mage believe that it drove him mad. He claimed he could hear the whispers of the wind, the laughter of the rain, and the shouts of thunder. True or not, he made his own choices.”

“But, I’m not going to lose my mind?”

Reuben smiled sadly at me. “Many chaos mages do.”

I held my breath and let go of the budding hope I felt. I had not known it was chaos magic, but it was no great change in the end. Perhaps I was not a very strong chaos mage, but that would not prevent the insanity from catching up to me. Was that not the reason I had traveled to Saliz rather than fleeing to a small village to live out my life in peace? Still, I had to ask, “Why?”

“Chaos magic is unnatural. Most magic takes energy, but chaos creates it. Letting it flow through you is like overusing herbs. It is dangerous, and addictive.”

“Then how do I train so that I don’t lose my mind?”

“The best is to not use it."

Sebastien had not thought it dangerous. What had he called it? "Is that different from Myth magic?”

Reuben looked surprised. “I heard that term once, long ago. When chaos mages worked for the Temple they were called Myth mages.”

“But you said chaos magic is unnatural. Why would the Temple want them?”

“I should have said it differently. Chaos magic is not so much unnatural as it is hyper-natural. Chaos magic goes against the natural order of life—growth, decay, death. A chaos mage brings life where, most would argue, life should not be. Some deliberately, but oftentimes, chaos mages struggle to control their magic. In order to learn control, they would meditate on a Higher Power.”

“Holy Men and Women,” I realized.

“Yes. When they guilds no longer accepted them, the Temple did."

Before I could ask more, Avery said impatiently, “We don’t have time for this. It is already two hours past High Tide.”

“Is it?” I looked at Reuben in alarm.

He nodded. “I have heard why you are come. I will help as I am able.”

“Thank you,” I smiled.

“Whatever. I’ll be out there.” Avery stepped through the door.

“Her being here, that is your chaos as well.”

“Is…is she…alright?”

“You went somewhere that she could not go, and because you were gone, she was weakened.”

“Oh.”

“It is not natural for a human spirit to remain after death, especially an infant."

Aevlin, there isn't time! We can come back. We will come back. Or he will be there. Avery spoke only for me, where he could not hear her.

"And it is still less natural for that human spirit to grow into a child and into a woman, yet she has. You must let her go, before..."

Did he expect me to believe that an infant had the presence of mind and the power of will to preserve another's spirit? Anything I had tried--of course, I had tried!--failed. I could not bring Father back, could not save a drowning bird, could not do any of the tricks from Jaiden's stories. I didn't have that magic.

I didn't.

Dawn was breaking as I rode my borrowed horse straight to the Woodcrafters Guild. I skipped knocking, but waited in the hallway while an irritated apprentice went to deliver my message. She returned with Master Thorne and an expression that anticipated my being thrown out.

“Aev—!” he smiled and frowned. “I expected you much sooner. Shall we take a walk? It is a lovely day.” He walked straight past me out into the morning sunshine.

Avery took a moment to smile smugly at the disappointed apprentice before we followed.

The Woodcrafter’s Guild had its own grove of trees for wandering and inspiring creativity. I could not help but regret the time that I had spent avoiding it. “I am not sure this is the best place,” I looked around at all the trees, feeling exposed and tempted. “Can we not speak in your study?”

“On such a beautiful day as this?”

I looked at the overcast sky and felt the humidity rising with each second that passed. “It’s not yours, is it?”

“It is the Masters Study.”

“And there are three of you,” I nodded to myself.

“How do you make that sound so common? There are ONLY three Woodcraft Masters.”

“Thorne.”

“Master _. You have never not called me Master." He bent down to look me in the eye. "You know I am the youngest woodcrafter to ever be named Master?”

“You are not my teacher anymore.”

“I will always be your Master Thorne.” He grinned and gave me a hug. “How are you? I had hoped you would come right away.”

I felt sorry for being stiff even as the memory of his duplicity rang in my ears. “I didn’t know I could. I would have come. I could have been here this whole time, training my craft…” But my craft was a lie. I was not Talented, as he believed. Just chaotically Charming.

“You could have! Winter need never have met you, need never have known you were not a boy. You would have been perfectly safe here.”

“You always knew,” I said softly.

Master Thorne paused to place his palm on a sad willow. The grove even had a small brook running through it. “I should have been there, when your father—but I was too busy completing my Masterwork for approval. I did not hear until after. I was the only one he ever told where—so I went to your family, to do what I could. Callily told me to leave, but I built my little house, determined to stay.” He smiled at me, “And aren’t you glad I did?”

I looked at the trees again, and at the Guild House. “Are you certain it’s wise…”

He laughed with kind eyes. “Woodcrafters do not heed the trees, Aevlin. They would never cut any to craft!”

I glared at him. I had said exactly that as his apprentice, and he had convinced me of exactly the opposite. “You said it was Wood Charm. You said it was common. You even described to me their personalities!”

He patted a nearby Walnut cheerfully, “It was not hard to guess. Take this Walnut. I suppose it’s hard of hearing?” he joked. The tree was asleep and did not notice.

“Then, you knew what it was? What it meant?”

“You do Charm wood quite well, but there is only one kind of magic that leaks into everything.”

“You said I had fire magic.”

Thorne nodded. “I went to Callily when I realized what you had.” He smiled fondly. “She nearly killed me for asking. She insisted that your fire magic was a little wild, that she had done all she could to train it out of you.” He made a humble half-bow, “I merely followed her example.”

“You both made me believe I was defective,” I complained.

“What should we have told you?”

“Why not the truth?”

Thorne plucked a low-hanging leaf off the nearest walnut tree, which did not notice. “Do you know why there are so few like you?”

“Because I’m a special raindrop.” His expression took me back two years. “Wait, let me try again. There are fewer to begin with, it is hard to control, it makes people crazy, and others are afraid of it. That’s what The Holy Man said.”

“Still playing Wild Man in the forest, is he? We all have our own ways of coping. He is not wrong, and not right.”

He held out his arm and we walked through the grove. “Chaos is something that grows. The more you allow it to flow through you, the more powerful it becomes. Worse, it gives the mage energy and life. That kind of power, of energy, it consumes people.”

“I don’t feel powerful.”

“You never use it. Don’t interrupt. Where was I?”

“People.”

“Ah, yes. It is not rare. There are more fire mages born, and more water mages than fire, and more blood mages, and more plant mages, and so on. The difference would not be significant, if not for... All magic is less common than Talents, which is less common than Charms.”

“Then how come I never hear of choas?”

“Most die before they reach ten years. Failing that, they are killed before fifteen years.”

I was horrified. “Why?” But I remembered Jaiden's stories. Villages destroyed by tree-monsters, plagues of undead, unstoppable fires. Horse-sized rats living in sewers.

“Children don’t know when, or how, to stop. And it’s too easy to accidentally hurt someone, or worse.”

I thought of exploding chairs, and Master Thorne’s cheerful countenance as he popped up from behind his makeshift stone barricade. Had he been afraid of me?

“Callily made sure you were the most controlled little girl ever to live, and she kept you away from everyone.”

“So they wouldn’t get hurt.”

“So you wouldn’t hurt yourself,” he caught my chin and forced me to look up at him. “Your mother loved you as only a mother can, with all that she had. She tried to protect you from everything, even yourself.”

“She always ignored me,” I argued. “She couldn’t stand looking at me, she said so.”

“She couldn’t bear to see the power in you, crackling and taunting her, threatening to take you away.”

“She always left me to play alone.”

“With specific instructions on where to go and what to do.”

That was true. Mother always told me which part of the river I could swim in, or which trees I could climb, or where in the grove to play. “But that’s..”

“It is control, order. Anathema to chaos. She always made sure that there would be no variables. She did all she could, and yet it grew.”

Because of Avery, I realized. A variable she could not control.

“Your father made it worse, always coming and going unexpectedly.”

I looked up in surprise. Was that bitterness?

“Callily complained of that. She thought that was why it managed to grow so much, when you were younger.”

They had fought often, I remembered.

The night Father came home with the news that the Mad King was dead, I overheard them arguing for the last time. I had been playing in the field when Avery suggested that we find a snack in the cellar. When I heard Mother enter the kitchen above me, I stayed quiet hoping she would leave quickly. Instead, Father came in. I almost came out of hiding at the sound of his voice.

How strange that I could forget the exact words, when they made such a deep impression at the time. With the events of that night, the rest had become indistinct.

Mother asked him if he was home, if it was finally over. Or maybe she told him that it was. At his silence, or perhaps his expression, she accused him of loving her more, and him more. Father reminded her that it was his duty, his penance, to raise the boy into a king. His words were tired, as though he had said them many times before. I could not see them, but I pictured Father’s tired, patient expression that I knew well, although he was often gone, and I blamed Mother for everything, whatever it was.

She told him that she would not accept half of him any longer, that her children deserved better. She told him that she was with child. She accused him of ruining his children’s lives, of being a source of chaos.

Had she only meant me?

Father said that the boy was not ready, that it was more important now than ever if he was to make a good king.

Did he know, then, how soon he would die? Did he think it would hurt less, if he betrayed her first?

He told her that Delila wanted another child, and he owed it to her, since he had killed her first lover. “My own cousin, my own blood, died by these hands.” I remembered that. “Because I loved her, I killed him.”

Mother told him that if he left, he was never coming back.

She was right.

Had she said it for my sake?

Surely not. “She was afraid of me,” I whispered. I could see it in her eyes.

“She was afraid for you. Afraid that any sort of instability would destroy you. She was afraid, too, to let me teach you. She knew that it would come out, that I could not fail to see it. But she also believed in the control that comes with crafting. She hoped that it would be a source of order for you. That it would protect you.”

“Did it? Does it?” Had Mother really cared?

“Of course, any kind of craftwork is calming, if you let it be. It helps if you are good at it.” He grinned, “But even without Talent, wood absorbs chaos. Rosewood is especially good for it. Working with it, and other hardwoods, helped keep you chaos-free.”

“Wait, you meant that they’re good at storing energy?”

He looked at me curiously. “Why, what did you think I meant?”

“…Nothing.” I needed to apologize to the Rosewood. “Can I borrow a knife?”

I returned to the palace feeling light, only partly because I hadn’t eaten properly in days. I did not even mind riding the horse, until I saw the Captain standing, of all places, in the king’s stallion’s stall.

The smile dropped right off my face at his look of fury. “Dismount, Miss Avery.”

The guards were the same, and they looked apologetic. “Sorry, Captinette,” the taller one whispered as he helped me out of the saddle. The stableman occupied himself with the horse, and the other two turned their backs, pretending not to listen.

They need not have bothered. The Captain silently pointed in the direction of his office. He did not follow me in, locking the door from outside.

He doesn’t even bother to lecture anymore. Avery noted with a sigh.

I had enough to occupy myself.

I had tucked the Rosewood branch under my mat, only occasionally losing sleep by rolling over it. With Thorne’s carving knife and a new feeling of hope, I carefully carved the wood into hundreds of little beads. Only when there was nothing left to cut did I let the knife drop from my poor, abused hand. The beads were everywhere. I slumped against the wall.

“These actually all look the same size.” Avery poked at them, pulling her finger away as if she expected it to burn. “How do you plan to use them? With Tergin and the Captain and all the people and excitement you’ll be building chaos the whole time.”

She was right. Carving had used up some of the energy, but I could feel it swirling. It must have been growing in the last few days. Or perhaps I only noticed it now, and it had always been there, unnamed.

I had known of chaos magic. When I was seven or eight I had asked Jaiden what it was that made everyone hate Grandfather. Neighbors would spit at the mention of his name, and villagers would count dates as if his forty-year reign had never happened. Jaiden looked and found the stories, some well known and others well hidden. We had both tried--how could we not? Magic is genetic. But neither of us could raise a bunny or uproot and control a tree. If that was chaos magic, if the stories were true, I didn't have it.

But according to Sebastien, not every water mage created illusions like his. And I did have chaos magic. Enough that someone had sent assassins after me, multiple times.

The biggest flaw in my plan was that the moment my chaos magic was revealed, Count Tergin would have me quietly removed and replaced by Kiva. But if the beads could hold enough chaos to hide it, even for a moment, I had a chance.

I grabbed a dress from my room and looked for the seams, planning to pull out the string. Instead, the sound of someone fiddling with the door had me scrambling to hide all the beads.

Iris poked her head in and assessed the situation. She stepped back out and thanked someone, probably Mereditt, before entering alone and presenting a tray of steaming food. “I brought dinner.”

“An angel.”

I put my hands to my cheeks and felt my eyes tear up. “You are amazing.” How had she left her kitchen?

She set the food on the desk. “Do you need anything else? I do not know when the Captain plans to return.”

I looked at the beads. “String. Lots of it.” I glanced at the tray of food. “And breakfast.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“In the morning, before the Captain returns.”

“That man needs to eat something,” she agreed.

“And sleep,” I nodded.

She smiled, “I can take care of that.”

Stringing the beads was much more tedious than carving them had been, but at least I had warm food in my stomach and the comfort of a well thought-out plan.

“It isn’t enough.”

“Don’t spoil my mood. I’m feeling almost hopeful.” I tied off another string of beads and started on the next one.

“But I have an idea.”

I looked up, my hands continuing the work.

“While you were unconscious, there was something Reuben said…”

Reuben had chastised her for taking so much of my energy, causing her to realize that it might be possible for her to hold some of it. Besides the beads, if she held onto as much chaos as she could while staying out of sight, we had a better chance of my chaos magic being unrecognized.

It was worth trying, and she could hold more than the beads, leaving some of them empty to collect anything I gained before it was time.

With nothing left to prepare, I tried to sleep until Mereditt came with a tray. Breakfast, for myself and the Captain.