Chapter 20 Taera
Taera
Istep inside what appears to be a cross between a classroom and a church—the type of church I’ve only read about. Rows of desks take the place of pews, but the far wall is one vast, swirling stained-glass window.
The room is full of magicians.
They’re nothing and everything I imagined.
Twenty unnatural faces turn on me. Some are almost normal: a pointed, pixie-like face adorned in green ink that dances across her skin like paint come alive.
Others, like an angular face that blurs when I look directly at it, make the hairs rise on my arms. It’s wrong.
Within an entire room of them, Nikolai—and his unearthly beauty—fits perfectly. He shines like a star.
It’s not just the sights that overwhelm me, but the scents. Nikolai’s sage is immediately overpowered by the burn of smoke and tobacco, mixing dizzyingly with vanilla, lavender, mint… and magic. Sharp and abrasive and practically quivering in the air.
“Who’s she?” Eyes flit up and down my body.
“Nikolai’s pulling another prank,” someone says.
“Me?” Nikolai feigns innocence before winking obnoxiously.
I remember my goal of blending in and shudder at the sheer hopelessness of it. With no other option, I try to mimic Nikolai’s confidence and stride into the center of the room.
An unusually tall girl with a waterfall of red curls glances over. I recognize her from the dormitories—Annie. Jezebel prowls in behind us, sleek and feline, and takes a seat with her two sidekicks.
More blue-robed students pool into seats around us, revealing two sets of silver-robed figures at the head of the room.
The shimmering, translucent skin of Head Glassmaster Sen’ko makes my stomach twist. Master Koroy is frowning beside her.
He clearly isn’t happy. The memory of his touch, searing, stinging shock, flares under my skin. I edge closer to Nikolai.
“Head Glassmaster Sen’ko,” Nikolai says, dipping his head with respect. I copy the movement.
“No need to bow to me, darling,” Sen’ko says, and the room goes silent. I realize with horror that she’s addressing me.
“So much for subtle,” Nikolai’s voice murmurs in my ear, and I stiffen. He isn’t even looking toward me; he must be speaking with magic.
“I’m here to welcome the Halls’ newest pupil and personal source of our top student,” Sen’ko says.
Nikolai doesn’t miss a beat. His smile is impeccable as he offers me his arm, then guides me to walk in a slow circle around him, like a horse on display. My legs move stiffly.
“I thought she was a first year,” someone says.
“There is no Taera in first year,” replies Jezebel, eyes narrowing. “I checked.”
“Where did you find her?” Annie asks, her doe eyes wide.
“Our little secret.” The playful lilt in Nikolai’s voice keeps my eyes locked on him. From beneath golden lashes, he smolders with adoration and amusement that—even feigned—leaves me breathless.
“Brilliant idea,” Master Koroy grumbles. “Drop her into Intermediate II. Just wonderful.”
I tear my gaze away from Nikolai, unnerved at how he can enthrall me so easily. Koroy is right: I don’t belong here.
“Don’t be sour, Master Koroy,” Sen’ko sing-songs. “You’ve simply been outwitted by one of your own students.”
I gawk at her. Did she really just say that? Murmurs sweep across the room, and Koroy’s glower darkens, landing squarely on Nikolai.
“I hope you will all learn from this.” Sen’ko turns to the class.
“Even a wee mouse like Taera”—she winks at me—“can claw her way into power by seducing the right conduit. It’s not about who wields power, but who can manipulate it.
It’s not who follows the rules, but who can bend them—bend reality—to their will. ”
I can only stare. If I’m not hallucinating, Sen’ko is praising me.
For exploiting Nikolai. What sort of a lesson is this—encouraging seduction, manipulation, and rule breaking?
I almost laugh at how far that is from the truth, except I’m caught in my horror.
No one should have the power to coat their lies in magic.
That’s all illusionists are: liars in pretty masks.
The flawless features of Sen’ko—of everyone in the Halls of Glass—are as false as their words.
“Have fun!” The Head Glassmaster all but floats out of the room, leaving a trail of mist in her wake.
The deafening silence only lasts a second.
“She must be a phenomenal lay.” Jezebel’s voice rings out.
Laughter assaults me, and I blush furiously. I look to Nikolai, but he’s laughing along with them. My stomach sinks.
“Feisty little thing.” He smirks, eyes crawling up my body. “Likes it rougher than you’d think.”
He turns away, striking up a conversation with Jezebel, and I’m left alone in the center of the room.
Nikolai is like quicksand: I have no clue when he’ll support me or let me drown.
Students stare with eyes of opulent amethyst and solid silver, whispering to each other.
I hold very still, wishing I could melt into the floor. My mind whirls for a way out. But there’s nowhere to run. I’m surrounded by more mages than I’ve ever imagined. The glass glitters on every side, ghosting my pale face back at me.
The sharp clap of Master Koroy’s hands splits the air like the crack of stone. “Enough, or you’ll all be doing solitary drills for a week.”
The room bursts into motion, shuffling like a deck of cards. Students collect into pairs, along with a few groups of threes. Not a single student comes near me.
Being ignored is good, right? But my confidence erodes as every magician shifts away from me, until I’m left alone in the center of the room.
“We don’t start until the new source has a partner,” Koroy barks.
The room is uncomfortably silent. Most of the class slides their gaze to Nikolai, who scoffs and raises his brows.
I know he hates me, but it still stings.
“Who’s going to work with her?” Master Koroy paces across the front of the room.
No one moves.
Not a step.
Not a raised hand.
“I can work by myself,” I offer. Too late, I remember Nikolai’s instructions and shut my mouth.
Master Koroy stares at me as though I’ve sprouted a second head. “You do know that magic requires both a source and a conduit, don’t you?”
I stare blankly. A fraction too long.
It’s enough.
Cold laughter chimes out from Jezebel, who steps forward.
“She has no idea what a source even is.” She sounds delighted, her sparkling, catlike gaze dancing between me and Nikolai, hungry for a reaction.
He remains by her side and shrugs, expressionless and uncaring.
When he turns away, I force myself to hold my head up high.
It shouldn’t matter what he, or any of these magicians, think of me.
“That’s a special kind of ignorance,” Koroy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“In Intermediate II?”
“This has to be a joke.”
Master Koroy scowls. “We don’t start until somebody partners with our newest student.”
“You can’t actually expect us to,” someone mutters.
“Every minute you keep me waiting comes off your exam time,” he barks, his face reddening.
That gets their attention.
Some sort of hierarchical argument unfolds between the students, along with a great deal of whispered threats I can’t quite make out. No one looks at me; they look at each other, bickering over who shouldn’t have to work with me. Finally, after what feels like hours, someone takes a step forward.
His face is tan, with strong cheekbones and earthy dark hair. He looks more human than most, perhaps a sign of his lower standing among the magicians.
“Took you long enough,” Master Koroy says. “Now, why doesn’t our newest student give us a demonstration. To remind us of everything mastered in Introductory I, Introductory II, and Intermediate I.”
My blood drains cold. A demonstration. Of magic I’ve never even touched.
Every eye swivels back to me. Hungry. Waiting for me to fail.