Chapter 10
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Wen
“Today we will focus on the theoretical foundations of portal magic,” Casimya announced, settling into what looked like it was going to be a very long lecture.
Oh no.
“The dimensional barriers between realms are fundamentally composed of-”
I was going to die of boredom.
“-layered membranes of concentrated magical energy that respond to - are you listening?”
“Absolutely not,” I admitted.
Casimya’s lips twitched. “Honesty. Refreshing.”
“Can we skip to the actual magic part?”
“Theory IS magic.”
“Theory is kind of boring.”
“This is why you keep opening portals to random places.”
“That was ONE time.”
“Three times. In the last hour.”
She had a point.
Beside me, Killian was sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing with a small portal he’d opened that showed a view of the garden. He was making flower petals float through it, completely focused and not struggling at all.
I was being humiliated by my prodigy son. I couldn’t be more proud.
“Okay,” I said, standing and shaking out my hands. “I’m going to open a portal to the garden. The actual garden. Where Killian’s portal is going.”
I concentrated hard, feeling for that pull I’d learned to recognize. The magic felt like electricity under my skin, warm in my chest, tugging me toward other dimensions. I focused on the garden, visualizing the roses, the fountain, the stone bench where Killian liked to sit.
The portal opened…To a field. With a very confused farmer staring directly at us.
“Vat in de-” the farmer started.
“Sorry!” I yelled, scrambling to close it.
The portal snapped shut.
Casimya raised one eyebrow. “The garden. Very close.”
“I’m trying!”
“Mama, you’re doing it wrong,” Killian said helpfully, not looking up from his flower-petal game.
“Thank you, baby. Very helpful.”
“You gotta FEEL it. Like this!” He concentrated for maybe half a second and opened a portal directly to the kitchen. I could see the cook kneading dough. “See? Easy!”
“That’s so impressive, sweetheart,” I said, meaning it.
“Yeah!” He beamed at me, then made the portal sparkle. Actually sparkle. With glitter.
“How did you make it sparkle?” I asked.
“I just thought about glitter!”
Casimya was watching him with something like pride. “He has instinctive control. Very rare.”
“Of course he does,” I muttered.
I tried again, really focusing this time. Visualizing the garden. The roses. The fountain. The stone bench.
The portal opened…To underwater.
Water immediately started pouring through, rushing into the training room in a cold, salty torrent.
“Oh no - CLOSE CLOSE CLOSE-”
I slammed it shut, but not before I was completely soaked. My hair was plastered to my face, my clothes were dripping, and there was now a puddle the size of a small pond on the floor.
Casimya and Killian, I noticed, had both calmly stepped aside and were bone dry.
“Better reaction time,” Casimya observed.
“I hate this,” I said, wringing out my hair.
“Mama, you’re all wet,” Killian said.
“Yes. Thank you, baby. I noticed.”
“Most children are better than their parents at something,” Casimya said.
“Usually it’s technology,” I replied.
“Yes. But for you, it’s dimensional travel.”
“That’s worse somehow.”
Killian had gone back to his portal, which he’d now made sparkle in rainbow colors. “Look! I made it PRETTY!”
“Very pretty, sweetheart.”
“Your grandparents were the same,” Casimya said. “Dramatic. Loved showing off.”
I looked at her, still dripping. “Tell me about them?”
“They once portaled someone’s horse into a council meeting.”
I burst out laughing despite my wet misery. “What? Why?”
“Because the person was boring them. They thought a horse would be more interesting.”
“Was it?”
“Much more interesting. The horse had opinions. Very strong opinions about the trade negotiations happening at the time.”
I could picture it. My grandparents, looking innocent while chaos erupted around them. It sounded exactly like something they’d do.
We continued training until the sun started setting. I managed to open three more portals to the correct locations, which Casimya said was progress. I also opened one to what looked like someone’s closet, and one to a snowy mountain peak that sent a blast of freezing air through before I closed it.
“You are improving,” Casimya said as we finished up. “Slower than I’d like, but improving.”
“I opened a portal underwater.”
“But you closed it quickly. You have to see the bright side.”
Killian was doing a little victory dance, spinning in circles with his arms out. “I’m so good at magic! The bes! THE BES AT MAGIC!”
“Best. Yes you are, baby,” I said.
“The bes-t in the whole world!” He spun faster.
“How does he have this much energy?” I asked Casimya. I was exhausted, my clothes were still damp from the underwater incident, and my brain felt wrung out.
“The cookies!” Killian announced, as if that explained everything.
Right. The cookies with chocolate chips he’d negotiated from Sorcha this morning again. He was going to be a hell of a King someday. Unmatched negotiation skills. Plus his sugar rushes lasted all day.
Which reminded me…The guards who’d protected Killian during the assassination attempt.
I’d been meaning to do something meaningful to thank all of them for saving my baby, more so in between the hellshow that was the banquet and how it had brought up terrible opinions about us.
No one had doubted on risking their lives for us and my baby.
Torin had been right there, fighting without hesitation.
Others had helped secure the area, checked on Sorcha, kept Killian safe while Mal was fighting.
I wanted to thank them, and my son had given me the perfect idea to show how grateful I was.
“I want to bake cookies,” I said suddenly. Because homemade cookies from the Queen would be a hell of a gift, wouldn’t it? If they came out right.
Killian stopped spinning. “COOKIES? We’re making cookies?”
“To thank the guards who helped protect you.”
His eyes went huge with excitement. “What kind of cookies?”
“What kind do you want to make?”
“Chocolate chip! No wait, sugar cookies! No wait, BOTH!”
“Both it is.”
“And monster cookies!”
“Monster cookies aren’t a thing.”
“They are now!” He was bouncing again, even more energetic than before.
It didn’t take us long to reach the kitchens. The problem was the castle’s head cook, who looked up as soon as we entered and immediately pointed at the door.
“My kitchen. OUT.”
She was not the warmest person in this castle, but I knew she secretly loved me.
“Please?” I tried my best pleading expression. “We’ll clean up. We’re doing cookies.”
“You will not clean up. You will make a mess and I will clean it.”
I deflated. “Yes. You’re right.”
“At least you’re honest.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Fine. You can use my kitchen. But don’t touch those herbs back there. I’m soaking them for a beverage.”
“Understood. Thank you.”
“And don’t let the boy eat all the dough. He’ll get sick.”
“I’ll try.”
She moved to the other side of the kitchen to give us space. Killian was already dragging a stool to the counter, climbing up with determination. “I’m helping!”
“I know you are, baby.”
Twenty minutes later, the kitchen looked like a flour bomb had exploded.
There was white powder on every surface, including Killian’s hair, face, and somehow the ceiling.
Chocolate chips were scattered across the floor.
Cookie dough was smeared on the counter, the stool, Killian’s shirt, and my dress.
“You’re wearing more flour than the bowl,” I observed.
“It’s EVERYWHERE!” Killian spread his arms, sending up another cloud of white powder.
“How did you get chocolate on your forehead?”
He touched his head, smearing it further. “I don’t know.”
“Stop eating the dough.”
“But it’s GOOD.”
“You’ll get sick, Killian.”
“Oh.” He thought about this for approximately two seconds, then reached for more dough.
“Baby-”
“Sorry, Mama!” He crammed the dough in his mouth anyway, then held up a misshapen blob. “Look! This cookie looks like a scary monster!”
I examined what could generously be called a cookie. It resembled a blob that had lost a fight with gravity. “Very scary.”
“It’s gonna SCARE THE BAD GUYS!”
“It definitely will, sweetheart.”
“I’m making LOTS of scary monsters!” He was already forming another blob with intense concentration.
We made several batches. Chocolate chip, sugar cookies, and approximately fifteen “scary monsters” that looked like nothing in particular but that Killian insisted would terrify any assassins who dared come near.
The cook watched from across the kitchen with a mix of horror and reluctant amusement, shaking her head the entire time.
“You were right,” I called to her. “We’re not cleaning this.”
“I know,” she said. “But you’re making the boy happy. That’s worth the mess. Are you eating all of these?”
“No,” I shook my head, using the already heated mud oven. It had been so hard to get the hang of this damn thing, but I somehow managed. With cook’s help, obviously. “These are thank-yous cookies for the guards, healers and staff. To thank them for their bravery in the attack.”
The cook went silent for a second, his gaze locked on my face. Then she reluctantly admit, “You’re a great Queen, Gwendolyn.”
My heart almost exploded at that. Once the cookies were baked and cooled, we loaded them onto trays. Killian insisted on carrying one himself, even though it was almost as big as he was.
“Where to first?” I asked.
“Torin!” Killian said. “Torin gets TWO scary monsters!”
We found Torin in the guard quarters, going over rotation schedules with a few other guards. He looked up when we entered, and his expression softened when he saw Killian.
“Young prince,” he said, standing. “Your Majesty.”
“We made cookies!” Killian announced, holding up his tray with pride. “This one is a SCARY MONSTER!”