The next few days were purposefully dense with activity. The children sent south to the ateliers to see if their gifts were worth cultivating would return as mages, or tactfully silent disappointments. Talwyn buried herself in assisting in her father’s workshop. The others who worked there at all times were not exactly friendly with her, but she had grown used to that. They had taken tasks in other parts of the palace with no gum to grind for a few months now. Instead they had been sent out gathering for gall nuts, forced out into the orchards to scrape their limbs against bark and risk wasp stings while Talwyn only risked her fingers cutting paper and waxing thread.

Her thoughts felt wounded by what Cardinal Gall had said to her. Though as she sat and slid thread against thread between paper, slowly stacking and building, she imagined that had been his intention. What would she do about such a thing? What could she do? Little. Talwyn’s mind itched, picking at the scab that his words had left.

Convenient warm spot indeed. There was no doubt in her mind that he was just putting his heel in where he could. Thomas had quickened and she had been left without. The slick curved needle gently drew the thread between the papers, around another thread then back where it had come, securing it to its brothers. It wasn’t as if Talwyn had not attempted to move whatever magic sat within her. When Thomas had been overcome with fever and pains, thin streaks of bright, sky bright blue filling his palms she had tried to suck them out. Catch them with her teeth.

Nothing had come of it. Her mind remained still and dull while her brother had been gently tended to, given all kinds of fruit preserve Talwyn had never even seen before. He of course gave her some when she would visit his room in the night but it had become obvious that the gap growing between them had widened further. That last night with quince jam still lingering on his tongue she kissed him, finally battering down whatever last pretense he’d had to cling to that their closeness was chaste.

She had tried to hold him then. To keep him with her somehow so that he wouldn’t leave. He had confessed so many heart warm things that night but refused to do what she wished. Talwyn paused in her threading, grazing the needle against her thumb with a sharp intake of breath. The meat of it was dented but thankfully it hadn’t broken the skin.

Mind heaving with memories of Thomas’ heated skin against hers, she pressed her thumb down sharply. The needle drew blood and slicked it down against the case binding. A bitter smile pulled her lips thin and taut as she thought that a needle to be braver than her brother.