Chapter 42
Aric
THE ARCANE SPHERE HURTLES TOWARD me, bathed in flames. My legs push me hard, tearing up the runeball field as I sprint to get into position to catch it. One hand raised, I call on my water magic, intending to douse the flames before the sphere can land in my arms.
But my magic doesn’t respond.
I try again, but still nothing.
The sphere strikes me in the chest, singing my tunic and one loose strand of hair that escaped from my topknot, then falls to the ground. Fortunately, the field is enchanted not to catch fire—exactly for this reason.
Mona, who was sprinting ahead of me, waiting for me to pass to her, doubles back while I hurriedly pat the lingering flames from my tunic and check to make sure I didn’t get burned.
“You okay?” she asks. Waving a hand, she summons a light mist, which sprinkles the flaming sphere until the fire splutters and goes out. Then her eyes meet mine, dark and narrowed with concern.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“What happened?” Coach Grayward calls, striding over to us from the sidelines. “What was that, Vandermere?”
“Sorry, Coach.” I glance down at my hands; my magic has never failed me like this before, and definitely not in the middle of runeball practice. My stomach twists uncomfortably.
What if it happens during the game?
“No apologies,” Coach says, planting his hands on his hips and frowning down at me. “Just do it right next time.” He casts a glance over my shoulder, then sighs. “I’d like to run that one again, but practice time is up.”
Sure enough, some of the Sigil Strikers have started to gather at the far end of the field, chatting and stretching as they wait for us to clear out so they can get their practice time in.
We all gather around Coach Grayward, who keeps his voice low, ensuring no one from the Strikers can hear what he’s telling us. But I find my thoughts drifting, my gaze drawn to my hands again.
Why didn’t my magic work? Why didn’t it respond?
“Vandermere!”
I jerk my head up. “Yes, Coach?”
“Stay after. I want a word with you.”
Some of my teammates cast me pitying looks. Leo just looks entertained, like usual.
The rest of the team clears out while Coach and I walk a few paces away. Even though it’s sunny today, snow still clings to the shaded areas, and there’s a cold bite to the air, cooling the sweat on my skin.
“What was that?” Coach asks once we’re out of earshot.
I heave a sigh and hold one hand out. “My magic . . . It didn’t come when I called on it.” I drop my hand and meet his eyes. “It’s never happened to me before.”
Coach crosses his arms, and some of the severity falls away from his expression. “Are you sleeping?”
My shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “A bit.”
I’ve mostly been studying, trying to cram as much information into my head as possible before final exams. Because losing runeball, losing my place on this team, can’t happen. And I need to graduate this year if I want to take Alden up on that offer. Which I really do.
I’ve fallen in love with the idea of moving to Faunwood. It was so comforting when Poppy and I were there together, and it’s a place that holds memories of Ma, of that trip we took together as a family before everything got hard.
In some small way, I felt close to her while I was there.
And I don’t want to lose the opportunity Alden extended to me.
“I’m working hard, Coach,” I say before he can get a word in. “I won’t let you down.”
Coach Grayward lets out a sigh, and his gaze softens.
Then he reaches out and squeezes my shoulder.
“I see how hard you’re working. You’re not letting anyone down.
But you need to take better care of yourself.
You look exhausted.” He squeezes my shoulder again, then pats me once on the back.
“Eat. Sleep. You look like hell, Vandermere. You need rest. Please take it.”
The coach of the Sigil Strikers approaches us, and Coach Grayward meets my eyes and gives me a nod before turning away to talk to her.
I stride across the field, clenching and unclenching my fists, worry and frustration swirling inside me. After grabbing my towel from my bag, I scrub the sweat from my face and neck, then shoulder the strap and start heading back toward the castle.
Maybe I’ll go to Poppy’s room, see if she wants to get breakfast in the dining hall with me. Or maybe we could study together some more.
My stomach twists at the idea. We don’t “study together.” Poppy tutors me, and I just struggle to grasp it all. The sessions do nothing for her except eat up time she could be using to study for her own finals or do last-minute preparations for the Blue Moon Ball.
At our last tutoring session, she had to go over history dates with me three or four times before I finally grasped the timeline of events.
Even now, though, I’d probably struggle to bring the dates to mind.
My brain feels like it’s close to bursting, like I can’t cram one more concept into it.
But I have to keep going, keep studying.
Poppy shouldn’t have to suffer alongside me though. She’s already spent a whole semester helping me. It might be time for me to take over studying on my own so she can have more time to do the things she needs to do. I’ve been selfish with her time.
My lightweight shoes strike the sun-warm cobbles as I leave the field behind, my mind whirling.
But before I get very far, a witch with bright red hair wound back into two braids comes around the corner of the athletics building, and she lifts her hand to wave, her face breaking into a smile.