Theta by Lizzy Ford Page A

her
words shot through us both.
    We couldn’t talk as we used to – about
Theodocia or the insurgency or even the visions, if I didn’t want
him to find out. If I’d struggled before, how was I going to deal
with him now, when he had insight into everything I did or
said?
    “ I’ll bring you some
lunch,” Leandra said and rose. She strode to the door and left,
leaving me alone with my scary thoughts.
    Surely there had to be something I could do
that Cleon wouldn’t see. Could he read my mind?
    I sensed he didn’t yet have this capability,
or his emotions responding to what I thought of him and my
situation would probably be much more apparent. He had no problems
seeing what I did, to include the images of memories that popped up
in my head. Could I assume he was aware of only pictures, not
thoughts?
    I didn’t like this development at all.
    My eyes fell to the names on the wall again.
His positive emotion about the event that cemented his position at
the top – and left over three thousand people dead – repulsed
me.
    At the familiar sound of shuffling, I looked
around for the animated teddy bear from my past that Adonis had
left with me.
    “ Mrs. Nettles?” I called
softly.
    The rustling came from beneath the chaise. I
dropped to my knees and plucked the animal – a cross between a
teddy bear and a cat I had created when I was five – from beneath
the chaise.
    Awake, she observed.
    “ I am,” I replied. “Were
you hiding?”
    She nodded, tugging at one of her oversized
ears with her stubby arms. She purred like a cat and had the
appearance of a stuffed koala bear. Whenever I saw her, I smiled,
recalling when I’d brought her to life. Adonis had protected and
cared for her for twelve years before she found her way back to
me.
    As a child, I’d understood more about how to
use my power than I did now. Or maybe … I played with it, without
the fear of unleashing the apocalypse.
    “ When I was little, I used
to do amazing things, didn’t I?” I asked her.
    She nodded again.
    Cleon was intrigued.
    I didn’t like the idea of him knowing what I
was doing and being aware of how strong I became. But I didn’t see
much of a choice, either. Whenever I started to back away from what
I was supposed to be, the memorial wall reminded me of what
happened if Cleon or I unleashed my power. The image of the world
ending in flame and darkness challenged my desire to obey Cecelia
and repress my power. I tried that approach for weeks, and it
clearly didn’t work. Cleon was growing stronger, and I had to stay
ahead somehow.
    With unlimited power at my fingertips, I
could also stop the apocalypse, if I understood better how to
manage my power. Repressing it wasn’t going to give me that
edge.
    I set Mrs. Nettles down on
the chaise and gazed around me at the ribbons hovering above and
around the objects in my room. Mnemosyne , the goddess of memory, had
explained to me in a vision of my past that I was able to create
and destroy and manipulate the fabric of reality. I didn’t
understand what that meant exactly, or how I could use my power
without the kind of mass destruction I’d already exacted upon the
city. Leandra and I had discovered I could animate objects better
when I wasn’t thinking about them too hard, when my mind was either
distracted or under the influence of alcohol.
    Cecelia had instructed me about how to pay
attention to the signs my magic was about to fly free of me, so I
could stop from unintentional creation. The more I used it, the
more it grew, which was bad, if I wanted to protect those around
me.
    As I stood in my room, contemplating how to
stop the fate I’d seen, I began to think I suffered not from a lack
of power, but a lack of imagination. I didn’t know what I was
supposed to do or how I should try to do it. Herakles had taught me
to be part of my world, to be aware of my physical self and
capabilities at all times. He valued practicality over imagination,
and I’d adapted his way of