Chapter 17 The Devil’s in the Details
The Devil’s in the Details
The Devil card represents illusion, materialism, and lust for our darkest vices.
“THERE YOU ARE. I think you’ve had enough time with Kenzo …
today.” Professor Vexus stops short when he notices me, drenched, winded, and bruised.
His head swivels between Draven and me, waiting for an explanation.
There’s a narrowed confusion in his gaze, as if he’s unsure what to make of anything.
“You’ll have an extra student today.” Draven takes a long draft from a waterskin.
He and I have both been performing drills with Kenzo for the past half an hour, and we’re slick with sweat.
Draven moves across to me, drawing several Arcana that I’m too exhausted to notice, and after a moment my bruises fade, my sweat giving way to clear skin, hair shining again as if I’ve spent hours styling it.
He gives himself the same effect, donning his shirt and jacket once more, and I carry mine, following Professor Vexus.
“This is … irregular, Draven.” Professor Vexus glares at me over his shoulder. His classes have been informative but awkward. I didn’t fail to notice after Mira’s punishment that he was absent for nearly the same length of time his daughter was.
“If you want me to keep my word, then you’ll accept it.” Draven glances at me only briefly, a reassuring smile fixed in place. Professor Vexus grits his jaw but leads us out of the rotunda and into a small lecture hall, where a few other druids already sit around the room.
They stand when Draven enters the classroom. I jolt when I spot Wynter among them. What is he doing here? What are any of them doing here?
“As I explained to you before, you have been selected to train with Prince Draven … and apparently a guest. My Arcana is the Hierophant, like many professors here, focusing on memory walking, the ability to revisit memories and share them with others.”
Professor Vexus draws his Arcana, and a golden collection of memories from Draven’s previous trainings are projected across the space. Professor Vexus has displayed a little of this magic in our regular classes, and this is his Arcana at the height of its power.
“I also have the ability to alter memories when the card is reversed, which is why you have not heard of these private classes before.” The visions adjust, showcasing some of these same students in this room at a different time.
He meets the eye of every student drawn here, and I watch each of them understand what he’s saying at the same time I do.
“At the end of session your memories will be wiped to protect the heir of our kingdom’s progress or lack thereof, by order of the king.
You will have memories only of whatever classes you were pulled from, the lectures shared with me by your professors. Do you understand?”
Everyone nods, though Wynter’s more reserved about it than the others.
“How do you choose who is pulled for these classes?” I ask Draven.
“It’s random. Mostly. Unless I see someone particularly impressive that I’d like to train with.”
“I haven’t been impressive enough?” I lean closer to him, my shoulder bumping his elbow. He opens his mouth, breaking into a smile as he realizes there’s no good reply to that.
“Third-year Sun Arcana, step forward,” Professor Vexus orders, and the only girl in the group, a broad-shouldered vixen with sun-loved skin steps ahead.
She has the Sun Arcana tattooed on the back of her right hand and she smiles at Draven like she would’ve accepted any excuse to punch him in the face.
Usually I’d agree with her, though I’m starting to become a bit partial to him.
Vexus adds, “This room has been warded by our strongest Emperor Arcana to not take damage, but the same cannot be said for you. We also have a healer on standby but the worse the injury, the longer the healing time.”
The Empress Arcana sits in the corner with her head in a book.
“Well, I hope watching my ass get handed to me all morning cheered you up.” Draven’s voice is quiet, meant for just me, his breath caressing my ear.
He gently puts his hand against my upper back to lead me out of the way.
I step aside but nod, biting my lip to withhold my grin, as he faces off with the Sun Arcana.
She barely waits for me to move before she summons her card, golden plasma pulling from thin air, wrapping her hands with molten fire.
Draven is unintimidated, making everyone wait as he rolls up his sleeves, taking all the time in the world.
Professor Vexus leans against the wall outside the center circle, pinching the bridge of his nose as if teaching these lessons is a personal torture.
Draven finally flicks his hand above his stack of cards at his hip, drawing out the World, then the Sun.
The same kind of fiery magma appears in his hands, burning white instead of gold.
“Good,” Professor Vexus tells him. “Now, without killing each other, I need you to focus on fighting with the goal of helping the prince get a better understanding of how this Arcana works in practice—”
I don’t think she heard the not killing part.
She steps forward, punching outward, and a blast of molten fire blares so hard into the wall behind him it leaves a crater.
A moment later the hole fixes itself by magic, but Draven is still looking between her and the shot he barely ducked.
He grits his teeth, fists coming up defensively, and soon he’s shooting Sun power right back.
She has far more experience though and channels it into a whip of liquid fire, flicking it to snap right by his head.
“Wait, show me how you did that,” he demands.
She stops, put out, but explains how she strings out the magma in her hands.
“Rune,” Wynter whispers.
I move over to him as he glances worriedly at Draven before turning to me.
“Did you get home all right? I … saw Morgan running from your Hearth across the lawns last night. He was missing at breakfast. No one’s seen him since last night.”
“I’m … okay.” What a lie. I fidget on the spot, resisting the urge to bolt.
I hesitate, wondering if I should lay it out for him.
But what if he doesn’t believe me, or believes Morgan?
And if he tells the group … worrying about others leaving me is a burden I haven’t carried in a very long time and the thought takes me off guard. “I don’t really want to get into it.”
“All right.” Wynter looks me over, checking for bruises, but everything on the outside has been healed. He meets my wayward gaze. “As long as you’re okay. That’s all that matters.”
A sense of relief presses through me. Maybe it was stupid to assume he wouldn’t believe me. I try to think of what I can say, his attention wholly on me, but—
“Rune.” Draven’s gaze snaps from me to Wynter, lingering on his face a moment, scrutinizing it as if he’s piecing apart a machine he doesn’t understand. His look softens as it returns to me. Existence narrows to the two of us. “I want you to try this.”
As I return to his side he walks me through the power, his magic pressing through the World, through the Sun until his other hand glows with holy, blinding plasma.
He repeats the steps with me, his eyes narrowing as my magic sputters in response.
A migraine forms, burning behind my eyes.
Finally, the skin on my other hand smokes, the power sparking for a moment before I jolt and the flash of lit sulfur snuffs out.
“Damn it—”
“No, that was good. You’re releasing it.” His gaze consumes me, as he watches my mouth a heartbeat too long. He releases his stare, straightening up, and orders, “First-year, your turn.”
Wynter startles, walking ahead as the Sun Arcana moves over to Professor Vexus.
The professor’s long-fingered hands hover on either side of her head, glowing, and her gaze turns distant.
Then Vexus explains something to her. She leaves, a serene but withdrawn look in her eyes.
I glare suspiciously at Vexus, worried whether I’d ever know if he did something like that to me.
Not if you keep up your wards. Draven’s voice pools inside my mind like a coiled snake. Startled, I focus on that mental firewall, shoving him right back out, but he retreats with ease, as if he’s letting me do it.
“I don’t know what I could teach you,” Wynter admits as he steps up to Draven. There’s no aggression in his shoulders or stance, his expression passive.
Draven holds his arms out to either side and says, “Humor me then. Try to control me.”
After a moment’s hesitation Wynter draws his Arcana, a green light blaring in his eyes as he faces off with Draven.
The prince waits and Wynter’s Arcana lunges forward, snaking around Draven’s feet, then climbs up his body.
I’m not sure what he’s attempting to make Draven do, but I wait, breath held, as he keeps trying.
Wynter has the second most powerful Arcana, Judgment, and he can already do so much with it, whereas I’m struggling for the most meager showing of power.
A ghostly wail begins to grow beneath whatever pressure Wynter applies, but it stems from the magic, not Draven.
All at once Draven’s wings buffet upward, as if he’s casting the spell off.
He lifts his hand and Wynter drops immediately to his knees, bowing low, as if an invisible puppeteer has pressed a giant hand against his spine, shoving him as far as he can naturally bend.
I shoot a warning glance at Draven, but then the haunting glow is gone. Draven releases Wynter, his voice dismissive as he says, “Thank you. You can go.”
Wynter looks to me only once, a fearful flutter in his gaze, before he moves to Professor Vexus. I swallow, uncertain, as I take his place in front of Draven. I open my mental shield just a fraction, an eyehole in a doorway. Did you bring him here just to ridicule him?