"What do you call it?” Marco asks.
Celia does not need to ask what he means.
“Manipulation. I called it magic when I was younger. It took me quite some time to break the habit, though my father never cared for the term. He’d call it enchanting, or forcibly manipulating the universe when he was not in the mood for brevity.”
“Enchanting?” Marco repeats.”I have not thought of it as such before.”
"Nonsense," Celia says. "It’s precisely what you do. You enchant. You’re clearly good at it. You have so many people in love with you. Isobel. Chandresh. And there must be others.”