15. Syneca #2
The feather was carved into dark wood, so black the details of the carving were lost in the shadows of the hall. I stroked my fingers down the etching. The door swung open.
Dez was already halfway down the stairs. “I love that trick.”
We descended into what could only be described as catacombs. Stone walls. Low ceilings. The smell of earth and old magic. A gargoyle perched by a secondary door at the bottom, wings folded, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
“Morning, Grimble,” Dez said cheerfully.
The gargoyle grumbled.
“He’s not a morning person,” Dez whispered far too loudly.
Grimble closed his eyes and began to snore.
The door beyond opened into a space that probably shouldn’t have existed below the manor, but as we took the steps down, I let go of the notion we were beneath the home at all because it seemed these doors held their own magic.
The arena was massive and circular. The ceiling, lost in shadow above us.
Silas stood in the center of the dirt ground, hands behind his back, waiting.
Even in the dim light of the catacombs, he was unfairly attractive.
Bronze skin. That pure black hair that reminded me of the griffin.
My heart immediately ached when I thought of my companion.
When I remembered meeting the real Silas meant losing my familiar.
Still, his sharp features were as severe as the curve of his mouth, currently set in a scowl that somehow made his allure worse.
He was dressed simply. Dark shirt. Darker pants. Nothing that should have drawn attention.
My pulse kicked anyway.
I hated that I noticed. Hated more that my eyes caught on the breadth of his shoulders, the way he stood, violence at rest, waiting. Heat crept along my neck; not magic, just the mortifying realization that I was staring. I looked away before he could catch me.
Lore leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I was about to have a very bad day.
Silas held out a candle without preamble. “Light it.”
Pip darted toward Lore.
I took the candle. Stared at the wick. Reached for the magic that had failed me yesterday. “Ignis.”
Nothing happened.
“Try again.”
I did. Same result.
Dez settled onto a bench near Lore, getting comfortable like he was settling in for a show. “You know, I could help.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not fine. You’re staring at that candle like it’s the one that locked you in the Underworld.”
I ignored him and tried again. Nothing.
“See, what you need is proper instruction from someone with a teaching style that doesn’t involve making you want to commit murder.”
Silas didn’t even look at him. “Dez.”
“I’m just saying, I have a gift. People respond well to my methods.”
“Your methods involve flirting until they get so annoyed they accidentally succeed out of spite,” Silas bit out, still refusing to look at him.
“It’s a proven technique.” Dez leaned forward. “What do you say, Syn? Want to see what a real teacher looks like?”
“Leave me alone or I will burn your fucking dick off.”
His cocky smile grew. “Maybe get that candle to light before moving on to bigger and better things.”
I glared and whispered the spell again, staring at the brute. The heat came in a rush. Not to the candle. To him. Dez yelped, leaping up and batting at his crotch where small flames had erupted. “Shit! Shit shit shit.”
“Huh. Apparently I just needed more motivation.”
Lore burst out laughing. “I win! Told you she was going to light you on fire before the candle. You owe me five talons.”
“It’s all fun and games until someone has to explain burn marks to their tailor,” Dez muttered, still patting himself down to make sure nothing was actively burning.
“Don’t take it personally,” Lore said, locking eyes with me. “He’s a sore loser. You should have seen him when the Ashborne beat the Thornguard. He pouted for a week.”
“If I’d have known you were paying that much attention to my feelings, Lorie-Book, I would have milked it longer. But as we can all see, I was right. She did it.”
“Can we please focus?” Silas barked, silencing everyone. He turned back toward me. “You’re pulling from the wrong place. Try again.”
I tried. Failed.
“Focus. Stop thinking. Just do it. You have so much power. You just have to find the path there.”
I could feel his magic through the bond. Felt him feeding me just enough magic to keep trying but pulling back every time I almost succeeded.
“You’re toying with me.”
“I’m teaching you. There’s a difference.”
“You almost had it that time, Syn!” Pip called from where she’d perched on a stone ledge. “Try again!”
Silas kept pushing. Relentlessly. No patience. Just commands that came faster, sharper, colder.
“Again.” A pause. “Again.”
My hands shook and exhaustion crept through my limbs, making everything harder.
“Again.”
I reached for the fire.
Nothing.
“You’re not focusing.”
I glared at him. “I am.”
“Then you’re doing it wrong.” He crossed his arms. “Pull from your center. Not your hands. Your center.”
“I don’t know what that means.” Frustration bled into my voice. “I’ve never pulled magic from my center. I’ve always—”
“You’ve always pulled from me,” he interrupted. “Through the bond. That’s not your magic. That’s borrowed power. This is different.”
“Then explain it differently.”
He took a casual step toward me, jaw tightening. “I just did.”