A Great and Terrible Beauty (Gemma Doyle #1)(74)

“Wouldn’t it be grand to show them all what we could do?” Ann muses aloud.

I take her hand, and when I do, I notice her wrist has no new marks, only the fading scars of past injuries.

“Yes, it would.”

We sprawl out in the grass, heads together, like a great windmill. And we lie like this for a very long time, I think, holding each other’s hands, feeling our friendship in thumbs and fingers, in the sure, solid warmth of skin, until someone gets the bright idea to make it rain again.



“Tell me again how the magic of the runes works.” I’m lying in the grass next to Mother, watching the clouds in their metamorphoses. A fat, puffy duck is losing the good fight, stretching into something else.

“It works through months and years of training,” Mother responds.

“I know that. But what happens? Do they chant? Speak in tongues? Do the runes sing ‘God Save the Queen’ first?” I’m being saucy, but she’s provoked me.

“Yes. In E flat.”

“Mother!”

“I believe I explained that part.”

“Tell me again.”

“You touch your hands to the runes and the power enters you. It lives inside you for a while.”

“That’s it?”

“The gist, yes. But you first have to know how to control it. It’s influenced by your state of mind, your purpose, your strength. It’s powerful magic. Not to be toyed with. Oh, look, I see an elephant.”

Overhead, the duck blob has become something resembling a blob with a trunk.

“It has only three legs.”

“No, there’s a fourth.”

“Where?”

“It’s right there. You’re just not looking.”

“I am so!” I say, indignant. But it doesn’t matter. The cloud is moving, changing into something else. “How long does the magic last?”

“Depends. For a day. Sometimes less.” She sits up and peers down at me. “But Gemma, you are—”

“Not to use the magic yet. Yes, I believe you mentioned that once or twice.”

Mother is quiet for a moment. “Do you really believe you’re ready?”

“Yes!” I practically shout.

“Take a look at that cloud up there. The one just above us. What do you see?”

I see the outline of ears and a tail. “A kitten.”

“You’re certain?”

She is taxing me. “I do know a kitten when I see one. That doesn’t require any magical powers.”

“Look again,” Mother says.

Above us, the sky is in turmoil. The clouds swirl and crackle with lightning. The kitten is gone and what emerges in its place is a menacing face from a nightmare. It shrieks down toward us till I have to bury my eyes behind my arm.

“Gemma!”

I take my arm away. The sky is calm. The kitten is now a large cat.

“What was that?” I whisper.

“A demonstration,” Mother says. “You have to be able to see what’s really there. Circe will try to make you see a monster when there is only a kitten, and vice versa.”

I’m still shaking. “But it seemed so real.”

She takes my hand in hers and we lie there, not moving. In the distance, Ann is singing an old folk song, something about a lady selling cockles and mussels. It’s a sad song and it makes me feel strange inside. As if I’m losing something but I don’t know what.

“Mother, what if I can’t do this? What if it turns out all wrong?”

The clouds bunch together and thin out. Nothing’s taking shape yet.

“That’s a chance we have to take. Look.”

Above us, the clouds have spread themselves into a wispy ring with no beginning, no end, and in the center is a perfect circle of absolute blue.



On Friday, I receive a surprise visit. My brother is waiting for me in the parlor. A gaggle of girls is inventing reasons to walk past so that they can peek in at him. I close the doors behind me, cutting Tom off from his admiring flock before my nausea overtakes me.

“Well, if it isn’t my lady Dour!” Tom says, standing. “Have you managed to find me a suitable wife yet? I’m not picky—just someone pretty, quiet, with a small fortune and her own teeth. Actually, I am flexible on all points but the small fortune. Unless, of course, it’s a large one.”

For some reason, the sight of Tom, reliable, snobby, shallow Tom, fills me with good cheer. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him. I throw my arms around him. He stiffens for a second, then hugs me back.

“Yes, well, they must be treating you like a dog if you’re glad to see me. I must say you’re looking well.”

“I feel well, Tom. Truly.” I want so much to tell him about Mother, but I know I can’t. Not yet. “Have you heard from Grandmother? How’s Father?”

Tom’s smile slips. “Oh, yes. They’re doing well.”

“Will he come for Assembly Day? I can’t wait to see him again, and introduce him to all my friends here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t get my hopes up yet, Gemma. He might not be able to get away just now.” Tom adjusts his cuffs. It’s a nervous habit. Something I’ve begun to realize he does only when he lies.