Caelum was already focusing his magic.
He had to be careful. He had to be really,reallycareful with his magic, with the coiling green and gold flames that always wanted to do things he didn’t want them to do. When he wasn’t careful, bad things happened. He went too far. He broke things.
He couldn’t break this.
He focused with all of his body, all of his being, his breath held in a tight knot in his chest, hands clenched, heart thudding slowly. He stared at the thick-faced mage. He had to do this fast. Rolf was clever and mean and quick. He would figure out what Caelum was doing if he took too long. He would know.
Caelum focused on his scarred face, the dark eyes, the heavy brows, the thick lips. He gritted his teeth.
Control it. Control it. Don’t let it out too much.
Fear nearly made him lose it, anyway. Rolf was right, of course.
Now was the time for manipulation spells.
His father told him to pick a new spell, every day.
Inevitably, his father began demandingmorespells, more complex magic, darker magic, more control over every aspect of the magic Caelum knew how to use. He would ask for two spells, three, four, five… more than Caelum could remember. Spells he didn’t understand, that wanted and cajoled and demanded things that made no sense to him.
Caelum usually tried to remember at least eight new ones every day, to be safe.
But this one, he’d learned for himself.
He found it inside one of the heavy books he’d pulled out of the castle’s library shelves. He’d been poring through that book every day for weeks now, usually for part of the day and much ofthe night. As it wasn’t one his father had given him specifically, Caelum knew he might notice it gone and demand it back.
Dornröschen…he thought at the muscle-corded, scarred, black-haired wizard silently.
He’d experimented with words, without words.
The words helped him focus. They gave him something to hold onto.
He used the strange-sounding word now to push himself into the other wizard. It worked so quickly, so perfectly, it nearly frightened him.
Rolf slumped on the blue and white, brocaded piece of furniture.
His eyes rolled back. He didn’t move.
Caelum blinked.
He stared at the wizard, terrified he’d killed him.
He’d killed things before, on accident.
Before he could rush forward, check the beating of the mage’s heart, or listen for his breath, like he’d learned to do… a huffed snort came from the muscular chest. A snore rose loudly, laboriously, gratingly, from the wide, flaring nostrils. Caelum held his breath as the wizard inhaled, then snored out another, louder breath.
Delight broke over him.
Caelum grinned, then crowed in delight. He jumped up and down where he stood next to the blue-and-white striped chair that faced the gardens. He threw up his arms and crowed again.
Such a simple thing. Such a tiny, simple thing.
Still, he didn’t wait.
He darted out past the edge of the patio.
He ran through the rose bushes, past the lilacs and snapdragons, through more austere and precisely cut bushes and trees. His heart rose, the deeper he ran into the grounds. Hislegs pumped faster. His face grew damp with sweat under the morning sun. He reached the field and his heart burst with joy.
He was free. For a short, tiny, whisper of time, he was free.
