“Your magic is interesting, definitely. I’ve never seen anything like it. But there are a lot of powerful Mages here, far beyond our capabilities. If the Grand Arch Magus wanted power, it’d make sense to appeal to them.”
“Maybe he is.”
“Maybe, but he’s taken a peculiar interest in you specifically.” She put a finger to her cheek. “Curious.”
I buried myself under my pillow. “I do not want to speak of Alandris anymore.”
“Alandris, huh?” She giggled. “Get some rest, Nairu.”
I knew she was teasing me based on my use of his name rather than his title, but I didn’t have the energy to fight back, so I would have to own my little slip up. I grumbled something indiscernible and failed at my attempt to toss a pillow in her direction.
Because Alandris had “important meetings,” he canceled morning lessons, and now, having returned for afternoon lessons with a horrible attitude, all the Mages wished he’d called off the entire day. He was a strict teacher in general, but today he was letting nothing slip. We’d transitioned to forming weapons from our magic, and when Quinn had produced a wobbly blade, Alandris had snapped it in half with his bare hands. Since it had been Quinn as the target, I’d enjoyed watching it unfold, but I was not looking forward to having that temper directed at me, and given my shortcomings, it was bound to happen.
Elle had managed a wooden club surrounded by spirals of sharp, jagged thorns. Having mastered that in no time at all, she was now focused on getting the thorns to lash out and latch on to something when she swung the club. She was frustratingly perfect sometimes.
By comparison, my sword—in the loosest sense of the word—was a sad, pathetic excuse for a weapon. Though far more solid than Quinn’s, it was the length and width of a letter opener. If I had inhuman speed and precision, I might be ableto jab someone in a vital spot, but slashing anything was out of the question. In actual combat, if I ended up close enough to someone to need to use my shadowy letter opener, I’d be better off with a real dagger.
The purpose of our lesson was to create a functional weapon with reasonable range, without expending too much energy. Imbuing it with a magical element would make it stronger than traditional metal. When a brave Mage asked why we couldn’t hurl massive spheres of said element at our opponents, Alandris had scowled and explained the importance of conserving our magical energy. Spheres of raw magic equaled quick exhaustion, which equaled quicker death.
The temptation to hide behind the nearby potted plant overcame me when Alandris came to inspect my progress. Based on Elle’s whispered ‘good luck’, I knew I was about to get eaten alive. I gave one last push to my magic in an attempt to turn my letter opener into at least a dagger-sized creation. Nothing. I was considering dismissing it and showing nothing at all when I heard his voice behind me.
“It’s not awful,” he said in careful consideration, and with less bite than I’d expected. “It’s also not good.”There it was.
“Thank you,” I replied before my brain could recognize that was the wrong thing to say.
“You should spend more time practicing on your own. I’m sure Luelle would be happy to help you. She often tutors the other Mages who are struggling.”
What a kind way to say ‘because I don’t want to help you anymore’ and ‘you’re bad at this’.
We were to have our second private lesson the previous evening, but I received a letter canceling the session. There had been no explanation, but the message was clear. The investment required to train me for the potential—not guaranteed—benefit of power wasn’t worth the risk. It was hard to blame him whenI’d injured him and then promptly thereafter had a breakdown in his study.
I was annoyed, yes. He’d been kind in the moment it’d happened. Though, I supposed it would’ve been irrationally villainous to ignore my clear distress. I would get over it, regardless. I would’ve appreciated an honest and straightforward rejection, but at least now I didn’t have to figure out his weird, wishy-washy personality. He could just be the asshole who’d essentially abducted me, rather than the asshole who did that and was also once inexplicably sincere.That ‘once’ had resulted in far too many hours thinking about him, rewinding and replaying all our interactions, trying to understand. What a relief that would cease.
I let my poor excuse for a dagger fade. “Great. I’ll ask Elle.”
I partnered with Elle for the remainder of the lesson, which proved fruitful. It was nowhere near where I needed to be to keep up with the other Mages, but I’d succeeded in forming a proper dagger. Elle had let me test it against her club, and I’d actually stabbed through the wood. My pleasure was her dismay, as she determined her weapon was no longer solid enough to be satisfactory. I lost her to her own machinations after that.
We were filing out of the training room when Alandris stopped me, asking me to wait to speak with him. Against my better judgment, I motioned for Elle to go on ahead of me and move back into the center of the room, nervously tapping my foot until every last Mage was gone.
“There’s something I needed to speak with you about privately,” he started, leaning back against his desk with arms folded in front of him. “I am planning to make a public announcement to the rest of the Mages tomorrow. We will be welcoming several important guests in two weeks’ time. They are expecting a full grand affair, so we plan to host a ball of sorts.” He bristled at the word ‘ball’.
“Not your usual haunt, I take it?”
Alandris shook his head. “No, I’ve had more than enough of that life in my youth. I’d hoped to get away from it all in joining the Mages Consortium, but it turns out politics follow you no matter where you go.”
There was a pause between us before I spoke. “Is there a reason you’re telling me now versus tomorrow?”
“Yes.” He turned his eyes away from me. “All Mages are expected to be in attendance, except for… you.”
“Except for me,” I repeated under my breath. “We both know that means you’re telling me not to go—not that I don’t have to. So, why?”
“Your magic is too volatile right now. Until it is under control, it is best that you stay out of the public eye. The Consortium cannot afford an incident.”
I clenched my teeth. Maybe I wasn’t a ballroom and ball gowns kind of woman, but I was the kind who didn’t like being told not to do something, especially for such a pretentious reason. I could control myself perfectly fine.
“What if I want to go?”
His gaze locked onto mine. “I wasn’t asking.”
