110. Rorax
Six targets.
Six darts of ice.
Six bullseyes.
Rorax smirked when she saw where she hit each target, and that smirk grew into a smug smile when Cannon gave her an impressed whistle.
Very good, Greywood,Cannon signed. Now do it with earth.
She did as she was told, slinging six sharp darts of earth toward the targets made of straw and wood they had haphazardly arranged in stone stands, and collected another six bullseyes to brag about.
The Elemental Magick that she had finally uncracked wasn’t that different from the magick she was already used to with Glimr.
The hardest part was filtering through the new strings of additional magick she felt, flipping through them until she found the right one she wanted to use. The best part about magic was how it manifested in her eyes, overlapping the white iris with the vibrant colors of the rainbow.
The grueling practices she’d subjected herself to was slowly becoming second nature. She was the best with short bursts of magick—magick that felt like she was simply throwing her knife around. Ice and earth daggers, balls of flame, a dagger of darkness, small bursts of lightning. Any kind of magick she could fashion into a weapon, Rorax excelled at. Anything she wanted to grow or summon for her pleasure—blossoms or ice sculptures or beautiful light shows bursting from her fingertips—were much harder.
A full moon cycle had passed since Rorax had finally accessed her magick. It had been one of the most challenging and strenuous times in her life. Working on only a few hours of sleep, Rorax would rise before dawn and not return to her bed until well after midnight.
Rorax knew that her magick would leave her, once she found a way to free herself from the Choosing, but while she had it, she wanted to feel it, push her ability to the maximum, find out what she could do. She wanted to know what it felt like to have so much power at the touch of her fingers. It was addicting.
Rorax would never admit it out loud to anyone, but she also used this time as a distraction from Ayres. Or more like Ayres’s absence.
Ayres no longer came to the Contestar Training sessions. He never came to their study sessions, and he barely looked her way when she managed to catch a glimpse of him in the mess hall or around the castle.
Rorax had forgiven him for lying to her, for hiding who he was. Here at the castle, he was just a man. He wasn’t the Harbinger, or the Prince of House Death, he was just a man.
Everyday people still sneered at Rorax, whispered behind their hands calling her the Pup, looked at her, afraid, like she wanted to slaughter the whole castle and was just biding her time. And so Rorax understood him. If Rorax could go back to her blessed, wonderful anonymity she would. Her heart ached for it.
Rorax was hurt that Ayres had not trusted her with the truth and still furious he had forced the Blood Oath on her. Both reasonable things to be upset by. Both things she deserved an apology for. Something that could easily be fixed. But the apology never came. Not after a full cycle of Rorax waking up before dawn, training until her muscles failed, and searching through books all day, and falling into bed late. He had been avoiding her relentlessly.
Jia, Lamonte, Piers, and Cannon trained her magick through the day, and Ayres never appeared during any of them. He had completely abandoned her.
Rorax hated—hated—that she had all the attention in the world, and yet she still felt alone without him.
Her heart gave a painful jerk, and her mouth twisted.
Cannon snapped his fingers, and she looked over at him, hating the pity written all over his face. Are you okay?
Rorax nodded and forced her features to appear neutral. I’m fine.
Cannon gave her a look that told Rorax her lie was flimsy as a wet noodle. She blew out a heavy sigh before straightening her spine.
Rorax felt her pride crumble away as she asked, Where is he?
Cannon pursed his lips, tilting his head to the side. He is holed up in one of the old, abandoned librarian offices.
Why?
Cannon folded his arms over his chest and shrugged, the red bands on his biceps flashing in the sun. No one knows. He gave us orders to focus on you and to stay out of his way.
The way Cannon’s eyes pinched tight in the corners made Rorax think that something was wrong. Is he okay?
Cannon nodded slowly, but his uncertainty was clear. Yes, but if you wanted to check in on him, I wouldn’t stop you.