He gives me a smile, and I can’t help but notice it’s lined with pity.
“Let’s first try to concentrate on the parts of the puzzle we might be able to gain insight on.” His eyes go toward the windows. “I suggest we try it now.”
I swallow, shifting my hands in my lap. “Here?”
Ezra’s lips twitch. “I was thinking about the southern courtyard. It’s private, walled in. No one will see.” He tilts his head. “Unless you’re afraid?”
I narrow my eyes at him, standing from my chair. “Lead the way, Magister.”
The wide courtyard is littered with the scattered petals and leaves of magnolia trees. The copse of trees shades the area, their broad, waxyleaves rustling slightly from the morning’s breeze. Sunlight filters through the branches, dappling the stone pathway and the patches of grass beyond. A peaceful scene—if not for the heavy weight pressing on my chest.
Ezra, hands clasped behind his back, surveys the courtyard as if inspecting an army outpost. “Nadya, step to the center,” he instructs, tilting his head toward the open space.
She lifts a brow but obeys, strolling to the middle with an air of exaggerated elegance. “Am I to be sacrificed?” she muses, shooting me a playful grin.
Ezra ignores her and turns to me instead. “I want you to summon the wind—not a storm, not a gust, just a whisper. Gather the petals around Nadya.”
“Am I controlling weather? Or is it simply energy force focused on the petals?”
“Do you have weather-wielding fae in your lineage?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. The mother had telepathy magic, as does my uncle. My grandmother could create illusions, and my great-grandfather had fire-wielding magic, according to what my mother told me when I was young. “I don’t think so.”
“Let’s play it by ear and see how it feels to you.”
I inhale slowly, stretching out my fingers, feeling the energy like a hum beneath my skin. It rises with my breath, coiling inside me, and as I exhale, I release it—a soft pulse outward.
A few petals shift. Then more. Like dancers stirring from a long slumber, they rise from the ground and swirl around Nadya’s boots, climbing higher until they spin at her waist.
Nadya watches them in delighted awe. “Not bad,” she teases, spinning once, sending them twirling outward.
Ezra, seemingly unimpressed, crosses his arms, his eyes narrowed. “Now, have them follow her.”
Nadya scoffs. “I prefer to be chased by roguish men and curvy women.”
“You don’t need my magic for that, my friend,” I say.
I breathe out again, this time with more focus, pushing the magic toward her. The petals obey, drifting in a slow, weightless dance as she takes a few steps. I adjust, keeping them in her wake. With the lift of a finger in the air, I push one up to tickle her cheek.
She gasps, then laughs outright. “You little menace.”
“Run,” Ezra suggests, his tone entirely too amused.
Nadya doesn’t need another invitation. She takes off, laughter ringing through the courtyard, and I chase her—not with my feet, but with my power, urging the petals after her like a playful storm. They catch in her hair, skim her shoulders, flit ahead of her, as if guiding her steps.
She ducks, swerves, and twirls, but they stay with her, and I realize something. I’m not straining. I’m controlling it.
The thought makes me bold. I push a little more, sending the petals rushing at her all at once, blocking her view, and she yelps, losing her footing when she trips over an exposed root. She tumbles onto the grass in an unceremonious heap, laughing breathlessly as I send the last of the petals cascading over her like a silken blanket.
I run toward her, my laughter lifting my spirits.
Until a sharp pain slices through my head like a burning blade. I almost wince but quickly school my features, keeping a smile plastered on my face.
Nadya grins up at me, twigs tangled in her curls, her stomach bouncing up and down as she giggles. “That was fun.”
“Don’t ever say I never brought you flowers,” I tease.
“I’d say that was a success,” Ezra says as he comes closer, offering Nadya a hand and pulling her to her feet.
