things are never as they seem

Beatrix

Beatrix studied her nails, as her brother asked her what magic she could do. Without speaking, she pressed her palm against the table and concentrated, the corners of her mouth upturned as the wood began to splinter underneath her fingers. She’d not tested her magic out, after waking up in Whitebrim and had briefly worried that perhaps the spirit had taken it from her. That certainly would have been unfortunate.

She finished the last bite of her stew, and resumed studying her fingernails, “What about you?” There was never a seed of doubt in her mind that Jace had some kind of magic; with his parents, it was practically a given. Beatrix does not hide the splintered section of the table in front of her, though her gaze does briefly survey those around them, almost bored of them.

Let's see how long you'll last, puppet.

Code blatantly stolen from Sky