by Zandra Pope
Her Stolen Magic
Zandra Pope
Castle and Cross
Contents
April 1, the year of my birth
April 1 of my tenth year
Letter to the Magic Tribunal
April 1 of my eleventh year
Letter to Greta Verity from Illysian Academy
April 1 of my thirteenth year
August 1, on the fifth month of my seventeenth year
Blood Oath
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
April 1, the year of my birth
When the doctor yelled, “It’s another girl,” my mom thought it was an April Fool’s joke.
My parents planned for Ava. They decorated her pink nursery with handmade quilts and googly eyed stuffed animals and a single crib for a single baby. I was a secret during the entire nine months and a surprise when I was born.
“Twins,” gasped my mother. The doctor handed me to my dad since my mom already cradled Ava.
My dad beamed. “What a happy accident you are,” he said to me.
At his words, I burst into tears.
Ava had to stay at the hospital for a week because she had complications. They say I cried the entire time, stopping only to eat. I wasn’t such a happy accident after all.
I stopped crying when Ava came home and they put her next to me.
“Isn’t that sweet,” cooed my mom, peering over the crib rail, smiling through the dark circles under her eyes. “Greta knew a part of her was missing.”
April 1 of my tenth year
Everything changed on my tenth birthday. Among the pink and purple wrapped boxes, was one containing a pair of coordinating swimming suits. I unwrapped the box, and I took first pick — the pink tankini with orange flowers.
Ava got the blue tankini with little white flowers. She hid her disappointment. She was good at hiding things.
In our room that night Ava asked, “Greta, wanna trade?”
Hugging my suit to my chest I shook my head. “I like this one better.”
With a huff, Ava sat down hard on the edge of her bed. “Me too. I wish mine wasn’t blue. I wish it was pink and purple.”
Like magic — because it was magic — her suit changed from blue and white to pink and purple. For a split second, Ava and I stared at the piece of lycra in her hand, open mouthed.
“Oh my gosh, Greta, we’ve got our magic!”
We squealed with delight, jumping on our beds and all around the room before stopping breathlessly to test my magic.
“I wish my hair was blonde,” I giggled.
Ava watched, clapping her hands and jumping up and down, a huge grin plastered on her face. My hair didn’t change.
“That was too hard. Try something else.” She thrust my swimming suit at me. “Change it to green and yellow.”
I made a face. “No. I don’t want to look like a frog. I like these colors.”
“Change your jeans, then.”
“I wish my jeans were pink,” I said, screwing my eyes shut. I listened for Ava’s squeal of delight at my magic, but the sound never came.
Ava grabbed my arms. “I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s go tell mom and dad.” We raced downstairs.
“Mom! Dad! I got my magic,” crowed Ava.
My parents, who were sitting at the kitchen table sneaking another piece of birthday cake, lept up and ran to hug — not just Ava — but me. My dad crushed me in his strong arms; then my mom grabbed me in a big hug.
“I’m so proud of you two!” said my mom.
“And so early,” said my dad. Normally magic didn’t manifest until kids were thirteen or fourteen. This was a thrilling birthday gift.
“I turned my swimming suit a different color,” said Ava holding it up like a trophy.
My mom ruffled Ava’s hair. “You didn’t like the blue, huh?”
Ava tucked her head sheepishly. “Pink is my favorite color.”
My mom and dad laughed, and the conversation continued, my parents assuming that I had gotten my magic, too. I didn’t correct them. Neither did Ava. It didn’t seem important.
My magic would come.
Letter to the Magic Tribunal
To Whom it May Concern,
This letter is being written to fulfill Code 100a of the Magical Identification Law.
Two minor children under our care have manifested full magical power. On April 1, Greta Verity and Ava Verity, demonstrated their magical aptitude by speaking the word for a color change. Both girls exhibit sound mind and above average academic performance.
As their parents, we attest that we are in good standing with the Magic Tribunal and are permitted under the full extent of the law to raise magicals.
We swear to this, with full knowledge of the penalty for falsification and legally bind ourselves to the rules and orders of the Magic Tribunal for the care of these girls.
In testament to the voracity of this letter, we sign our names below in blood.
Sincerely,
Penelope Verity
and
Congressman Brian Verity
April 1 of my eleventh year
“Come on, Greta,” urged Ava. “You can do this. I know you can.”
I screwed my eyes shut and whispered, “Light.” I waited with blooming hope, keeping my eyes closed because my latest theory at to why I didn’t have magic was that the magic liked to sneak up on people and surprise them.
“Are you really trying?” asked Ava.
I snapped my eyes open. A white pillar candle squatted on an overturned turquoise plastic crate. The wick was cold, untouched by heat, light, or magic. My hope crumbled, like a crushed flower in a fist.
Ava leaned away from the candle and groaned. “You’re not even trying.”
“Yes, I am.” I fought to keep the tears out of my eyes.
“Don’t cry. It’s okay. I’ll help you. I’ll always help you, Greta.” To demonstrate. Ava whispered, “Light.” The wick lit.
“Pink,” she said. The flame danced pink.
“Blue.” The flame shifted to a beautiful royal blue.
“Girls,” my mom knocked at our bedroom door and opened it. She smiled at the dancing blue candle flame. “That’s lovely.”
“Greta did it,” lied Ava smoothly for the hundredth time this past year.
I nodded. “Pink,” I said.
The candle shifted color once again.
“I’m heading to the store,” said my mom. “I’ll only be gone for a half hour. No television.”
When she left, Ava nudged me with her shoulder and grinned. She loved tricking people, especially Mom, but it frustrated me.
“I need to tell her. I should come clean about not having my magic, yet.”
Ava shook her head. “You can’t. Mom and Dad already sent the letter to the Tribunal. You just have to stick with me until your magic shows up.”
Letter to Greta Verity from Illysian Academy
Dear Greta Verity,
It is our pleasure to extend to you this letter of invitation to attend Illysian Academy on
scholarship for all four years of your high school career.
Illysian Academy has a three hundred year history of service and training within the magical community. We offer only the brightest magical students a place to shine. Former graduates have gone on to perform great acts of service to the magical community and the world at large including Former U.S. Secretary of State, Margaret Jaspar, recipient of the Nobel Prize for Literature, Henry Ailswith, Prime Minister of Great Britain, Charles Chadwick, countless members of world parliaments and congressional bodies, and every Magic Tribunal President for the last three hundred years.
We boast a vigorous academic program as well as the most comprehensive magical training available.
All students are expected to board at the school for the duration of their time as students.
We at Illysian Academy take a particular pride in adhering to the Code of Magical Ethics. Those found to be in violation will be expelled.
Yours in magical excellence,
Gloria Trubinvale, O.C.R.
Headmaster, Illysian Academy
April 1 of my thirteenth year
“I can’t keep doing this,” I said, slamming my book shut. Golden scripted words mocked me from the cover proclaiming, Discover Your Magic.
Ava wrapped her arms around me. “What’s the problem now?”
Hot tears ran down my face. “I don’t have magic. That’s always the problem.”
“Your magic will come, Greta. Don’t lose hope. I believe in you.”
My sister, who had grown into a willowy, blonde Barbie doll looked down at me through her glittering silver eyes. I felt pitiful and powerless.
“You’re the only one who believes in me,” I sniffed.
Ava crouched so her eyes were level with mind. “Listen to me.” She took my face in her hands and forced me to look at her.
“What?” I said morosely.
“You’re a late bloomer. It happens. I’m here for you. I’ll make sure you’re totally fine. No one knows our secret. No one knows you don’t have magic yet.”
“I know.” I hated the way my voice came out in a whimper. I hated the way classes stressed me out. Ava had never let me down, but the longer this went on, the more trapped I felt.
“What happens if I never get it? What if I’m a —”
“Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. Everyone gets their magic.” She smiled. “Hang in there.”
My parents had sworn I had magic with a blood oath. I should have said something. I should have told them the truth, but Ava assured me it was only a matter of time.
She always said, “We’re identical twins, Greta. You’ll get your magic. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Ava was right. It wasn’t a big deal.
If only we had known….
August 1, on the fifth month of my seventeenth year
To: Tobias E. Waite, O.C.R., Tribunal President,
This letter is being written to fulfill Code 14b of the new Truth in Magic Act.
I, Greta, Verity, being of sound mind and body, do hereby attest to being a full magical.
My academic performance is passing. My magical ability is above average.
I attest that my parents are in good standing with the Tribunal and were permitted under the full extent of the law to raise magicals.
I swear to the truth of this letter, with full knowledge of the penalty for falsification and legally bind myself to the rules and orders of the Tribunal for the duration of my magical life.
In testament to the voracity of this letter, I sign my name in blood.
Greta Verity
Blood Oath
The blood oath I sent to the Tribunal was a lie.
1
On my way to class, I passed a group of boys, all of them basketball players — and I do mean players. Jeremy, the captain, pulled his sunglasses down his nose and watched me as I passed. He gave me a slight nod of recognition before returning to the conversation. My face grew hot, and I hurried past the knot of testosterone before I embarrassed myself.
Ava was supposed to meet me on the main floor of our dorm and walk with me to class, but she didn’t show. It wasn’t the end of the world or anything, it’s just that I didn’t love walking around campus by myself. Being the only non-magical at an elite magical boarding school would make anyone uncomfortable.
The fact that everyone thought I had magic made things even worse. I was constantly afraid of being outed as a forger, or worse, branded a Void. Either way, I’d bring total humiliation on my family. My parents would lose their jobs and their position in the magical community. Ava would be expelled.
After all, my parents and I had made blood oaths. The magical community took blood oaths seriously.
“Hey Greta,” Jeremy’s deep voice fluttered the butterflies in my stomach. I could listen to him say my name all day.
Get a grip, Greta, I told myself. Assuming an impassive expression, I turned and said, “What?”
“I’m running tomorrow morning. Want to join me?”
I nearly fell over. Was I alive? My heart pounded in my chest. Yes, I was alive. I glanced down at my body, still short and troll-like. I wasn’t literally a troll; I just felt like a troll — especially when I stood next to my sister.
I raised my hand and pointed to myself. “Me?”
Jeremy laughed. “Of course, Stupid. Interested?”
My mouth hung open as I wondered why the god of the basketball team wanted to go on a run with me. Did he like me?
“Sure,” I said. My voice sounded normal, surprising me.
“Great.” His perfect white teeth shone in the sunlight. I wished I could see his gorgeous brown eyes, but his dark sunglasses kept them hidden.
Swoon.
“See you,” I said. I’ve got this. I’ve totally got this, I assured myself as I walked right off the path, and fell flat on my face.
“Gotta watch that first step,” he shouted. All the guys laughed.
I laughed along with them, pushing myself off the ground. “Silly me,” I said like a total moron. “Well, see you around.” I gave them a weird floppy wave, like my hand was a dolphin flipper.
“See you in five minutes, in class,” he said.
“Right.” I stumbled as I stepped back on to the path. What was I, drunk? I looked like an idiot.
“I can get you a walker,” he said.
“I could use one.”
“You could move into a nursing home,” said one of his buddies, Oliver.
I laughed. “Yup. Okay. Well, see you guys in class and around, if you’re not in class with me. You know. Casual.”
Casual? Why did I say that? I took my next few steps like someone doing a sobriety test. Once I found my legs, I hurried across campus to my class. Darn it, where was Ava? That never would have happened if she had been there to prop me up. I had made a total fool of myself.
Now, I’d spend the entire day watching my phone, waiting for Jeremy to “suddenly remember” he was running with someone who didn’t fall off the sidewalk and who could carry on an intelligent conversation.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have tons of experience around guys. I was friends with a lot of them, but that’s where it ended. Ava, on the other hand, was the one the guys always asked out. Being asked to go running was new territory for me.
As I passed the library, screams derailed my train of thought. A second-floor window shattered. I jumped back as glass rained down in piercing shards. A ladder-backed chair hit the ground a few feet away from me and exploded, shooting slivers of wood in every direction.
As soon as the glass stopped falling, I looked up. Thick, black smoked curled out of the broken window. A girl leaned out, gasping for air, her hands and face smeared with blood and black soot.
“Help,” she cried.
Any magical worth her stuff could have rescued the girl by all sorts of means. Beginners could enhance the ivy climbing the building and create a ladder for the girl. More advanced students could re
shape the shards of glass and wood into a makeshift staircase. And the most powerful magicals, like my twin sister, could levitate the girl to safety in a heartbeat.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t do any of those things.
“Help,” she cried again.
Why didn’t she help herself? Everyone here was magical. She should just get herself out. Maybe she was in shock.
“Please,” the girl shouted down to me, between gasping coughs. “Do something.”
“Um, right. I’ll just — do — something. Gotta think of the right word,” I said stalling for time.
From a distance, I heard Ava shout, “Alight!”
Ava’s magic lifted the girl up and over the jagged glass left in the window frame and floated her gently through the air to the ground where she collapsed.
What happened?” asked Ava, as we ran to the girl.
“The window exploded.”
Ava turned to the girl. “Where are you injured?”