Chapter 30 Isi #2
The other warriors were already doing amazing things with their companions.
Lexie had started to tap into Levar’s magic and levitated herself about a foot off the floor.
She fell back down and even landed on her ass, but she laughed and leaped up.
Sweeping up her badger, she twirled it around while it made high-pitched squeaks of joy.
Even Beau was teaching Bryson. A flick of the older man’s finger, and the corner of one of the mats caught fire.
Nia put it out quickly with magic and lifted her voice as she spoke to him.
“This is why we learn together. Do not practice drawing power or wielding it outside our classroom, not until you’ve been granted permission by me or one of the other instructors.
And even then, there are strict guidelines.
Use only simple spells you’ve proven you’ve perfected. ”
“Like what?” Kerralyn asked, taking notes in her journal.
“Tugging a platter of food closer. Lifting clothing off the floor to place in a basket. When you’re ready, we’ll give you the list.”
“So no battling Skathes yet, then,” Maddox said, using magic to lift a sword off the wall and sweep it through the air to him. He jumped up and grabbed the hilt, landing squarely on his boots before slashing the blade around and poking it in my direction.
“Maddox,” Nia said with an edge in her voice. She removed it from his grip with power and returned it to the wall. “No threatening others. Save that for the sparring mat.”
“Oh, I will.” His sneering gaze met mine. “Believe me, I will.”
Nia clapped her hands. “Back to work. We have at least an hour left for practice before you’re dismissed.” She slanted a sharp look my way but didn’t say anything, only turned to Derren and helped him hone his magic-fueled lifting skills with various objects left on a table for this purpose.
I wiggled my fingers until my knuckles cracked. Around me, magic hummed through the hall, from the faint tang of smoke from Maddox’s sleek black cat, to the dry, mineral scent of Kerralyn’s mole. Overhead, faelights shone down, putting my insufficiencies in full view.
Maddox struck out with power, toppling one of the heavy training dummies, and it hit the stone floor like a felled tree. Nia didn’t even look, just flicked her fingers, and the dummy righted itself with a thunk.
“Good job,” she said. “Move onto the larger dummy, if you please.”
Maddox sent me a slick grin and continued practicing.
I slunk lower against the wall.
Laughter rippled through the group. Easy, warm, and in a language I couldn’t speak. Maddox grinned at something Bryson said, shaking his head in mock disbelief. Inside jokes were already forming, threads of camaraderie winding between them while I stood on the outside.
When Nia praised Maddox for his control, he smirked at me as if he’d scored a personal victory. I gave him nothing back, but the burn landed anyway.
That’s when the hair on my neck prickled.
I glanced toward the viewing gallery above. The glass caught the faelight, turning the surface into a sheet of gold, hiding whoever might be behind it.
The thought of disappointing him stung more than I wanted to admit. His opinion of me shouldn’t matter. I had a purpose here that may not involve him.
Finally, Nia’s gaze swept over the room, lingering on each of us in turn.
“That’s enough for today,” she said. “We’ll keep working on control in the next class.”
She gave Kerralyn a smile as we passed her, and oddly enough, Kerralyn blushed.
I fell in behind my friends in the hall as they chatted about how excited they were to be learning magic, how wonderful their companions were, and what they hoped to accomplish the next day.
My feeling of isolation only deepened.
We stepped into the dining hall and paused, scanning the long tables full of magic-wielders stretching beneath banners that shifted from the power being used throughout the room.
Platters appeared and vanished in soft bursts of light; bowls refilled themselves in front of diners with a faint shimmer, and pitchers held by no one kept gliding this way and that, topping off mugs with the person’s select beverage.
I slid onto a bench beside Lexie, the wood worn smooth from generations of bodies. Across from us, Maddox dropped into his usual seat, his companion still perched on his shoulder. The cat blinked as she watched me as intently and with the same heat as Maddox.
He’d told her what I’d done. Or what he believed I’d done. And I was sure his story placed the blame for Jaxon’s death squarely on me.
A shadow fell over me before I’d even tugged a trencher in front of my seat. Heat chased it—Trew’s heat—rolling off him in waves as he passed behind my chair. The brush of his fingers across my shoulders might’ve been accidental. My pulse kicked up traitor-fast anyway.
Lexie watched Trew continue toward the dais with lifted eyebrows before turning sparkling eyes my way. “Well, wasn’t that interesting?”
“He was just making his way to his chair.” My voice sounded defensive even to my own ears.
“Of course he was. I’ve never seen him walk through the open room before.” She waved. “He always enters through that door. I heard the hallway beyond leads to a back staircase that will take you directly to his room.” Her lips quirked up. “Assuming someone might, you know, want to visit his suite.”
I scrunched my nose. “Who’d want to do that?”
“Kira for one. Maybe you.”
“Not me.”
“Hmm.”
We tugged trenchers near and filled them from platters in the center of the table, starting to eat after.
Lexie nudged me with her shoulder. “After dinner, we’re going to the Mistvale Inn.
It’s in the valley behind the castle. There’s a small village there, made up mostly of people who work in the castle.
And the inn, of course.” She frowned. “I think there are three inns, actually. Anyway. Drinks, dice games, maybe a little light dice cheating if Derren’s in the mood. ”
Derren, sitting on her other side, lifted a brow. “I don’t cheat.”
“You win more than probability allows,” she said sweetly.
The corner of my mouth tugged, but the weight in my chest didn’t lift along with it. “Thanks, but I’m going to turn in early.”
Lexie’s brows knit. “You’re sure? You look like you could use a distraction.” Her gaze lingered on me, as if she might push, might ask what was really going on. But whatever she saw in my eyes made her close her mouth again.
“I’m sure.” The truth was, a distraction would’ve been welcome if the empty space on my shoulder wasn’t already reminding me of how far behind I was falling.
Lexie let it drop, turning back to Derren to argue over whether the Mistvale Inn would serve the best wine in the village.
I picked at my bread and roasted root vegetables with a side of grilled pork, the flavors brightened by a drizzle of something tart, and kept my gaze focused there, ignoring the pull to glance toward the dais.
I lasted all of three bites before I lifted my gaze.
Trew sat in his throne as though he’d been carved there, his cinderhawk preening one wing where it perched on the tall back. Trew’s eyes found mine instantly, and he did not look away.
Kira said something to him, but when he didn’t respond, her smile cooled. She glanced at me before turning her attention to her meal.
We finished, and my friends left for the inn while I climbed the stairs to my chamber. Inside, I leaned against the door and rubbed my face.
The quiet hit harder than I expected.
I bumped off the door and paced the length of my chamber twice before stopping in the middle, restless energy clawing across my skin. I ditched my boots and stiff leathers, not using magic to place them in the basket, though I doubted I could, and dressed in a soft tunic and pants.
After shifting some of the smaller furniture out of the way, I warmed up for a bit, then sank into the first of the forms Commander Thorne had drilled into me years ago, fluid, deliberate movements meant to find their own rhythm.
Step. Pivot. Strike.
The tension bled out of me with each motion, replaced by the familiar burn in my muscles and the grounding pull of my own breath.
Block. Turn. Kick.
I moved through the forms again and again, until the thoughts circling my head slowed enough for the room to come back into focus. The pale stone walls. The bed tucked beneath the window. The wardrobe still holding all the clothes I suspected Trew had given me.
By the time I stopped, my pulse had steadied, and while the emptiness remained, it had quieted enough I could think.
I drifted around the room, lifting one object after another, things left behind by prior warriors. A small jewelry box empty except for a solitary red-stone earring. They’d probably lost the other and left this one behind.
A watercolor painting hanging to the left of the wardrobe, a rather good impression of the castle. Three polished stones rested on the top of the bookcase. And a pottery bowl that might’ve been used to hold trinkets.
I let my fingers trail across the books lined up on the top shelf. Most were on military strategy, dense, leather-bound tomes whose weight I could feel without even lifting them. Siege mechanics. Supply-line disruption. Counterspell grids.
But then I touched something that hadn’t been there when I looked before. A book with swirling patterns on the spine had been tucked between two thick volumes.
I pulled it free.
The deep green cover held a gold title nearly rubbed away. The Clever Maidens of Corvale he’s an idiot.
The lady in this scene reminds me of you. Tell me if I’m wrong.
I climbed onto my bed and leaned against the headboard, letting the book rest open in my lap.
It was getting very hard not to like Trew.
Lifting the book, I began to read.
The words blurred on the page long before I admitted I was too tired to keep reading. With a sigh, I set the book aside and padded into the bathing room.
Steam curled across my skin as the tub filled on its own, scented faintly with flowers.
After stripping and unbinding my hair, I sank into the water, letting the heat unknot my muscles and ease the last of my earlier frustration.
For a few blissful moments, nothing but the sound of the water shifted around me.
I found the weightless drift of my hair soothing.
My arm wound had scabbed over and my back no longer ached, though I still sported some impressive bruising.
I bathed, scrubbing until my skin and hair squeaked, then leaned back again, savoring the way my body floated in the water.
When the water cooled, I climbed out, drying myself before tugging on my nightshirt. The cool air raised goosebumps on my damp skin. I padded barefoot back into the main room, stopping in the doorway, frowning.
Something caught the light on the floor, glinting from a shadowed corner, beyond the narrow chest I’d shoved aside earlier to practice forms. A speck of blue, as deep and pure as a summer sky over snowfields.
I strode over and crouched, reaching for it, my pulse tripping into a strange, uneven rhythm.
Smooth and cold in my palm, it was no bigger than a pinky nail, but the shade was unmistakable—the same rare, icy blue of my sister Addie’s eyes. My eyes. The same as our mother’s.
My breath caught as I yanked my pendant from beneath my nightshirt. The filigree setting was still empty at the top, the spot where one of the stones should’ve been gaping like a missing tooth.
I pressed the stone into the spot, and it slid in perfectly, fitting with a finality that made my throat ache.
I sank onto the floor, leaning against the wall, the room tilting around me.
Addie had been here.
Not just inside the castle, but here.
In this very room.