Chapter 3
Mother and Corbin’s rhythmic snores filled the long and restless night, a soothing lullaby that usually lulled me to sleep but which proved impossible tonight with magic’s firm grip over my thoughts.
The ability to heal my brother had acted as a key, unlocking the door I’d determinedly shut and inviting me to explore every possibility I hadn’t allowed myself to imagine should I become an apprentice. Now every wonder—from the practical to the fantastic—filled my mind, impossible to quench. When sleep finally lured me into its comforting embrace, magic filled my dreams in images of glistening light and vibrant colors, with Corbin at the center—healthy and whole, his smile bright and his face aglow as my powers filled his life with joy.
The image lingered as dawn arrived, confirming the decision my heart had made, even as sense prevented me from fully embracing it. These two parts of myself warred within me the entire morning, a distraction that didn’t escape Mother’s notice.
“What’s troubling you, Maeve?”
Her gentle voice tugged my focus away from the butter I was churning a little too intensely. I blinked hastily to chase away the thoughts of how magic would aid me in such a task and met her gaze, soft with concern. Her expression invited me to share my burden, even as I wasn’t sure where to begin, especially with the guilt accompanying my desires to learn magic when doing so would selfishly put my yearnings before the needs of my family. Even so, I desired to confide in her, desperate for Mother’s opinion on my struggle.
I attempted to sort out my tangle of thoughts, but had barely begun the arduous task when a knock suddenly sounded. I knew who stood on the other side, whether due to magical intuition or because the wizard I’d met had proven quite predictable.
Mother glanced towards the door. “Who could that be?”
I sighed. “I believe I know.”
Before she could question further, I hoisted the door open to find the very man I’d expected standing on the other side, this time in plum robes the exact shade of my favorite color, a change I suspected was a further attempt to persuade me.
“Let me guess,” I said by way of greeting. “Magic would have allowed me to open the door without needing to have risen from my chair. Or”—I allowed my imagination to lead me in a more satisfying direction—“perhaps magic could have acted as a shield that would have prevented you from disrupting our morning at all.”
Rather than the quip offending him as I’d secretly hoped, he only grinned widely enough to reveal an annoyingly attractive dimple. “It appears you’ve given the matter some thought. I’m glad you’ve considered all that magic can do to enhance your life.”
The last thing I wanted to admit was how much I’d done that very thing. “Your timing is rather inconvenient; I haven’t even discussed the matter with my mother.”
“Magical intuition rarely fails, leading me to believe that despite your insistences on the matter, I’m right on time.” He wriggled his eyebrows. “Does this mean I’m about to receive the answer I’m hoping for?”
I lifted my chin. “You assume my decision is favorable.”
“One can only hope.”
With a wink he stepped around me to enter the tiny kitchen. Mother’s chair tipped over as she hastened to her feet, her eyes wide as she took in the wizard. He swept into a proper bow in greeting, already behaving far more charmingly than he ever had with me.
“I’m a wizard. Perhaps your daughter has already told you about me.” Mischief filled his gaze as he tilted his head slightly towards me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” With a flick of his wrist he conjured a bouquet of flowers, which he presented to Mother with a bow.
Mother’s eyebrows rose in astonishment and I rolled his eyes at his excessive attempts to charm her. His purposeful omission of his name was much more obvious in this introduction than when he’d failed to go through the protocol of providing one during our first meeting.
“Is there a reason you’re intentionally withholding your name from your introductions?”
His easygoing expression faltered before he hastily tucked his confidence back around himself. “It’s common practice for a wizard to protect his identity. I’ll be inclined to provide it once you agree to be my apprentice.”
If he’d hoped to distract us from the matter of his name with such a statement his ploy worked, for Mother’s eyes bulged. “Pardon? You want Maeve to be your apprentice? A wizard’s apprentice?”
He cast me a triumphant smirk before offering a more genuine smile for Mother. “Indeed, ma’am. I happened upon Miss Maeve while in the forest yesterday and noticed she possesses a rare affinity for magic.”
Mother gasped and spun around to face me with a gasp. “Is this true, Maeve?”
I shifted guiltily, feeling as if I’d been caught in a lie. “It’s true I encountered this wizard yesterday…” I trailed off, having lost the words that would provide an adequate defense for my lingering silence.
“Is that what’s had you so distracted this morning?” she asked. “You seemed deep in thought about something, but this is admittedly far different than anything I could have imagined.”
The wizard glanced towards me, expression hopeful and dimple once more on display as he shot me a mischievous grin. “I knew you were considering it.”
I ached to deny it, but while it was one thing to lie to him—there was something about him that made it thoroughly enjoyable to toy with him, an impulse his interactions with me thus far indicated he clearly shared—it was another thing entirely to be dishonest with Mother.
My shoulders slumped in defeat. “I admit the idea is…appealing, but I simply could never—”
“I think you should do it.”
I blinked at her unexpected response. “You…do?”
She nodded. For a moment I could only stare in astonishment before I whirled on the wizard, jabbing an accusing finger towards him.
“Are you bewitching her into being so cooperative?”
He raised a dubious brow. “I told you yesterday magic cannot be used to eclipse another’s will. It doesn’t bode well for your apprenticeship if such a fundamental truth has already slipped your mind, one that I shared only yesterday and which will be foundational for your training.”
In truth I had forgotten, but the last person I wanted to admit such a thing to was him. While I yearned to accept his offer, something about him compelled me to remain uncooperative.
I squared my shoulders and faced Mother. “Becoming an apprentice would take me away from my responsibilities.”
“I can manage.” Though she seemed sincere, she sounded exhausted by the prospect, which only solidified my determination not to abandon her or my brother.
I clenched my jaw. “But my leaving will put you in a difficult position—”
She gently rested her hands on my shoulders. “You’ve always been a dutiful daughter, but as much as I appreciate both your company and your help, you have your own life. You need to explore and grow, not sacrifice your future to making my life easier.”
“But…how can I selfishly choose such a path when there’s no guarantee it’ll lead anywhere? I might not even truly have magic.” As I spoke the words, I realized that was one of the major variables holding me back. I was torn between the desire to find out what I was capable of and the fear that the answer might be nothing, leaving me worse off than I was now as I returned to my normal life with crushed dreams and no way to heal Corbin. That possibility felt more plausible when the one who claimed I possessed magic was an eccentric wizard with unknown motives, someone I’d only just met and who had not even shared his name with me yet.
With an impatient sigh he extended his hand, beckoning in invitation for me to take it. I hesitated before gingerly laying my hand in his. A tingle of energy passed between our hands as his fingers curled gently around mine and he flipped it palm up.
His proximity enfolded me as he stepped closer, a closeness that despite the way he continually frustrated me I didn’t resent.
“Summoning your powers will prove you possess magic.”
“I don’t know how,” I stammered, my eyes drifting to his hand hovering underneath mine.
“I’ll show you.” His patient tone softened my resistance and allowed my desires to coax the magic I supposedly possessed in order to obey his instructions. “Close your eyes and concentrate on the warmth simmering beneath your skin.”
I tried to focus on the feeling he described…but the only warmth I noticed came from his proximity. I edged a few inches away so I could better concentrate. The distance helped me focus on the feelings coursing beneath my skin, none of which seemed different.
As if sensing this, he spoke. “Considering magic has always been a part of you, the feeling may be difficult to distinguish since it won’t seem out of the ordinary. Silently beckon your powers and they’ll answer.”
I mentally explored the feelings coursing through me, giving them an occasional poke. Eventually I was able to discern them; as if stirring awake they shifted, stretching and yawning in preparation to do my bidding.
“I may feel something…?”
“Good.” A smile filled his voice. “Now take hold of that sensation and push it towards your hand.”
The calmness I’d felt from his gentle instruction faltered as my anxiety rose to cinch my heart. “You want me to perform a spell? I don’t know any—”
“It’s just a simple charm,” he said. “Think of it as a parlor trick rather than a real spell, only meant to prove that you indeed possess power.”
My doubts remained, but my curiosity had grown too powerful for me to ignore. I did as he instructed, searching the almost tingly feelings stirring beneath my skin, but they only seemed to slip just beyond my reach whenever I tried to take hold of them.
Sensing my rising frustration, he stepped close enough to rest a hand on my shoulder, a touch that eased my stiff posture. “You’re too tense. Don’t overthink it; the process isn’t complicated. Simply imagine taking hold of your powers and then visualize pushing them towards your hand.”
The effort required strenuous mental concentration, a sensation similar to attempting to walk against a headwind. After several attempts and much focus on the image he described, the heated tingle I’d discovered spread to my hand, followed by a sensation of upward movement. My eyes snapped open in time to see sparkly, plum-colored light lift from my palm to twirl through the air, as if the magic had matched itself to my favorite color to identify itself as mine. At least, I hoped it was aligning itself with me and not showing allegiance to the wizard whose cloak was the same shade.
My gasp of surprise was drowned out not just by Mother’s but by another, equally dear voice. “Wow, Maeve, that was amazing.”
My brother’s sudden exclamation drew my gaze towards the bedroom threshold, where he’d managed to slip from bed and open the door wide enough to peek through with wide, fascinated eyes.
“What are you doing up, Corbin?”
He slowly eased from his room, his bright attention fixated on me and the wizard beside me. “I didn’t know you could do magic. Did this man teach you? Is he a wizard? Can he teach me to do a trick, too?” His excited questions came rapidly, one after another.
The teasing that usually filled the wizard’s expression melted into a look that was rather sweet as he crouched in front of Corbin. “You must be Maeve’s younger brother.” His tone was surprisingly kind for someone who’d been driving me mad ever since we’d met.
Corbin’s tongue stuck adorably between the gaps in his teeth as he grinned. “I’m Corbin. What’s your name, Mr. Wizard?”
I fully expected him not to respond, considering he seemed determined to keep his identity a secret, but not even the wizard’s powers were strong enough to resist my adorable brother’s charms. He answered the eager question with very little hesitancy.
“My name is Alden.”
He stiffened as his name escaped, as if bracing himself for some sort of reaction. When our silence extended too long, he cast me an almost expectant look.
“Doesn’t that name…mean anything to you?”
I frowned. “Is it supposed to?” Perhaps he was a high-ranking wizard well known amongst magical beings and he took offense at my lack of recognition of his prowess…though admittedly he didn’t seem upset, more anxious.
His shoulders sank in clear relief. “No, not at all.” Then to himself he muttered, “There are advantages I didn’t foresee in choosing an apprentice from an obscure village; it appears news travels slowly from the capital.”
My family didn’t appear to have overheard, but as if the magic filling the air had carried his voice to my ears, I heard his quiet murmur as clearly as if he’d spoken the words at a normal volume.
My brows drew together. “Pardon?”
“Nothing.” He cleared his throat and returned his attention to my brother, who stared up at him with an almost worshipful expression. “Would you like to see some magic?”
Corbin clasped his hands together. “Please.”
“Bring me any ordinary object and I’ll make it extraordinary.”
I opted to go to Corbin’s room in his place while Mother helped him settle in a chair so he wouldn’t exhaust himself from standing too long. I cast my gaze about before selecting the vase of bluebells I’d picked for him the day before.
My grin was wicked as I handed them to the wizard. “A distinguished man such as yourself seems to specialize in flowers.”
Amusement twitched Alden’s lips as he accepted them. “A proper wizard can use any material for his spells. Now to select the perfect one.” He studied the flowers with a thoughtful air. “Bluebells, hmm…” He lifted his hand…but nothing happened. Alden’s shoulders sank in an almost theatrical fashion. “It appears the spell the didn’t work. Perhaps you should try?”
Corbin’s eyes rounded. “Me?”
Alden’s eyes twinkled as he handed the vase to my brother, who cradled it carefully in his lap. He hesitated only a moment before determinedly squaring his shoulders and mimicking Alden’s earlier movements. With his attention diverted, he didn’t notice Alden surreptitiously exerting his powers—the wizard’s lips moved almost silently as he whispered an incantation, and with a twirl of his wrist, a sprinkle of glistening magic whirled around the bluebells before seeping into the petals.
Corbin stared expectantly at the flowers, waiting, but they appeared entirely ordinary. His little shoulders slumped. “Nothing happened.”
“Are you certain?” Alden asked. “Perhaps you should try touching them.”
Corbin gave the nearest flower a tentative poke. The clear chime of a bell filled the room. Corbin’s eyes widened in wonder and delight and he immediately poked another, which emanated another sound in a different pitch. With each touch, a cheerful tinkle emanated from the flowers, all unique, creating an instrument that would provide my brother hours of entertainment and brighten up his often monotonous days.
His joyous laughter filled the room, causing my heart to swell. Alden offered me a secretive wink that effectively caused my annoyance which I’d firmly clung to since our meeting to vanish in an instant.
When Corbin had finally satisfied himself in exploring his new magical toy, he smiled contentedly at the flowers a moment more before looking up at the wizard. “Thank you, Mr. Wizard.”
Alden tilted his head. “Why are you thanking me? You’re the one who enchanted them.”
Corbin’s little body straightened. “You can’t trick me. I’m seven and I know you just made me think I cast the spell.”
Alden’s lips twitched. “Perhaps, but you inspired the trick, so we can share the credit.” He leaned closer, as if to share a secret. “Since we worked together, let me tell you how the spell works. These are special flowers that won’t wilt, which will allow you to not only enjoy them for years to come, but will remind you of your adoring sister who gave them to you.”
In that moment I realized Alden’s true motive behind his charm—he’d created a parting gift for my brother that would not only bring him joy, but which would ease some of my worries about leaving him behind, all while demonstrating another example of how I could use my powers, should I master them.
The odious man had likely calculatingly chosen the best means of softening me, leaving me entirely defenseless when with another wave of his hand he conjured a floating parchment and quill. I didn’t resist when he flicked his wrist and the quill began writing the words as he dictated them.
“Maeve, daughter of Lilith from the village of Cedar Ridge, in good faith and without equivocation, places herself in the service and engages herself to become the apprentice to Alden the Wizard, making her home with him for learning the art and craft of magic for a period of…” He glanced at me. “What length is agreeable to you for your studies? Two years? Four?”
Four felt entirely too long; even two seemed an eternity to part from my family. “Let’s begin with one.”
His eyes widened. “One? There’s not much I can teach you in such a short span.” He muttered something indiscernible, the one word I caught being difficult, yet he obediently transcribed the length of time I’d requested. “…for a period of one year, at the salary or wage of…” Here he paused again, his expression kind as he glanced at me. “What wages do you deem adequate for your apprenticeship?”
Wages?I hadn’t even considered that I would be paid. Knowing that my family would be financially compensated for my year-long absence cast away any remaining doubts as to this path I had chosen.
We spent a few minutes negotiating a tidy sum that, while modest, would be a boon to my family’s finances, further easing my lingering worries in leaving them. Alden instructed the enchanted quill to write these out.
“Any further conditions?” he asked.
Each one surrounded my dear family, watching our exchange with love and joy despite the cost to them in letting me go. “I want to be allowed to visit frequently.” I’d no sooner made the request when I realized such a wish was unattainable. The capital was a several-day journey that would make regular visits impossible. The thought squeezed my heart.
“That will be easy to arrange.” Alden glimpsed my dubious gaze and smiled. “Trust me, Maeve.”
And to my astonishment I realized that, despite our rough beginning, I did.
The enchanted quill wrote, “Granted a visit to her family every weekend” in curly letters. Alden considered another moment before adding, “Will be granted the right to send a daily letter with the aid of Wizard Alden’s magic until hers is deemed sufficient” and “will receive magical compensation to her family for the loss of her labor.”
My eyes widened. “How—” I began, but Alden had already cast a spell on a nearby broom leaning against the wall. Corbin clapped in delight as I watched in astonishment as it quivered, lifted itself upright, and began sweeping the floor, as if guided by an invisible hand.
Alden’s smirk was triumphant. “Satisfied?”
I could only gape as he motioned the floating quill and parchment towards me with a gentle nudge. The quill angled itself towards me, inviting me to take it up and sign the contract. I stared first at it, then the broom tidying the house on its own, and finally to my family’s faces—though they seemed sad at the thought of losing me, their eyes were bright in anticipation for my upcoming adventure. Their support and encouragement finally gave me the strength to embrace the path my heart yearned to choose, a desire which had only grown with each of the wizard’s magical displays.
Alden’s magic had done more than bring smiles to their faces—it had softened my own stubborn resistance. Such simple spells had brought joy to Corbin, eased some of my mother’s burdens, and offered the only path that could potentially heal my brother and provide him the most fulfilling life possible. This thought, more than anything else, helped me embrace the journey awaiting me.
Impatient, the floating quill gave me an encouraging nudge until I accepted it, my fingers trembling slightly as they gripped the smooth stalk. It warmed my hand as I signed my name and I felt a sensation of peace wash over me rather than the dismay I feared I’d experience once my decision became irrevocable.
And that was how I, a common girl from a remote village, became an apprentice to a wizard and embarked on my magical journey that would prove far more surprising than I could have ever imagined.