Chapter 33: Marie de la Roque

Sophie sits in her chamber, wrapped in a mantle despite the humidity, her skin pale and her eyes hollow. She has barely risen from bed in days. Her spirit magic is nearly spent, drained by wishes she never understood. She stares at the bracelet formulating a plan in her mind.

Marie hesitates at the doorway of what was once her room. Now she sleeps on a bedroll in the main room. She has come to bring Sophie broth, as Anne asked, though Sophie rarely accepts anything from either of them. Sophie lifts her head slowly.

“Marie,” she says, voice thin and brittle, “come here.”

Marie steps forward, cautious. Sophie’s moods have become unpredictable; sharp one moment, exhausted the next.

Sophie holds out her wrist.

“Take it.”

Marie blinks. “The bracelet?”

“Yes.” Sophie’s voice tightens. “I don’t want it any more.”

Marie hesitates. “Why?”

Sophie’s eyes flash with a brief, sharp glint of resentment. “Because it’s useless to me now. And perhaps it will ... suit you better.”

Her tone is deceptively mild, but her intent is not. Sophie wants Marie to suffer like she has suffered. She wants Marie to be burdened. She wants Marie to feel the same misfortune that has crushed her. But she doesn’t reveal the bracelet’s magic, nor does she reveal the danger. She simply unclasps the bracelet and presses it into Marie’s palm.

Marie’s fingers close around it instinctively. The gold is warm ... strangely warm ... as though it has been resting against a fire. Sophie watches her with a faint, brittle smile.

“Wear it,” she says. “If you like.”

Marie nods slowly, unsettled by Sophie’s sudden generosity. “Thank you ... I think.”

Sophie turns away, dismissing her with a flick of her hand as she would a servant. “Go.”

Marie leaves the chamber, clutching the bracelet, unsure whether she has been given a gift or a curse.

Marie does not wear the bracelet immediately. It’s too fine a piece to wear while doing chores. She places it in a small wooden box inside her chest of belongings, wrapped in a scrap of linen. She touches it occasionally, feeling the warmth through the cloth. It is not frightening ... only strange.

Days pass. Sometimes Marie slips the bracelet onto her wrist for a moment, just to feel the warmth. Sometimes she removes it quickly, unsure why it unsettles her. Sometimes she wonders why Sophie gave it to her at all.

She doesn’t touch the stones, so I remain hidden from view. But I’m quietly watching and listening. The bracelet waits patiently.

Marie wears the bracelet infrequently, unaware that each moment she does, the magic stirs faintly, like a sleeping creature shifting in its dreams. And Sophie, watching from a distance, waits for misfortune to fall upon her half‑sister.