Page 80

"Stillness." The word sounds almost absurd attached to her.

I raise an eyebrow. "You?"

"I contain multitudes." She grins.

"Miss Hart's manifestation is not invisibility." Professor Neris addresses the class, not Rowan. "It suppresses the physical signals used by predatory, instinctive and some magical forms of perception." She glances toward the vampires. "A trained vampire may still see her." Then the wolves. "A bonded packmate may still feel her." The sirens. "Emotional perception may still locate her."

Finally, back to Rowan. "But under the correct conditions, her presence becomes difficult to register." Rowan sits a little straighter. Professor Neris adds— "Provided she remains silent." The class laughs.

Rowan points accusingly. "That felt unnecessary."

"It was essential." Professor Neris answers.

Cassian is called next. He enters the blue-marked chamber without hesitation. The room inside is nearly empty. A chair. A narrow table. Three glass panels. Professor Neris joins him this time. She places her hand against the first panel. An image appears. A young woman smiling. No sound. No context. Cassian watches. The second panel brightens. The same woman crying. The third shows her expressionless. Professor Neris asks him a question. Cassian answers. The images change. A boy laughing while fear tightens his shoulders. A man shouting while grief sits beneath the anger. A child appearing calm while someone else's panic presses through the room.

The demonstrations become more complex. Cassian's expression grows focused. Not strained. Attentive. He studies every image as though the person behind it matters. That is what makes him different. Even when he knows they are illusions, he does not reduce them to problems. Professor Neris gestures toward the final panel. Nothing appears. Cassian frowns. Then looks toward the chamber wall. His head tilts. He raises one hand. The panel lights suddenly. A soft blue shimmer spreads across it, revealing a second emotional layer hidden beneath the first. Projected calm over genuine terror. Cassian says something. Professor Neris nods. The chamber opens.

He returns less pleased than Rowan. Not upset. Thoughtful.

Nyra leans toward him. "What happened?"

"They confirmed discernment." He says.

"Is that what you expected?" I ask.

"Yes." His fingers close briefly around the edge of the table. "I hoped they were wrong."

I understand immediately. Sensing other people's emotions sounds gentle when described from a distance. Living with the knowledge that someone's smile is false, their calm forced, their affection altered— That is different.

Professor Neris addresses the room again. "Mr. Solmere's manifestation allows him to distinguish emotional origin." She writes the word across the board. DISCERNMENT "He may identify when an emotion is natural, concealed, projected or magically altered."

A siren near the back raises her hand. "Can he read thoughts?" She asks.

"No." Professor answers.

"Memories?"

"No."

"Can he change what someone feels?"

Professor Neris looks toward Cassian. He answers himself. "No." A pause. "And I wouldn't."

The statement is simple. Firm. Professor Neris nods. "Perception is not permission." Her gaze settles on every siren in the room. "Remember that."

Cassian returns to his notes. I watch him for half a second longer. At sixteen, he had always known when I was lying about being afraid. I thought he understood me because we had grown up together. Perhaps that had only been part of it.

Nyra's name is called after midday. Her face pales. She stands anyway. I catch her wrist before she steps past me.

"You'll be fine."

"That phrase has become meaningless here."

"Then you'll survive being uncertain." I smile softly. "That is worse."

"Probably."

Her mouth twitches. She enters the golden chamber. Unlike Rowan and Cassian, Nyra is not met by an instructor. Only a table. On it sits a small clay pot. Inside— A plant. Brown leaves. Collapsed stem. Dry soil pulling away from the edges. Nyra approaches slowly. This time, Professor Neris' voice carries through the chamber. "Restore it." Nyra kneels. She places both hands around the pot. Nothing happens. She closes her eyes. A faint golden glow gathers beneath her fingers. The leaves tremble. Then remain dead. Nyra tries again. More power. The soil cracks. The stem bends. No new life appears. Her breathing grows faster. Professor Neris says something we cannot hear. Nyra looks toward the glass. Even from outside, I can see the embarrassment moving through her. A fae in a room full of dying leaves. Expected to make them grow. Unable. The simplest version of what everyone believes her magic should be.