Rigel waited a moment, then nodded—acknowledging everything my thanks meant.
I gave him a super awkward smile as I tried not to ogle his abs, then closed the door.
Okay, maybe the “life advice” vampire wasn’t too far off. Maybe we are friends.
* * *
While I agreedto Skye telling me to take on Lord Linus as my teacher for my supplementary magic classes, I’d been planning to jettison him within days—I just had to give him enough time to prove his incompetence.
However, after two weeks of classes, even I had to admit the guy was a lot more knowledgeable than I would have thought.
And even though I purposely scheduled our classes for early mornings—or at least whatotherpeople would consider early mornings, as Rigel had witnessed I was usually up before five these days—he never once arrived late.
Lord Linus rubbed his chin as he watched me rotate a glass bottle, spiraling the last piece of a healing spell into it. “You’re doing well.”
I frowned as I tied the spell off and watched the magic dissolve into the liquid, creating a healing potion. “It’s a very weak spell. I can only make the lowest graded kind of potions with it.”
“Yes, but you haven’t been trained in potion making,” he reminded me. “This is as well as a beginner can expect to do.”
I cautiously sniffed the potion.
Most potions tasted amazing, but my potion smelled faint. The raspberry scent I was supposed to reproduce was muted.
Is it even capable of curing a papercut like this?I tried to brush off the nagging sensation that this—my practice and my magic—would never be enough.
“It’d help, you know, if you told me exactly what you want,” Lord Linus said. “While you’re able to cast a low-grade healing spell to create potions, it’s obvious your magic is far better applied to taming your pets, and you’ve gotten fiercely good at barriers.”
“I know. I wasn’t very good at potions even when I took my magic classes at the Curia Cloisters as a kid. It’s just…” I looked out over the Night Realm—where we’d held all of our magic lessons. I’d chosen the spot because it was way less populated and I didn’t have to worry about accidentally hurting someone, but also because although the castle was crumbling and the plants were shriveled, I’d come to love the beauty of the quiet place.
I glanced at the sky, and my shoulders sagged as I studied the thousands of stars hanging there. “The Night Realm is shrinking, and I’m getting attacked. I need to be ready so I can stop our lands from disappearing and keep others from getting hurt.”
“That’s a pretty tall order,” Lord Linus said. “At its base, fae magic is hard to wield like a weapon. Wizard magic is a lot easier to strike with—it’s faster, and wizards can use the elements. We fae either have to be more physically trained—like Rigel—or more…strategic.”
I set the potion down on the table we’d assembled for today’s lesson. “I know the barrier needs to be my main concern, but I would have thought that to be Queen of the Night Court I’d need strong magic.” I picked up the next liquid filled bottle that was waiting for a healing spell—when you mixed up the ingredients it was better to batch them and pour a bunch at once, so I had several more to bespell—and wondered how much I could tell him.
Lord Linus narrowed his eyes and studied me. “You have strong magic, Leila. Becoming queen only would have amplified it.”
Unlike the barrier spell—which was all about throwing a lot of magic into a very simple but solid spell, potion work required lots of fine tuning. You had to drizzle the magic in, like a barista making latte art. I rotated the container as I slowly poured magic into the vial, watching my purple magic swirl through the potion. “What do you mean by that?”
Lord Linus sat on the little bit of the stone patio bannister that hadn’t crumbled. “Since you became queen, every blade of grass in the Night Realm, every star you see in the sky above us, every Night Court fae—noble or common—resonates with your power. It began when the night mares bound you, and it’s what called the glooms and shades to your side.”
“Wasn’t that my natural magic?”
Lord Linus shook his head. “Your natural magic might have helped you win them over faster, but they came because they felt your power call them. They stayed because they likeyou.”
“But it’s not like I have magic myself,” I said. “I just use artifacts to wield the wild magic.”
“As all fae who use magic do,” Lord Linus said. “But you still have an innate power and magic—it’s your natural magic, but it’s also what makes your reign unique and individualistic to you. Your whole Court will tune into your power, and that can build them up, or shatter the whole realm.” He motioned to the crumbling castle for emphasis.
“Technically, then, I should have more power because I’m queen,” I said slowly. “Even though I don’t feel like there’s a difference in my magic level?”
Lord Linus frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Everything feels the same way it always has,” I said. “I don’t feel new gusts of power or resonating or whatever.”
“My understanding is limited, but there ought to be a significant difference in using your royal artifact than a regular artifact.” Lord Linus rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, his face—the handsome, male version of my own—lined with concern.
He acts like a clown, but then I see him like this…
