I take a deep breath. “Am I to live in a cage and perform tricks with my magic?” “No. For this to work, you must not let on that you have any magic, or even that you’re Iljaria at all.” I tilt my head. “What do you mean, Father?” He smiles. “We’re going to turn you into a Skaandan, and we’re going to make you remarkable for something other than magic.” Grief flashes across his face, raw sorrow stitched with rage. “We’re going to make you fly.”
