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Magic was a rare thing, though not as rare as certain families would have you believe. It passed down lines, but sometimes it skipped a generation or more. And it certainly could manifest in bastards.
Ribbon knew that Lacey’s magic, however slight, was a selling point for some clients. It would have narrowed down the options for who her father could be, even had her eyes not gleamed purple. She was powerful, that was undeniable, but with almost no training there was a limited amount she could do. It was impressive, though, how much Lacey had taught herself. She had a hell of a set of parlour tricks, that was for certain.
She made it look effortless, same way she did her beauty. But Ribbon had seen how much work went into the latter, so when light surrounded Lacey, she figured it must take a lot. Especially since Lacey always seemed tireder after a client wanted what Lacey always called a “light show”, even when it didn’t involve light.
She could do a little with fire, but she avoided it. It was one thing, she had told Ribbon, for people to see her eyes and her magic and know. It was another for them to know, to broadcast it. That was a risk she had no intention of taking. And Ribbon knew, as did all the workers in The Waters’ Blessing, how little Lacey cared for the man who had sired her. The circumstances of her conception weren’t hard to guess, considering.
So Lacey made her power her own, at least as far as Ribbon could tell. It was as beautiful and practiced as Lacey herself.