Chapter 14
S oren lived on a modest yet charming property, nestled in a quiet corner at the edge of Bryonia Park. That made it a quick stroll from my house, and since I frequently took walks there or picnicked with Briar and Wrenley, I had an easy cover. Adora would fight tooth and nail if she knew I was going to an enchanter’s house alone to train with him.
His estate was surrounded by a low stone wall, and the house was two-story with a thatched roof and whitewashed walls. The garden of herbs and flowers that lined the front walkway filled the air with the scents of magik. Around the back was a small stable for Soren's horse and what appeared to be an enchanter's workshop.
Inside, the house was inviting but had minimal decorations besides a few elegant tapestries and simple chairs. The sparseness was likely by design since it was easier to practice with ample room.
It had only been a few days since Soren and I started meeting, but it had gone well so far, with a clear focus on conducting. When I arrived on the third afternoon, he was already moving the chairs to the edge of the room so we could have more space. As usual for these practices, he dressed casually, and the sleeves were rolled up on his forearms, revealing his tattoos.
Starting from his wrists, a series of ancient runes wound up his arms, their elegant curves and sharp edges representing the various spells and incantations he had mastered. Whenever he was enchanting, the tattoos emitted a faint, ethereal light that pulsed with his heartbeat.
“Shall we start where we left off?” Soren asked, dispelling any pleasantries to get right down to it.
"Sounds great," I said, but that wasn't entirely true.
The day before, we had been really exerting ourselves. Or at least I had, and I was still fatigued. Essentially, we practiced until one of us was too tired, and I refused to be the one to say when. I didn’t want to disappoint him or hold back, so I gave my all to the point of straining and exhaustion.
Today, we began as we always did: I stood in the center of the room, totally still, as Soren stalked slowly around me.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded. “I want you to only react to the sound of my voice.”
Soren began his chanting and singing, and my hands moved instinctively as if my body understood his words that my ears didn't. His velvety baritone filled the air and the spaces between.
Several minutes into it, I felt the lightness taking over, and I opened my eyes for a moment. I was floating upward, several feet above the hard floor. My hands were outstretched, tracing intricate designs in the air, the sparkling trails of light mimicking the symbols tattooed on Soren’s body.
Then I squeezed my eyes shut and listened only to Soren's voice. My arms tensed as the muscles cramped, and a painful heat burned deep within me as the practice wore on.
But I didn’t want to give up or disappoint Soren. He believed that I could do this, and so I must.
I grimaced and forced the magik out through me, letting it sear my veins as it moved within me. In the middle of his chants, I faintly heard Soren saying my name, but I couldn't reply because all my focus and energy went to my conduction.
“Izzy,” he said more forcefully, and when I still didn’t respond, he shouted, “ Isadore !”
I opened my eyes, and abruptly, I fell from the air. Soren was below me, arms outstretched, and he caught me easily.
“I’m sorry,” I said breathlessly. “I was trying so hard –”
“You were trying too hard." Soren set me down on the floor and kept one arm around my waist, holding me steady. "Your skin is flushed, you're perspiring, you're out of breath."
"I'm sorry," I repeated, tears stung my eyes.
"No, Izzy, you misunderstood. I wish you hadn't tried so hard because you were clearly suffering and overloading yourself near the end." His dark eyes were worried, and his voice had gone soft and soothing. "How long were you in pain?"
"I don't know. Not that long," I said, even though I wasn't really sure. Once the burning tipped over to agony, it became hard for me to keep track of time.
"From now on, I need you to tell me when you're in pain," he said. "We're trying to build your stamina and strength, yes, but we don't want to run past your threshold and do serious damage. We need to do this gradually, but don't mistake that for failure on your part. Not many things happen quickly, especially not things that are worthwhile."
"Okay," I said hesitantly because that sounded like the answer I should give, even if it didn't entirely make sense. If he wanted excellence from me, I should push until I got it perfect, not quit when it got too hard.
“You’re confused,” he observed.
"No." I shook my head, then realized I was lying for no reason. "I… I suppose I am perplexed about what you want from all of this."
"I want you to be the best muse you can possibly be and, in the process, catapult us both into a life of luxury and prestige." He said it nonchalantly as if it was all simple and easy to obtain.
“Those are lofty goals that require a great deal of discipline,” I pointed out.
"They are, but I think they are achievable. Discipline and hard work don't mean we need to torture ourselves," he reasoned, then his gaze turned curious. "What about you? What do you want from this?"
“Same as you,” I said, even though spending more time with Soren ranked higher above luxury and prestige on my aspirational list.
"Good." He smiled and then abruptly stepped back from me as if suddenly realizing his arm was still around my waist even though I was perfectly steady on my feet.
“We do need to end today’s practice.” Soren cleared his throat and quickly clarified, “You’ve exerted yourself enough, and you should rest up. I can give you a ride home on my horse.”
"No, it's better if I walk," I declined since Adora would accept no explanations if I arrived home on horseback with Soren. The fresh air will help clear my head."
"If that's as you wish," he allowed reluctantly, walking me to the door. "I will see you tomorrow then?"
“Tomorrow,” I promised him.
While the practice made me tired, I was happy to have the time to calm myself. It had been a short session anyway, so I had plenty of time for a leisurely stroll down the bustling afternoon streets.
“Hello, Miss Izzy,” Heloise greeted me when I came in through the front door of my home. “How was your afternoon?”
"It was fine," I said because I couldn't tell her what I had been up to. "How was Adora?"
“Lady Adora isn’t home.”
I looked at the housekeeper in surprise. When I had left, Adora had been on the sofa reading The Calida Post , the same way she was most days. “Where is she? She didn’t tell me she had any appointments.”
Heloise shook her head. “I’m not sure. The Lady doesn’t tell me of her business.”
"Oh." I frowned in bewilderment because it was so unlike my mother to take a spontaneous leave.
“I did notice that the Lady was wearing one of her very nice gowns,” Heloise added helpfully. “And her expensive perfume.”
My frown only deepened at that. Adora was meeting someone she wanted to impress, yet she hadn't told me about it?
I sat on the sofa and waited for her since that seemed the only sensible thing to do. Heloise kindly brought me a cup of tea to calm my nerves, and then she had one herself because my worry was contagious.
It was nearly supper time when Adora finally came through the front door.
She greeted me with a smug smile. “Isadore, how was your afternoon?”
“Fine. But honestly, I am more interested in yours,” I said.
“I was meeting with the great warlock, Herve Chaunter,” Adora said with an exaggerated blasé tone, and she sashayed over and sat beside me on the sofa. “I’m certain I told you about it.”
“Herve Chaunter?” I echoed. “I don’t recall you mentioning that.”
In addition to having a chair on the Magik Tribunal, Herve was the Warlock to the Queen. That made him the most powerful warlock and head of all the enchanters in the Kingdom of Calida. I definitely would've remembered if my mother had told me about meeting with him, mainly because that was the kind of thing she usually talked constantly about. It seemed more like a deliberate omission than an accidental oversight.
“I know I told you, Isadore,” she insisted. “You’ve just been so busy lately with your friends . You must've forgotten."
“What were you meeting Herve about?” I asked.
“About you, of course.” She slapped my knee playfully. “And it went perfectly . He has set you up with a lucenition for the Samonend performance.”
A lucenition was when a muse showcased her power of light and magik for a warlock or enchanter. Based on that, placements in the most significant conductions were given. At this point, I had an extensive enough resume to bypass the lucenitions for minor events, but someone like the Warlock to the Queen would always require them.
“That is fantastic. Thank you, Adora.”
"Now all I ask in return is that you do not squander this opportunity. Perhaps you should double your practices with Briar and Wrenley. I can't have you stumbling before Herve and making a fool of us both."
“Of course, Adora. I will give it my all,” I promised her.