“I have a lot more control than that,” Tor assured them both. He gave Larexa an encouraging smile. “By the time you’re ready to shield an actual person, so will you.”
Magic could exert a tremendous amount of force.
Larexa had to sit down for a minute, and Tor slid down the wall next to her. She was either the fluffiest, sweetest person in the entire world, or the thing she wouldn’t tell himreally had scarred her badly. Even Pel looked concerned, and he tried so hard to act like he didn’t care about his siblings.
Tor reached out a hand, and after a moment, she slipped hers into his. He squeezed it. “I would never let you hurt someone else.”
“But what if I lost control?” she demanded, sounding close to tears. “What if I did something wrong?”
“It’s not impossible,” Tor conceded. “We’re all capable of making mistakes. But that’s why you’re training. To learn how to use your magic properly. And I’m going to make Pel and Bavil promise to practice with you even once I’m gone to make sure you don’t forget everything.”
She offered him a weak smile.
“Hopefully, you’ll never have to use this shield,” he told her earnestly. “I hope that we stay at peace and the most exciting thing that I get to do with my avatar is practice with it and look hot while I’m doing it.” She let out a wet-sounding chuckle, and Pel scoffed. Tor flashed them a grin before his expression became more serious. “But if you do ever have to use it, it will be because you desperately need to protect yourself, so I wouldn’t have much sympathy for whoever you blocked in that shield. We’re going to keep drilling until you know how to safely erect it and pull it down. And having seen how your fingers move over those blasted keys, I know that you have a lot of control!”
She offered another smile, still weak but more genuine.
“My brother and I practiced this for years. I’m not saying you need to put someone in a shield tomorrow, all right?”
She blew out a breath. “All right.”
“But I think that might be enough for today, what do you think?”
She nearly melted into the floor. “Yes, thank you.”
He helped her to her feet. Her hand was trembling.
“Why don’t I get you something to drink?” he suggested.
She tugged her hand out of his grasp. “No, no, I’ll go. The walk will do me good.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, offered him something that was almost her normal smile, and slipped out of the room. Tor was reasonably confident that she just wanted to be alone, but he reminded himself to go check on her later.
He was left in the room with Pel, who asked after a moment, “Could you have done that to me?”
He looked at the other man, who gestured at the crushed cup.
Tor made a face. “You and your inherent magic would have fought back. It takes a lot more force to crush a human than it does to crush a cup.”
He felt queasy just at the thought.
“But in theory,” the other man pursued, not seeming to be perturbed by the image. His gaze was very intense. “You could have crushed me, if you’d driven the magic in on all sides.”
“In theory,” Tor agreed reluctantly.
Magic could be used to protect, like he was showing Larexa, but it could be used for offense, too. It was why all Illustrious and Extraordinary guards were taught to Mantle themselves, their shields, and their weapons.
Tor and Var had been more than a bit wild as they learned all their magic could do, but after that first battle with the avatars, their mother had made clear to them what would happen if they destroyed anything—or goddess forbid, hurt another person. She’d shared just a few stories from the war, and those had stuck with Tor.
His offense was always with the goal of protecting his people.
“It’s not just about what wecando, though,” Tor tried to explain. “It’s about what wechooseto do.”
Pel eyed him skeptically. “But I can’tchooseto do any of that.”
“But you could kill me,” Tor pointed out. “In theory, I mean. We’re all capable of violence against one another.”
