“Exactly.” Athene sits back. “The Moon is like an unpolished mirror, reflecting light in a form gentle enough to use.” She points to the thick black lines around her eyes. “That’s why we use this. We’re overly sensitive to light, and the kohl absorbs some of the Sun’s glare.”
Now I understand why the Sun has been giving me headaches and making my eyes water. Even so, I’m not ready to wear kohl and rise with the moon rather than the Sun. “How long have Selenae been able to use magick?”
“Our ancestors used it to build an empire over two thousand years ago,” Athene replies. “Selenic warriors were never limited by night, easily conquering those who could only see in daylight hours.”
She falls silent for a few seconds before smiling ironically. “Back then, blood magick was common. Our historians don’t mention it, but I imagine it was most useful in interrogating prisoners. Crime within the Selenic Empire was almost nonexistent, because transgressions could never stay hidden. People may lie, but blood never does.”
When Athene stops this time, she doesn’t continue, just stares at the half-full cup in front of her. “What happened?” I ask. “How did the empire fall?”
For it must have.
“The magick began to fail,” she says quietly. “Blood magick slowly became rare, and moon magick grew more and more difficult to handle, as if we became smaller vessels, and it was overflowing, drowning us.” Athene looks to Gregor. “We learned to manage it with voidstones and other methods. In an attempt to preserve what we had, consorting with non-Selenae becamegrounds for being cast out of communities. But blood magick continued to dwindle, even as we kept ourselves separate from the Hadrian Empire which rose to take our place.”
Our uncle folds his arms across his chest. “My niece believes if we mingled with Hadrians, it might somehow unlock the magick within our blood.”
He plainly doesn’t see merit in the idea. “Did my father agree?” I ask.
Gregor snorts. “Your father fell in love with a pretty face. It just happened to belong to a Hadrian. He would have been voided if physicians weren’t so rare and needed.”
Voided? I don’t like the sound of that.
“There’s logic in the idea,” Athene insists. “Pure metals are rarely as strong as alloys. Bronze is made from copper and tin, steel from iron and charcoal, brass from copper and cadmia. Even gold holds its shape better with some impurities. Meanwhile, the Selenae rust like cast iron.”
“And if you’re wrong,” Gregor challenges, “we lose what little we have.”
Athene sets her mouth. “At this point we have nothing to lose. Catrin is evidence I may be right. She not only has blood magick, it’s stronger than mine and probably her father’s, and that she’s discovered, used, and somewhat mastered moon magick completely on her own speaks for itself.”
I flush. “You overestimate me.”
“Do I?” Athene raises her eyebrows. “When did you first hear the blood of that woman in the alley? When did it call to you?”
“It was at the Sanctum,” I say. “I heard her, but… I don’t think she actually screamed. Her throat was cut.”
Gregor scowls. “That’s impossible.”
That he thinks so is unsettling. I’d accepted the things I couldsee and do as magick, yes, but as something all Selenae were capable of. Now I’m being told I can do far more.
Athene holds up a hand to tell Gregor to remain silent. “Did you have any other connections with her?” she asks me.
I hesitate. “Bruises. Across my middle. At first I thought they were from my safety rope, but there were seven of them. They matched the knife wounds on Perrete’s stomach. I never told anyone.”
Even Athene looks startled by that. “Were there any other times you saw or felt something from a distance?”
My fingers tremble so violently the cup rattles in its saucer, and I pull my hands to my lap. “The night the third girl died. By the statue.”
“What did you see, Cat?” My cousin leans over to cover my hands with one of hers. She’s in awe, but sympathetic.
I take a deep breath. “I was watching the moon set, then suddenly Iwasher. I saw and felt everything she did as he killed her.” I choke, remembering her terror and the sensation of blood pouring down my chest, the inability to breathe. “Is that—is that normal among Selenae?”
“No,” Athene says quietly. “It’s not.” Keeping her hand on mine, she eyes Gregor. “Have you ever heard of that happening, Uncle?”
I can tell she knows the answer. “There are legends,” he murmurs. “Ancient as the empire, describing how warrior kings and queens could cross a bridge of moonlight to the mind of another person. No one believes they’re actually true. Just stories.”
“Apparently not,” Athene says. She comes out of her chair to wrap her arms around me as I so