Chapter 8
Alandris’s study was more whimsical than I’d imagined it being.
I’d pictured structure, rigid lines, arrogant decor, not a speck of dust, not an item out of place.
Instead, I was met with colorful plants and flowers, a mix of textures and patterns, and shelves full to the brim with not only books, but tiny treasures that drew my eyes in every direction.
It was still luxurious in the way the rest of the Consortium was, but it had a surprising dash of character.
Based on his curious design choices alone, I had half a mind to consider that I may have judged him too soon, but then I looked at the grimace painted on his face and decided my initial assessment had been correct after all.
“Drink this,” he commanded, handing me a glass of water.
I huffed a laugh. “I’m not drunk. All I did was forget about our training appointment. We’d barely gotten started when you stormed in.” I left out the bit where I’d blatantly blown off our training in an attempt to gain information about him and the Consortium from one of his close friends.
He continued to hold the glass out in front of himself until I conceded and grabbed it from him. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt… once,” he warned. “Don’t be late again.”
“You don’t trust me.”
He paused, staring at me in confusion.
“You shouldn’t. The feeling is mutual.” I set the glass down on his desk. “You’re forcing me to train this magic that—honestly—I want nothing to do with. You’re not doing so out of the goodness of your heart. I am a stranger to you. You want something from me.”
“It doesn’t matter if you want nothing to do with your magic.” He snapped his fingers and let a flicker of flame dance between them. “It is a part of you. Either you master it or it masters you.”
“And you want to help me, why?”
He raised a brow. “Have you considered that I’m not a horrible person?”
“No. It is never that simple.”
“That is one thing you are correct about. I do have my reasons, Nairu, and they are indeed complicated, but I have no ill intent in training you.”
Alandris didn’t have an obvious tell, something that would condemn him as a liar.
He never broke eye contact, never twitched, wet his lips, or busied his hands elsewhere.
He stared straight into my eyes as he spoke with unwavering confidence.
Believing him would be easy—dangerous. But I’d promised myself, after everything, that I would never place my trust in someone who hadn’t earned it.
If Alandris wanted me to believe he had good intentions, he would have to show me.
I picked the glass back up and finished off the water. “Let’s start.”
I wasn’t drunk in the slightest, but there was something dizzying about having Alandris standing so close behind me, his hand pressed onto my shoulder.
Close enough to feel the whisper of his breath against my neck as he instructed me.
Close enough to breathe him in and be able to tell you the exact bath oil he’d used—lavender.
And close enough that my nerves were shattered, causing me to make the same foolish mistakes over and over.
“Do you have to touch me?” It came out softer and far more exasperated than I’d intended.
“I’ve explained this already,” he hummed, more amused than irritated by having to repeat himself.
“Those dark tendrils that appear on your skin result from your body’s inability to sustain the sheer amount of magic you are releasing.
It is quite literally eating you alive. You can pass some of that magic through me to lessen its effect on you. ”
“Doesn’t it hurt you?”
I could tell he was smirking without even seeing it. “Are you worried about me?”
“Don’t be stupid.” I summoned my magic to my palm as if that would prove it.
According to my infuriating teacher, my issue during the lesson on magical shields was that I was trying too hard to be precise in how I blocked.
I focused my efforts on covering the exact area of impact with overlap, instead of gauging the general area of the hit.
This left me with little to no time to focus on hardening the shadows into something solid.
Apparently, if I’d opted to shield a larger area, forgoing precision, I would’ve expended less energy and time.
Alandris had explained that was how he’d blocked Quinn’s attack against me in almost no time at all.
I forced as much magical energy out at once as I could and solidified it before us.
Where Alandris’ flames had exploded in front of me like a brick wall, my shadows were more like a disc—smaller than a standard shield, but larger than my forearm.
It was better, but nowhere near perfect.
No longer flimsy, but not sturdy enough to deflect a legitimate sword.
And despite Alandris’ assistance, it hurt to draw upon my magic.
I turned in frustration, ready to complain about how his ideas weren’t working, and watched as he quickly yanked his hand back, tucking it into the front pocket of his pants.
“Let me see.”
His eyes narrowed, considering, and then a smile lit his face. “Is something the matter?”
Such a fake smile. I grabbed for his wrist and brought his hand between us.
Black, inky tendrils covered nearly every visible part of his skin.
They traveled up past the cuff of his shirt, beyond what I could see.
I knew the pain—the stinging burn of them—and couldn’t understand why he hadn’t stopped our session.
I loosened my grip. “Why? Why didn’t you say something?”
“I’ve experienced worse.”
All you are is suffering. All you do is hurt.
My eyes widened at the sound of the sinister voice curling in the corners of my mind.
You don’t belong here, little monster. We are better on our own. How many more people do you have to destroy before you understand?
A shooting pain traveled up my spine and pulsed through my head.
I winced, digging my fingers into my temple as I bent at the waist. My heart raced, a cold sweat flushed my skin, and nausea roiled the contents of my stomach until I could barely breathe.
Short, quick breaths were not enough, but it was all I could do to stop from suffocating.
The room went out of focus, my eyes struggling to steady with the rest of me.
I felt strong hands cup the side of my face, but I couldn’t fully register the male in front of me. “Look at me, Nairu.” Alandris’ voice was faded, but it was the only thing grounding me. “I’m here with you… just look into my eyes. We’ll breathe together, alright?”
I nodded, beginning to see him clearly. The crystalline blue of his eyes. His dark lashes. I counted them with every inhale and exhale.
“That’s good.” He nodded along with me, rubbing his thumbs along my cheeks in a slow, circular pattern.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but at some point, the room came back into focus, and I could hear something other than the blood coursing through my veins.
The panic had passed and left in its wake was the crippling exhaustion and embarrassment that I’d let Alandris witness me in such a vulnerable state.
I hadn’t had time to get somewhere private to deal with it myself.
He’d been there, coaxing me through it. That hadn’t fully processed yet. He’d been there for me.
I took a step back from him, escaping his hold on me. “I—well, thank you, and I’m sorry.”
He dragged his eyes over me, as though checking for injury. “Has this happened before?”
“When I fought that Fae—Jyuri—on the ship. Something similar happened when I used my magic. It became unbearably painful and I….”
I didn’t think it was best to mention that I’d been hearing a voice in my head, or seeing a twisted version of myself in the mirror. Not only to Alandris, but to anyone. I needed to figure out what was going on before I admitted to absolutely losing it. What had just happened was bad enough….
Alandris ran a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. “This shouldn’t be happening.”
“It’s probably stress,” I explained, but he’d stopped looking at me and was pacing the room, focusing on some thought in his head.
“It may be best if we cut back on these individual lessons. Once a week will suffice. Let’s take things slow until we know how your magic will affect you. There are things I hadn’t taken into consideration. I will need to reassess our situation.”
He was half talking to himself, half talking to me, but I still responded, “sure, slow.”
“We’ll stop for today.” He looked up at me. “Do you want me to walk you back?”
“No. No, I’m fine.”
I practically sprinted out of his study and back to my room. There were several reasons I needed to get away from Alandris. When I entered the door, I was so distracted by my racing thoughts I nearly missed Luelle sitting on her bed thumbing through a book.
“Nairu, are you well?” She asked, lifting her head. “You look absolutely haggard.”
I glanced at the mirror on the wall and stiffened.
For one, she was right. The color had completely drained from my face, leaving my skin with a deathly gray sheen.
My under eyes were darker yet, and the white of my eyes were spotted red with burst blood vessels.
Beyond my ghastly appearance, the sight of the mirror made my skin crawl.
If I weren’t sharing the room with someone else, I would’ve taken it down or covered it.
I wanted nothing that reminded me of the monster tormenting me.
“I’m tired, is all. I was training with Alandris, and it was tougher than I expected.”
She raised a brow. “Oh?”
“No.” I plopped down on my bed, sinking into the mattress. “Not ‘oh’. Very much not ‘oh’.”
“I wasn’t implying anything.”
“Oh?” I parroted back to her.
Luelle set down her book, a playful smile lighting up her face.
“However, if I were an observant person who prided myself on possessing a wealth of knowledge on various subjects, I would tell you that not once in the history of ever has the Grand Arch Magus personally trained anyone.” She coughed into her fist. “Ever.”
“And if I were someone who was well-versed in how to read someone’s behavior, I would tell you he thinks I’m a liability, that I’m too far behind the other Mages, and that he can eventually use me for something if he trains me.
” I thought of his reaction to my panic attack—the genuine concern and care he’d shown.
“And that if he isn’t a complete ass, maybe I’d willingly let him… use me.”
“Your magic is interesting, definitely. I’ve never seen anything like it. But there are a lot of powerful Mages here, far beyond our capabilities. If the Grand Arch Magus wanted power, it’d make sense to appeal to them.”
“Maybe he is.”
“Maybe, but he’s taken a peculiar interest in you specifically.” She put a finger to her cheek. “Curious.”
I buried myself under my pillow. “I do not want to speak of Alandris anymore.”
“Alandris, huh?” She giggled. “Get some rest, Nairu.”
I knew she was teasing me based on my use of his name rather than his title, but I didn’t have the energy to fight back, so I would have to own my little slip up. I grumbled something indiscernible and failed at my attempt to toss a pillow in her direction.