"If it were different," she began, but quieted when I kissed her.
"I understand," I said. "If it's what you have to do…"
The tone of my voice must've triggered something, because she made a noise of defeat. "Maybe I could go over her head. Petition directly with Ashley and the rest of the clan. If they give you their blessing, Mom can't go around them."
"That…could work," I said with a nod. "How often do you meet?"
"We've got a quarterly clan gathering at the end of August," she said. "Right before school starts. Maybe I'll talk to my uncle now, though. He's pretty reasonable. And he's really happy my grades have improved."
I nodded. "I'd love to meet him."
"You two would get along great," she said, glancing around before climbing into my lap. "He's always telling me to read more books."
I held her by her hips, savoring her closeness. "Smart man. I did finish that book, by the way, the vampire one."
"Oh? Did you like it?"
I winced. "Not terribly. I'm sorry—it was hard to follow."
"You prefer Shakespeare to Anne Rice?" she said with a sigh, sliding her hands through my hair.
"I prefer you to anything else," I replied, capturing her lips with mine. She smiled, opening her mouth to me. Oh, how I couldn't wait for the day when I could get her alone, away from this library with the observant librarians. Even now, this was stolen time that might—
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Mora?"
The voice was young—and the girl it belonged to was as well. I pegged her age at maybe nine, but her magic was bound tightly—tighter than any grounding spell I'd encountered so far. Her short cropped hair gave her the air of a boy, but shared some of Mora's features. There was no mistaking it—this girl was somehow related to her. A sister?
"Hello," I said quietly. "My name is—"
"I know who you are," she snapped. "And I also know you aren't supposed to be here."
"Scram, Jeanie," Mora said. "Gavon, this is my obnoxious little sister."
Although her magic was tightly bound, even I could tell there was very little of it. "Why is her magic so secured?"
"We don't get magic until we're fifteen," Mora said.
Still, the girl had very little to be concerned with. I'd almost consider her a Potion-maker. "Does your magic increase in strength as you age?"
The little girl's face turned white and Mora smacked my shoulder. "No, it doesn't."
"My sincere apologies," I said, knowing I'd made an egregious error. "Please, forgive me—"
But Jeanie wasn't to be persuaded. "Mom said you're supposed to tell her when you see him, and here you are making out with him." She narrowed her eyes. "He's dangerous."
I swallowed, looking around. "I don't mean either of you any harm."
"I'm sure you don't," the girl replied. "So why are you making out with my sister?"
My cheeks warmed—I had no good answer for that, other than that I was hopelessly besotted with her.
"That's what I thought," the girl said, marching forward as if she had any kind of magic to wield. "I'm gonna go home and tell my mom about you. And then you're both gonna be in serious trouble."
"Jeanie," Mora said, grabbing her sister by the shoulders. "What can I give you so you won't tell Mom?"
The little girl thought then held out her hand. "All you have."
Mora grumbled and dug in her purse for her wallet, handing her sister a wad of cash. "Not a word, understood?"
The girl looked at me then turned on her heel and walked away.
"That was close," Mora said. "I wonder how much I'll have to pay her to keep quiet."
"Hopefully, you won't have to pay for her for very long. You said you'll go petition your uncle, right? Maybe it'll all be taken care of."
"Maybe," Mora said, chewing her lip. "I just hope he's as reasonable as I think he is."
Fourteen
The next morning, I did my chores but my mind kept wandering back to Mora and her little sister. I suppose I could understand Mora's hesitation; her mother was a formidable woman, magically and otherwise. But I also really didn't believe that Mora's mother would be so prejudiced toward me, especially now, as I'd spent hours with her daughter in the library. That had to count for something.
"Look sharp, Gav!"
I looked up just as I nearly ran into Cyrus in the hallway. He scoffed at me as if I were dirt and continued walking down the stairs. He didn't bother to pretend he was helping me assemble breakfast, so I brought the food into the room by myself. I kept my gaze averted to avoid any unwanted conversation.
"I had a fascinating conversation with the Enchanters yesterday," Alexandra said, her gaze on neither of us, but my ears pricked up regardless.
"Oh? What do the vermin want now?" Cyrus asked.
She chuckled, though the gaze she gave him was anything but humorous. "Those vermin create the food on this table, Cyrus. As you might have heard on your rounds, they've grown concerned about the quality of their bread-making materials." She lifted her gaze to mine. "Gavon, it appears your experiment was a resounding success, and the Council wants to speak with you."
Cyrus's head practically popped off his shoulders. "What experiment? What's he been doing? What—"
"Calm yourself, Cyrus," Alexandra said. "Gavon simply offered to use his free time to conduct experimentations on the bread." She brought her cup to her lips. "You've never shown any interest in magical sciences, therefore I didn't ask you. A Guildmaster must delegate effectively."
The look on Cyrus face was pure jealousy—something I hadn't seen since he and I were boys. "Oh."
"I wasn't aware that my involvement was common knowledge," I said, glancing across the table to Cyrus.
"Councilman Rogers was very persistent, and Mary decided to share the secrets behind her success," she said. "I believe they want to hear more about what your solution might do for others, like the grain stores. You'll accompany me to the Council meeting prior to your sparring match this morning."
I was halfway to nodding when I heard what she'd said. "Sparring match?"
"Yes, Mistress," Cyrus said. "Sparring match?"
"I believe I was quite clear," she said. Was she actually smirking? I must've been seeing things. "Gavon, you will resume sparring with Cyrus this afternoon. If I decide your performance is unsatisfactory, we'll return to our other arrangement of daily matches." She met my gaze and the rest of her statement was clear:
If you impress me, you'll be inducted.
If Cyrus had been jealous at breakfast, he'd been beside himself with contained fury as Alexandra and I left for the Council meeting house together. I would deal with his petulance (and whatever he'd do to punish me for this perceived slight) later, because now I had a much bigger problem: What was I going to tell the Council?
Alexandra gave me no indication of what she was thinking, which never boded well for me. If I told them it was a potion, would they want to see it? Would they want to watch how I turned crumbs of dirt into delicious bread? Or would they simply order my execution because I was dabbling in forbidden magic?
Only time—and Alexandra—would tell.
My heart thudded in my chest as the doors magically opened and Alexandra and I walked into the Council room. For the location of all the major decisions in the village, it was incredibly small, containing a single table with five chairs spread around it. Alexandra took the chair in the center, and I stood against the door while we waited for the rest of the magicals to make their appearance.
Timothy Rogers, the Enchanter, was first, appearing in a haze of green. He was the oldest on the Council, and had lost most of his hair. What was left was white and stringy. It wouldn't have surprised me if he'd already been infected with rot.
Elizabeth Humbert was next. A Charmer with the most cows in the village, she hoarded them emphatically and gave only as much as Alexandra made her. She took a seat next to Rogers, eyeing me curiously.
The final living
Councilman to join was Roger Mowry, another Enchanter who was fairly young—younger than Alexandra. He'd fallen into his position when Master Jones died, and to my eyes, he never quite looked like he knew what he was doing.
"Very well, let's begin," Alexandra said, glancing for a moment at the empty fourth chair. "Gavon, we've heard from the Enchanter Mary's own mouth that you gave her a pile of crumbs to use in her bread. Is that true?"
I scanned her face, looking for what I was supposed to say. "Yes. The Enchanters mentioned their bread fell apart when they fashioned it. So I sought a solution to help stabilize the bread." On your orders, I might've added. I didn't though, as I wasn't sure what game Alexandra was playing at.
"And what was this solution?" Alexandra asked. "A potion?"
My blood ran cold. Was she trying to get me in trouble, or perhaps giving me some legitimacy? Slowly, I nodded. "Yes, Mistress. Just something I've been dabbling with."
"Potions, beh," Rogers said. "How can we even entertain such a thought?"
"One would say that your beer brewing is similar in nature to it," Alexandra said casually. "As it is, our village is dying. Magical rot is taking us younger and younger. I believe it has to do with our lack of real food. We've been here for generations. We can't grow anything in this dead soil, and what we have is mostly magic."
I could scarcely believe my ears. Was Alexandra defending potions?
"Magic sustains us," Humbert said.
"Perhaps," Alexandra said, her voice lowering to its previous level. "But it cannot be denied that Gavon's discovery has brought hope to our Enchanters."
"It's good bread," Rogers scratched his chin. "Think you could make something for my beer, boy?"
"I could try." I hadn't even asked Mora if the nonmagicals still drank beer. I hoped I wasn't promising something I couldn't deliver.
"And grain for my cows?" Mowry asked. "Half our milk has to be thrown out these days, it's just no good."
I'd seen milk in that wondrous building, but grain? I was sure I could find it. "I'll try."
"How about a demonstration?" Rogers asked. "I'd like to see what this boy is doing to our food before I put it in my mouth."
"I saw you eating a loaf not one hour ago," Humbert said.
"Potions are distasteful things," Rogers said, although he settled into his chair. "I merely want to ensure we aren't poisoning ourselves."
Alexandra held up her hand to silence the argument. "For the time being, Gavon will continue to experiment in private. I don't wish for this to get out to the rest of the Guild. Is that understood."
Something warm slid down my throat—Alexandra was barring us from speaking about it.
"Now, we have other business to attend to," she said, nodding to me. "Gavon, wait for me at the arena."
I exhaled, thankful I'd survived another close call. Luckily, the Council wasn't inquisitive. I would have to figure something out to keep one step ahead of them—or more specifically, Alexandra. But for now, I was safe. No one except the Council would know about the potions, and I could continue to bring new food into the village. Now, the larger problem remained: sparring with Cyrus again.
My mind had been focused on other things these past few weeks, and I was even less confident than usual. As best I could, I shook it off, searching for the Warrior instincts I'd been born with. Deep in my brain, there was a burning urge to wipe the smirk off Cyrus's face. Most days, I let it remain dormant. But for today, in order to move forward with my life and with Mora, I called it to the forefront.
My sparring partner appeared across from me, looking mostly bored and unaware of my internal monologue. "Well, back again, aren't we?"
"I suppose so," I replied.
"Hope you've got some of those healing potions ready," he said. "I plan on showing off today."
"And that's different from any other day?" I muttered, glancing at the empty box where the Council would be sitting.
"Careful, Gav, you're addressing the future Guildmaster," he said with narrowing eyes. "Or do you now have designs on my role?"
I cast him a tired look. "No, Cyrus."
Of course, he didn't hear me, or chose not to. "I hope you got a good look at the Council room, because it's the last time you'll ever see it."
I actually chuckled. "You aren't Guildmaster yet, Cyrus. I suggest you don't let Alexandra hear how easily you take her position."
The woman in question appeared between us in a puff of purple.
"Begin!"
Cyrus must've been nursing an attack spell, because he let it fly before she'd finished the word. This time, I wasn't eager to be his victim, so I batted it away.
"Oh-ho, looking alive today, are we?" he said.
Alive, indeed. Perhaps this is what she wanted—a show from me. Well, a show was what I would give her. Perhaps if I tired Cyrus out, we could end this quicker.
It had been a long time since I'd really pushed the limits of what I could do magically. As Cyrus did his best to outsmart me, I found him lacking. He would feint left, I'd go right to meet him before he could land a blow. He'd transport to another part of the ring, I'd follow his magical signature, having a spell ready when he got there. Perhaps it was true what Alexandra had said—Cyrus was my inferior in intellect.
"Oof!" But power, that he had. He'd finally managed to land a spell in my gut. I slid back a few feet, falling to one knee with the pain of it. Before I could even react, another came in its place, sending me backward. I at least had the presence of mind to transport myself to another side of the ring—but just as I appeared, I was hit again.
"Must be quicker than that." Cyrus barely looked winded.
I gritted my teeth and straightened, struggling to appear as unfazed as he did. But I was already bruising, and I could taste blood in my mouth.
"I'll let you take a swing at me," he said, bowing. "Just to make it interesting."
"I don't need your pity," I snapped.
"Very well."
His magic, dark gray and dangerous, rushed toward me, and I thrust a barrier forward to protect myself. The pressure built around my ears, and my muscles ached from holding the barrier, but I didn't dare let go. This was my chance to prove myself—and if I didn't…
I felt the crack in my barrier a moment before the full force of Cyrus's magic came upon me. I tumbled head over feet, landing in a tangle on the other end of the ring. And there I lay, panting from exertion and fear.
I'd been sure, in the back of my mind, that if I really tried, I could defeat Cyrus.
But I had tried. I'd given it my all, and he'd still beaten me. Did that mean he really was more powerful? And if so, did he deserve to be Guildmaster over me?
Cyrus showed no outward signs of fatigue as he waited for Alexandra's praise. In that moment, I truly hated him for the first time in my life.
"Cyrus, excellent work," Alexandra said. "I'm still concerned about overconfidence. You act as if you'll never be beaten."
He cast a glance in my direction and his smirk widened. "Yes, Mistress."
"Return to the Manor," she said. "Mop the downstairs floor and dust the library."
"Yes, Mistress."
"And no magic," she said with a warning glare.
"Of course, Mistress." He bowed low and disappeared in a puff of gray smoke.
I remained on the ground, hating myself and my situation. My only way out had failed—I was still trapped. I wouldn't be inducted. I would be an apprentice forever.
"Today was a good start," Alexandra said softly.
"Start?" I scoffed and pushed myself to my feet. "It was pathetic."
"You tried," she said. "That's the first time I've ever seen effort from you in the ring."
I let my shoulders sag. "I still failed. I tried, and I lost."
"Gavon," she said with a bit of a chuckle, "you've been pretending in the sparring ring your entire life. It should come as no surprise that your first attempt at being more than a recipient of attack spells was mediocre. But you hav
e raw power and the mental discipline. What you lack is the training and the will."
I certainly had the will now. "I'll do better."
"I hope so," she said. "You will fight Cyrus for his induction match in one month. If you win, you'll be inducted, too."
I swallowed, hope filling me. "And if I don't win?"
"I've given him permission to kill you," Alexandra said.
Something thudded in the back of my mind. "W-what?"
Death in an induction match was rare—rarer still now that there were only three Warriors. That Alexandra would be so cavalier with it was horrific.
"You'd have Cyrus kill me? Your own son?"
"I would have him persuade you to fight for your life," she said with a steely-eyed glint. "And there's a reason Warriors don't raise their own. As Guildmaster, I must put the needs of the Guild above all else."
"And killing the only other Warrior will do that?"
"He will only kill you if you let him," she replied. "I suggest you don't let him."
Fifteen
She may as well have told me to conquer the world. I was more disciplined than Cyrus—more well-read on strategy and fighting techniques—but it still hadn't mattered. And it wouldn't. I would die and Cyrus would be Guildmaster.
I sucked down a healing potion, wondering why I was even bothering, then transported myself to the tear. With little care, I fell through to the other world, landing under a sky streaked with purples and pinks.
Instead of finding Mora, I walked to the edge of the ocean, the salty breeze warming my face. The water lapped against the shore, and I listened to it, trying to keep despair away. How cruel was it that I'd been given this precious gift only to have it taken away so quickly?
"Gavon!"
I closed my eyes. Mora's voice was a welcome respite from all that had gone wrong. I spun just in time for her to fly into my arms. I inhaled her scent, imprinting it on my brain.
"So guess what…" Although it was dark, there was a smile in her voice. "Mom was so impressed with my grades, she took me off restriction." She grinned brightly as she summoned a carrying case with six bottles in it. "Let's celebrate!"
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