Chapter 57
Maeve
THE brONZE-SKINNED BOARD MEMBER LEANS forward. “Before your demonstration, we’d like to hear more about you.” She gives me a small smile. “Tell us more about your magic.”
Professor Azula told me that the board would treat my demonstration in this way: like an interview process. So I’m prepared, even if my heart thrums a tiny bit faster as I swallow and find my words.
“I have storm magic,” I say, lifting one hand and calling sparks of lightning to my fingertips.
The electricity dances from finger to finger, drawing the gazes of the two board members, though they don’t look particularly impressed, more curious than anything. Even though storm magic is rare, I don’t doubt that there are many more powerful practitioners in the Arcanum Collective.
“But what I’m most interested in,” I continue as I flick the sparks away and lower my hand, “is energy—how it can be shaped and wielded for good. To help people.” Clasping my hands loosely in front of me, I glance toward Severin, who’s watching me through dark narrowed eyes, then back to the board members.
“I want to explore methods to bring stable magical energy to nonmagic communities.”
“Why?” asks the other board member, an older man with wire-rimmed spectacles.
“Because . . .” I take a breath and exhale it slowly, sending my tinge of nervousness out with it.
This is my moment to show the fellowship board who I really am and what I stand for; all I need to do is be truthful.
“Because I don’t believe the benefits of magic should be limited to those born with it.
If we can harness storm magic safely and make energy accessible to struggling communities, we can improve living conditions and change the balance of opportunity. ”
“Your essay reflects your conviction, Miss Vandermere,” the bronze-skinned woman says, holding up the parchment I so painstakingly pored over. “We found your words to be . . . refreshingly energetic.”
She shares a smile with her fellow board member, and I use the brief moment to glance at Professor Azula, who gives me a conceding upward tilt of her lips and a nod of her head.
And behind her, Severin continues to stare, his dark hair falling forward around his face, making no outward indication of what he feels.
But in my chest, the bond between us warms.
And I know he’s proud of me, even if he can’t show it.
It helps loosen the last bit of tension still trying to cling to me.
“Very well,” the bespectacled man says. “You may begin your demonstration, Miss Vandermere.”
I nod once. “With pleasure,” I say.
I take a small step back and draw a steadying breath.
And I recall all the effort I’ve put in, all the nights up on that tower when everyone else was asleep.
I see the glint of moonlight on my blade as Severin guided me through drills meant to strengthen my focus and balance.
And I feel the joy that filled me when I first successfully held the sphere together.
Now, all of those moments combine.
This is my moment to shine, to show them what I can do, to prove I deserve a place in their collective.
I close my eyes.
The chamber fades. The cold touching my skin diminishes. And all that remains is the familiar thrum of storm magic running through my veins, pulsing just beneath my skin, begging to be released.
I open my eyes and lift my hands out in front of me. A faint crackle of white-blue light sparks between my fingers. The air shifts as I begin to draw on the energy both inside of and outside of my body. A current tugs at the hem of my skirt and lifts loose strands of my hair.
Tendrils of brilliant energy bloom between my palms. I begin to shape them carefully, like a weaver sitting before a tapestry, creating something one painstaking strand at a time.
I draw on months of practice, on countless failures and moments of frustration and small tastes of victory.
The energy sphere begins as a tiny ball of light.
Then it grows. It gets bigger, brighter.
As it grows, I stabilize it.
And when it’s a thrumming sphere of energy crackling and pulsing between my palms, I hold it. My muscles begin to tremble from the amount of power it takes.
This is what I always struggled with. This is the moment where the sphere would typically explode, sending sparks zooming in all directions.
Now, for a split second, it wavers. The board members lean forward, watching me with focused attention as the surface of the sphere ripples. One tiny web of lightning jumps from the sphere, biting my wrist.
My pulse spikes. In response, my fingers curl, my grip tightening, my instincts telling me to control the energy.
But I stop myself. I know now how to contain it without trying to force it into submission.
Storm energy doesn’t want to be static.
I said it to Severin that very first day in class together. And though I knew then that what I’d said was true, now I feel it in my bones, in every beat of the magical blood running through my veins.
And I feel it in my bond with Severin, in this frayed thing that begs me with every breath to heal it, to fix what’s been broken.
I breathe deeply, letting my fingers uncurl, just slightly. I let the energy move, inviting it into a dance rather than trying to leash it.
Almost immediately, the surface of the sphere becomes glasslike, bursts of lightning threading through it in hypnotizing patterns, bathing the entire practice chamber in cool silver light.
For a brief moment, I allow myself to glance past Professor Azula.
Severin is watching me, but his face is no longer that cold expressionless mask I’ve come to know so well. Instead, his eyes have widened, his mouth is parted slightly, and beneath my sternum, I feel him. And it feels right. Having him there feels like home.
I smile and turn my focus back to my sphere. It continues to dance, no longer fighting, still gleaming brilliantly.
“That’s enough,” the female board member says.
With a nod, I allow the energy to dissipate, like the petals of a soft flower floating away on a summer breeze. When the last tendril of lightning has disintegrated, I drop my arms to my sides, muscles trembling slightly from the power required to hold the sphere steady.
Someone claps. I look up and meet Headmistress Moonhart’s blue eyes. She’s beaming at me, her cheeks rosy in the chill air, a look of joy written plainly across her face. The others join in, giving me a short and polite round of applause.
Except for Severin. He’s still just watching me with that same expression. And I realize I want to know what he thinks, what’s running through his mind. I miss him. I miss his voice, his touch, the way the air feels when he moves through a room.
And I decide that after this, I need to tell him that. No more holding back.
“Thank you, Miss Vandermere.” The board member adjusts his spectacles and glances at the witch beside him, then back to me. “You’ve given us quite a lot to discuss and consider. We thank you for your time. But unless you have any other questions for us, I believe you’re free to begin your holiday.”
None of the others speak up. So I nod my head once, trying to contain my smile. “Thank you.”
Headmistress Moonhart gives me a little wink as I walk by, and I’m pretty sure that’s a good sign.
I grab my robe from the hook on the wall, then slip out of the practice chamber and into the cold corridor. All around me, the halls are quiet, the castle having emptied of students.
Leaning on the cool stone wall, I try to catch my breath. My hands and muscles still tremble. And as I look down at my fingers, I let out a tiny laugh.
Because I did it. I trusted myself, I trusted my magic and my instincts, and I did what I set out to do. Whatever they decide now, I know I did my best. And whatever decision they make, it doesn’t impact how I feel about myself or my magic.
I know who I am and what I stand for.
With conviction, I reach for the bond connecting my heart to Severin’s. It flares with delicious heat, reminding me that it’s been waiting there all this time, hoping for me to acknowledge it, fighting not to burn out.
My heart stutters. There’s one last thing I need to do before I leave the castle for Yule.
I push away from the cold wall, and as I slip my arms into the sleeves of my robe and start down the corridor, I smile, already knowing where I’m going.