I stared at my friend, trying to understand the odd intensity to her warning. “What happened when you lived at court?” There was something she wasn't telling me. “Why did your parents choose to leave?”
Ella stared at the walls in front of us. “Just don't trust them.” She looked anywhere but my face. “Don't trust them, and you can't get hurt.”
WHEN DARREN ARRIVED at the library, I was waiting for him.
“Good, you’re here.” He set down his books. “We have some things to discuss.”
I advanced on him with a huff. “You can’t let Priscilla say those things about me. I don't care if it gets us both expelled, if you don’t defend me next time she does that, I'll tell everyone the truth. I swear it!”
He didn't blink. “What was I supposed to do? Defending you would have only made her hate you more. And you aren't innocent in all of this. You baited her and then practically insinuated you were lying with me instead.”
I blushed. “I didn't mean for her to interpret it that way.”
“Well, everyone did, so I hope you keep in mind that you have only yourself to thank for your tarnished reputation.”
“I'm sure they didn't—”
“Oh, but they did.” He exhaled. “I corrected them, but if the rumor had reached the constable or Master Barclae, you'd have the both of us tossed out of here for misconduct!”
I stared at the floor. “I had no idea.”
Darren's tone fell flat. “Clearly.”
Neither of us spoke for a minute. Then I remembered the other reason I’d been waiting on the prince.
“What did you mean when you told me I was training the wrong way last night?”
The non-heir shot me a look. “If you paid attention to Master Cedric’s lessons, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”
“I tried.” I hated that I’d resorted to pleading. “But nothing he says makes any sense, and he won't show me what I'm doing wrong.”
“You've fallen asleep in his class. Twice.” Darren's expression was unsympathetic. “What did you expect?”
“I don't know.” I bit my lip. “But is that really enough to condemn me? I'm trying. You know that!”
Darren did not reply.
“No one else can help me,” I begged. “Even my brother doesn't know why I can't cast like everyone else. But you do. I know you do. It's why you told me I was training wrong.”
“Even if I did know, why would I help you?”
“Because it's the right thing to do.”
He snorted. “Well, good luck with that.”
“You can't just give someone advice and then not show them how to use it!” I seethed. “It's not advice if it doesn't help them!”
Darren balked. “Well, I certainly wouldn't give it to the girl who has tried to get me tossed out of this place not once but twice now—oh, and let's not forget your most inglorious moment, when you tried to light me on fire.”
“I've made some mistakes.” I met the prince's eyes defiantly. “But you wouldn't have given me advice if you hadn't been feeling guilty about me in the first place.”
Darren regarded me grimly. In that moment, I was aware of how near we were standing. This close, I could smell some sort of wooded musk emitting from his clothes, a mixture of pine and cloves that reminded me of home.
Why did he smell so good while I smelled like days of sweat, no matter how many times I washed? It wasn’t fair.
Hair fell across the prince’s forehead and into his eyes, and for some reason, I kept staring like a fool. I’d never really studied the prince up close. Now, all I could see was the dark garnet and brown of Darren’s irises, which oddly didn't seem quite as opaque as I'd assumed, enclosed in those dark, dark lashes.
And right now, those eyes were doing strange, flippy things to my insides. Things I didn’t like. I felt as if someone had wrenched the ground right out from under me. I wanted it back.
Darren cleared his throat. “Are you done berating me, Ryiah?”
The trance broke, and I stepped back quickly, flushing.
“I…” The prince was looking at me as though I was mad. “See here,” I began again, flustered at my inability to speak.
“You want my help.”
“Yes.” Had I been reduced to a fumbling oaf just because he’d stood a little too close? For the love of the gods, he wasn’t that good-looking.
Okay, maybe he was. But certainly not enough to affect me. I had better taste than arrogant princes.
Pull yourself together. I rolled my shoulders and regarded Darren coolly. “If you show me how to call on my magic, I swear I’ll never bother you again.”
He arched a brow. “As tempting as your offer is, I don’t have time to help every girl who bats her eyes at me.”
“I was not!” My speech impairment was gone as fast as it’d come. “And if you’re really so secure in your own standing here, you wouldn't think twice about helping someone you believe might constitute a threat.”
“You are hardly a threat.” Darren was no longer frowning, and I had the distinct impression he was enjoying the debate. “And you really think the way to charm me into helping you is by insult?”
I glared. “Would you prefer me to fawn over you like every one of your blindsided subjects?”
He didn’t bother to hide his smile. “That would be a nice change.”
“Fine.” I put my hands on my hips and gave my most sickly sweet impression of Priscilla: “O, valiant Darren, brave ruler among men, please help this humble first-year learn. Let me be half as magnificent as yourself.”
“I changed my mind. Humility doesn’t suit you at all.”
I glowered. “Then why ask?”
“Because I’m a prince.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling and groaned. “I’ll help you this once. But not again.”
I nodded. Once was good enough for me.
“Clear a space in the center of the study and come find me when you’re done.”
Minutes later, we were standing across from one another. I kept waiting for Darren to talk, but he was too busy studying me, probably taking in my disheveled appearance and everything else, with a skeptical expression on his face.
“Do you know how to light a fire without magic?” he finally asked.
“Of course.”
“Have you ever done it with flint?”
Really? I didn’t bother to reply—he was the highborn not me.
“Well, we’re going to use flint as part of a metaphor for how to cast. Master Cedric has been saying the same sort of thing for weeks, but as we know—” His mouth twitched. “—your naps were more important.”
I cringed.
“When you cast magic, you need to be picturing what you plan to evoke in your mind. The stronger the idea, the better your casting will be. That’s where the senses come in.” He looked me up and down. “You can't expect to cast something you don't understand. What is something you can describe well?”
“Fire.” I felt like a fool for not coming up with anything else, but I couldn't help it. Fire was the one thing I'd been able to successfully conjure time after time.
“How inspired.” His eyes narrowed. “Now describe it to me with your senses.”
“Um, well, it's hot. It, uh, doesn't really have a taste. At least I don’t think it does. When things get burned, there's a charred flavor… It's chalky and bitter. Sour? Flames feel like wisps of air. It looks like—” I froze as a thought crossed my mind: like the color of your eyes.
I looked away from Darren. “It looks like the fragmented tips of a red and yellow kite billowing in the wind.” Definitely not anything else.
“You are missing two senses.” Darren seemed unperturbed by my haphazard ramblings. “What does it sound like? What do you smell?”
“It sounds like low… clapping? It smells repugnant. Like wood smoke and something sweet? Spun sugar and smoke.”
“Now, what do you want to do with the fire?” he asked. “What type of casting
do you want to perform? Keep in mind it should be simple.”
“What about holding it in my hand? I've seen people—”
“Do you want to burn yourself?”
I shook my head.
“Then don't try to do what you've seen others do. Their castings are more complicated than they appear. Try lighting a candle instead.”
“Do I actually need a candle?”
“You are a beginner, so yes.” He tossed me a taper. “Now think about the act of lighting a candle—but don’t do it yet.”
“How…?” I paused, fully aware that there had been no candle in his hand a second ago.
“Yes, well, I’m not a beginner.” There again, that tone. I wanted to punch him. “Now think back to how you would light a fire naturally. This image you are evoking is the flint. You need to focus on its details, using all the senses you described, in your mind. The ‘steel’ that you strike this ‘flint' with is your will. That's the easy part because it is rare for someone to cast something they do not want. If you have desire, you have will.”
Apparently, I’d only ever been doing one side of the equation. But in my defense, the senses had been more important to a fight. The idea that I hold this complicated projection in my mind to cast… Alex had probably assumed I was already doing that.
“It all comes down to those two things: steel and flint. The resulting spark is the physical manifestation of your magic. If you have potential, it should be effortless. If you are struggling, it's a safe bet you are wasting your time trying to practice magic in the first place.”
I glared at him. “Maybe I struggle because I didn't have a lifetime of mage tutors like you.”
He shot me a condescending look. “I was supposed to be a knight. I never even considered becoming a mage until four years ago. I would hardly consider that a ‘lifetime' of tutors. The only reason I am here is because the palace mage insisted he’d be a fool to overlook my powers. It wasn't privilege that got me the training. It was my potential.”
“Becoming a knight isn’t so different than a mage. Most of the training applies.” Me and my big mouth. I wanted to swallow the words the second I spoke them aloud.
“Every village has a local regiment of soldiers.” He leveled my challenge with one of his own. “That’s free training right there. Tell me why you aren’t better at Piers’s drills? Seems like someone wasted their youth.”
I took a deep breath and told myself what Darren had to teach me was more important than mauling the non-heir to death.
Darren’s lips curved up in a smirk. “Well, it appears you have some self-control after all.”
I stayed silent.
The non-heir gestured to the taper. “Now, light the candle.”
This was it. I rolled the candle in my palm, letting its smooth, waxy surface calm my racing nerves. I felt self-conscious with Darren watching me, but I hastily blocked out those thoughts, letting my anxiety trickle away until all that remained was a vision of fire. I felt its searing heat in my mind. I saw the sputtering flames. It smelled adversely sweet, and my tongue recoiled at the taste of scalded flesh. I reached further into my mind and heard the sharp sound of crackling flames against wood.
I stared at the candle's wick with the image of fire locked in my mind. I imagined the cotton string embraced by flames, all of my senses engulfing the candle's end, a tiny flame sputtering that would carry all of my fire's features.
Please.
The sting of scalding wax hit my knuckles, and I shrieked. The candle in my hand had a flame protruding from its tip.
“I did it!” I could have screamed.
“Yes,” Darren agreed, stepping forward to close the distance between us. “You did.”
My breath caught and I couldn’t move.
The prince leaned closer, and I froze, heart beating wildly in my chest.
And then Darren blew out the flame and took a step back. “Now do it again.”
“What did you do that for?” I sputtered.
“That was too easy. I want to see you do it under duress. It's much harder to concentrate when you have distractions.”
“Like what?” I was instantly suspicious.
A slow smile spread across his face. “How about I repay your favor from last night?”
What favor?
Darren snapped his finger. I glanced around frantically but didn’t see any changes to the room. “What did you—” The words caught in my throat as I noticed a long shadow quickly making its way across the dark marble floor. As it trailed closer, I cried out involuntarily.
The shadow was a herd of enormous, hairy brown spiders that was racing toward me.
No. My legs went numb. Where did they come from? I hated spiders.
“The funny thing about magic,” Darren said, eyes dancing wickedly, “is that you can’t control the mind. But if you know what a spider doesn’t like, you can drive it out of hiding.” He grinned. “I'll send them back the moment you light that candle.”
I swallowed as I looked to the incoming mob. “Can't you try something else?”
“Stop making excuses.”
My eyes shot to the extinguished candle in my hand. The wick was tinged black from the previous flame, and I willed it to light once again. Please.
I tried to visualize a fire using all of my senses, but it was much harder to actualize with the pounding in my chest. I couldn’t stop thinking about those spiders getting closer and closer.
Why did he have to choose them? The anxiety had my blood racing, and I kept losing focus to peek down at the ground.
“Ignore the spiders, Ryiah!”
I bit my lip, and inadvertently my gaze slid down to the insects again. They had just reached my boots and were beginning to climb. My insides froze.
“RYIAH!”
I shut my eyes and tried to picture a fire. The image came swimming back. I took a deep breath and tried to drown out the desire to run screaming and shaking the creatures off my legs. I recalled the candle and opened my eyes, practically throwing my impression at it with a stifled huff.
Instantly the candle's wick caught fire, but it was quickly diminished as a mountain of wax spilled out over my hands. Not only had the wick caught fire, the entire candle had melted. There was nothing left but wax. I glanced down at my tunic and saw the spiders were scurrying back to wherever they’d come from.
Thank the gods. I glared at the prince, hands on my hips. “You didn't have to use spiders.”
“I could have used fire. Or a dagger cutting you up, slowly.” His eyes dared me to challenge him again. “I chose something harmless.”
Spiders weren’t harmless if you got bitten. I told him as much.
“How will you get better,” the prince countered, “if you aren’t willing to face your fears? I did you a favor. Maybe now you'll stop napping during Cedric's lessons.”
I peeled the wax off my hands, wincing at the swollen flesh beneath. Darren was obviously enjoying this lesson too much. “I haven't done that in days.”
“Well, I’ve done my part.” Darren waved a dismissing hand and sat down in his chair with his books.
Over so soon? I still had questions.
“Can you answer one more thing?”
“What?” The word was drawn out and clipped at the same time.
“How did you know I was training wrong?” I bit my lip. “You seemed to know something was wrong before you'd even seen me cast.”
“It was a guess. And after you attacked me with that fire, it was pretty obvious you didn't know what you were doing.”
“How come no one knew how to help me? Even my brother couldn’t help and he’s my twin.”
Darren narrowed his eyes. “You really know nothing about magic, do you?” He didn't wait for a response. “You can pain cast, Ryiah. Most people can't. Your magic operates at a different level. You can't expect the same rules to apply to us.”
“Pain cast?” My voice squeaked.
Darren studied his fingers
. “For the weak, castings come easy. Projections are harder when you have two different sources of magic. Most only have one, and that’s enough. Your brother is obviously one of them.”
“But where does our magic come from? Why don’t the masters teach us this?”
“The masters don’t teach it to first-years because it’s advanced. They care more about foundation.” He exhaled. “And pain casting comes from instinct. It’s why your natural response is to call on will instead of taking the time to build up a projection before you cast. Your second source wants to take over the first. People like you and me have to work harder to project because we are fighting our natural response.”
Was that what I was doing—taming my magic when I cast the way Cedric taught? It was certainly harder than picking up a knife.
I frowned. “So why do we bother fighting it?”
“Because it’s reckless.” Darren gave me a hard look. “The powers you exert are unpredictable and much harder to control. Your flames didn't stop last night, did they?”
I sighed. “No.”
“Exactly. It's dangerous, and you should be grateful you haven't lost a limb.”
I winced.
“Of course, if that's your intention, it would be very amusing to watch.”
I threw my quill at his head before I even had a chance to think. The prince caught it with a grin.
For a moment, I faltered.
He has a nice smile.
Arrrrrgh. Where in the name of the gods did that come from?
I ducked my head and started toward the third floor’s study. I couldn’t care less whether the bloody prince had a nice smile. The only thing that mattered was his help and my success at the Academy.
7
“Faster!” Piers’s roar boomed across the stadium. “All of you are pathetic excuses for war mages. I've seen horses with more spirit than you!”
He’s trying to kill us.
I swallowed back a mouthful of bile and continued running along the stadium’s track. I was a limping fowl chased by a pack of rabid wolves, only instead of the beasts of the forest, I had Piers's insults tearing me limb from limb. My legs burned, my arms ached, and my entire chest was on fire.
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