Chapter Thirty-Three Riela
Chapter Thirty-Three
Riela
I stared at Garrick, waiting for him to laugh and take it back, but his expression remained calm, serious, and sympathetic.
I shook my head. There was no way I was half Etheri. They were creatures of myth and legend, as powerful as gods and just
as dangerous.
And I was not.
Not only that, but my father also hadn’t breathed a word about it, even on his deathbed—and he’d had time. Not a lot, but
enough to mention something this important. And in the final moments, when he’d been rambling and incoherent, he’d said nothing
about magic or Etheri.
Garrick was wrong.
He had to be. Still . . . “Is there any way to tell if I’m Etheri or not?”
“All human mages have at least one Etheri ancestor, but based on the strength of your magic, your connection is likely only
one or two generations removed.”
Perhaps it shouldn’t be a shock that all mages were descended from Etheri, but it was.
None of the books I’d read had even hinted at it.
Except . . . I paused with a frown. The story of the princesses had, in a roundabout sort of way.
Whoever had altered the story to make the Etheri princess human had also added a paragraph
about how their children had been blessed by the saints as mages.
Was someone rewriting history? Or was it such common knowledge in magical circles that no one deemed it worth mentioning?
Either way, even if my mother wasn’t Etheri, I still wasn’t fully human. Perhaps the other villagers had sensed that difference—and
why I’d never quite fit, as much as I’d tried.
Garrick continued, oblivious to the fact that he’d just casually upended everything I knew about myself.
“Other than waiting a hundred years to see if you’re still alive, the best test is in Lohka.
If you are Etheri, your natural glamour will dissolve, revealing your true appearance.
For powerful Etheri, the change is slight.
For others, it can be more significant.”
“So I might not look like myself in Lohka?”
“You might not look like yourself here,” Garrick corrected.
I put aside the argument and refocused. “How am I going to open the door with my magic sealed?”
“The same way you did it before.”
“Wounded and fearing for my life?” I asked, eyebrows high.
Garrick’s sigh was equal parts frustration and reluctant amusement. “With your current power,” he corrected.
“Because that’s worked so well thus far,” I grumbled. “Couldn’t you just unseal my magic and see what happens? If something
goes wrong, you can reapply the seal.”
“It’s not that easy. Breaking the seal could kill you. And if you survived, but we needed to reapply it for your safety, then you would have to trust me completely or your
magic would fight me. And you have far more power now than you did as a baby. I’m not sure I could apply the same seal again, even with your cooperation.”
One possible future—the one where Garrick sealed my magic so I could leave the forest—winked out. I hadn’t really been considering it, but it still felt like a door slamming in my face, narrowing my options.
What happened when I had no options left?
I shook off the melancholy thought. If I ran out of options, then I would make new ones. I glared at the pastry sitting innocently
on the edge of the fountain. “How do I steal the sticky bun with my magic sealed?”
“First, you need to connect with your magic.” He gestured to Grim. “Go hide.” When the magical wolf disappeared into the greenery,
Garrick returned his attention to me. “Use your magic to find him in the garden.”
I focused and let my power spread through the space like delicate, gossamer waves. This was one area where my magic actually obeyed me, so it only took me a minute to locate Grim’s magic signature in the far corner.
“Found him,” I said, pointing.
Garrick nodded, and his power spiked. A moment later, Grim vanished from my magical sight. At my frown, Garrick smiled. “He’s
still in the courtyard. Find him again.”
I pushed my magic farther, until it brushed up against the walls of the castle, but I couldn’t sense Grim. I let my magic
drift, getting used to the flow. It took several minutes for the pattern to emerge. There was a spot nearby where my magic
swirled around a tiny void. Pushing more magic at it didn’t do anything.
I pointed at the void. “He’s there. I can’t sense him exactly, but I can sense where my magic isn’t.”
Garrick’s smile deepened. “Correct. Some Etheri can hide their magic, but they can’t hide completely. Once you are more aware
of your surroundings, you will be able to find them as easily as if they weren’t hidden.”
“Is that why you used the flower circlet?”
He nodded. “You found Grim because of the absence of magic. The flowers make that much more difficult.” He tipped his head
to the side. “How does it feel to use your magic like this?”
“Easy, effortless.”
“Why?”
I frowned in thought. “I don’t know. It’s almost unconscious—my magic just does what I want with very little direction. It’s
the only time I really feel like a mage.”
Garrick met my eyes. “You are a mage. Sensing magic takes power and skill, both of which you have. The seal has blocked part of your connection to your
magic, making it more difficult to control.”
“Tell me about it,” I groused.
Garrick continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “Magic is like breathing: you can control it, if necessary, but most of the time, it’s automatic and effortless. Close your eyes. Find Grim again. Feel how your magic responds. Use that same control to steal the pastry.”
If it were that easy, then I’d already be an expert, but I obediently closed my eyes and started searching for Grim. He wasn’t
in the same place, but my magic was still coating the courtyard. I knew what to look for this time, so finding him was easier—even
though he was in motion on his way back to us.
I tracked his path and focused on exactly how it felt to use my magic this way, but it almost felt like I wasn’t doing anything. I wanted to know where Grim was, and my magic provided the answer.
Could I steal the pastry the same way?
I drew my power closer, letting it drift through our little clearing. I knew what the area looked like with my eyes, but feeling
it with magic was a different experience. With focus, I could sense the moving water in the fountain and the soft breeze brushing
my face.
And I could sense Garrick, glowing with tightly contained moonlit magic. He must be suppressing his power, but even so, if
I concentrated on him too long, he overwhelmed my senses.
I returned my attention to the fountain, tracing its contours with magic. It was not difficult exactly, but strange, like flexing an unused muscle. Without my vision to guide me, it took several minutes to find the plate with the pastry.
Big, blocky outlines were easy enough to detect, but filling in the small details took time and attention.
Now for the difficult part.
Magic was supposed to be an extension of my will, but my connection was shaky. Just wanting the pastry hadn’t worked, but maybe something else would.
I focused on the magic surrounding the plate. My heartbeat was heavy and fast, and the space under my sternum was starting
to burn and ache. I was using too much power for such a simple task, but I had to start somewhere.
I wrapped more magic around the pastry, then gently tugged, imagining it landing in my outstretched palm.
For several long moments, nothing happened, then pressure built in my chest and magic thrummed softly.
The pastry disappeared from my mental map of the fountain, and something sticky glanced off my hand on its way to the ground.
My eyes popped open just in time to see the pastry tumble into the grass by my knee. The plate remained on the edge of the
fountain, empty.
I’d done it!
Elation warred with disbelief, but the proof was in front of my eyes—and on the ground. So I’d kind of done it, but it was so much closer than I’d ever been.
“Good,” Garrick murmured. His voice was husky with approval and it arrowed straight to my center. I had to stop imagining him whispering that to me in bed.
Or maybe not. Daydreams didn’t hurt anyone.
Before I let my magic go, I tipped my head toward the sticky bun. “Can you put it back on the plate?”
There was a tiny pulse of power, then the pastry reappeared on the plate. None of Garrick’s magic had escaped his control,
and none had coated the pastry or the surrounding area.
So I’d done it, but in the most inefficient way possible.
I stared at the sticky bun and tried pulling it to me without actively using so much magic. Nothing happened. I sighed. Sadly,
one success hadn’t transformed me into a talented mage.
But at least I knew I could do it now, even if it was highly inefficient.
I wrapped my magic around the pastry and pulled it to me. It was a tiny bit faster this time, and it landed on my hand rather
than the ground.
Progress!
My fingers were icy and my chest felt like it was trapped in a vise, but my magic had done something I’d asked of it. I beamed
at Garrick. “Let’s try the door.”
Moonlit power swept over me, and he frowned. “You should rest.”
“Or—hear me out—I don’t do that, and instead, I try the door.” I stood before he could argue and offered him a hand.
He looked at me for a moment before he slowly slid his palm against mine. His hands were delightfully warm, and I shivered
at the innocent contact. His mouth quirked up into a knowing smile.
He stood with barely any help from me, but rather than letting go of my hand, he wrapped his fingers around my palm and drew
me close with a frown. “Your hand is freezing. Does your chest hurt?”
He must’ve seen the answer in my face because he cursed under his breath. “You’ve used too much magic.”
“I’m okay.” The pain in my chest was already fading and my hand was rapidly warming thanks to Garrick’s hold. My pulse, however,
refused to settle with him so near.
“This exercise should not have been that taxing.”