Chapter 11
Memories flashed before my eyes so quickly that my head ached.
Mama spinning me around the kitchen, her laughter echoing through our cottage.
Jem breaking Yakob Faustin’s nose for pushing me down outside the schoolhouse.
Niamh hastily mending a tear in my skirts after they got caught on a loose nail, her needle weaving wildly along the hem in a frantic effort to keep Mrs. Cathers from docking my pay.
No.
Panic seized me as another scene came into focus. Smoke stung my nostrils. Mud seeped through the flimsy fabric of my skirts. The muscles in my body tensed as I tried desperately to drive out his influence. My surroundings shuddered and swirled.
Fear merely tightens the bonds, Enhart’s voice echoed in my mind.
A sob echoed as I wrapped my hands around the back of an old woman’s head, my fingers coming away tacky with her blood.
No, I thought again. Not here.
The walls shuddered and collapsed around me, giving way to darkness. I opened my eyes and found myself back in the courtyard. My chest heaved like the wind had been knocked out of me.
My head snapped up as a groan sounded. The prince lay sprawled out across the flagstones some distance away. “Shit,” I exclaimed.
Enhart climbed steadily to his feet, brushing dirt off of his freshly laundered clothes. “That wasn’t exactly subtle,” he said.
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered, bracing myself for reproach.
“Certainly not suitable for court,” he continued. “You don’t want to send someone flying across the room in the middle of a council session.”
I nodded, unsure of what to do. I clasped my hands together. “I know.”
“And if I were my brother, you’d find yourself in an iron cell in no time.”
His words stoppered the apology in my throat. “I hardly think that Mordric would have me thrown in the dungeons,” I said, indignant.
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Although I’d be more worried about Ansell if I were you. He’s quite protective of the King.”
I cleared my throat.
“In any case, a heavy-handed approach, while imprudent, is still effective. It’ll be useful in our future sessions.”
“Our future sessions?” I echoed.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten that there are two more tenets to tackle once you’ve mastered psychal.”
I shifted uncomfortably.
“You’re concerned that they will be even more difficult than psychal, given how much time it’s taken,” said the prince.
My gaze flicked to his. “Are you—”
“Yes,” he said. “I can hear the thoughts you dare not speak aloud, but only because you dropped the wards we’ve been so carefully constructing after you tossed me out of your mind.”
I cursed under my breath. “Fine then,” I said, my wards sliding firmly into place. “It’s been weeks of this, and at this point, I don’t see how I’ll have mastered the three tenets before the solstice.”
“I have a theory,” said Enhart.
“Of course you do,” I replied, choking back the venom on my tongue.
“I don’t believe that elemental and corporeal magic will be as difficult for you. I think that psychal is your biggest challenge because you have something to hide. Perhaps several somethings.”
I avoided his gaze.
“What do I always say?” he asked.
“Fear tightens the bonds,” I repeated the words he recited nearly every time I failed.
“Precisely. The more you fight it, the worse you’ll be, and the longer this will take before we can move on. Psychal magic is tricky that way. Sometimes,” he said, “you have to run headfirst toward the things that frighten you most.”
I sighed, tilting my face toward the black sky. A shadow swooped clumsily across my field of vision, its raspy squawk awfully reminiscent of the wyvern hatchlings. I tracked it as it dove into the trees. “I’m not very good at that,” I muttered.
“Then this is your opportunity to embrace change,” he said. “The library has some excellent literature on the practice of reminiscence, or if you like I could—”
“No thanks,” I said, holding up a hand. “I’ll look into it.”
The corners of his lips turned upwards. “Good. Now, I think I’ve had quite enough for the evening. Unless you’d like to throw me around the courtyard a bit more?”
I bit my lip to keep from grinning. “Is that humor I’m hearing?” I said. “I didn’t know that you had it in you.”
He cocked his head. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Miss Erramun.”
I suspected that that was an understatement.
I braced myself as I arrived at the courtyard the following evening, uncertain if Enhart still found yesterday’s events to be amusing. The prince leaned back in his chair, looking decidedly bored. I dropped into the seat opposite him.
“Your wards are strong today,” he observed. “Surprisingly strong.”
I avoided his gaze, recognizing the prickling sensation of his will prodding against my mind. Today, he found no weakness. Unable to sleep without seeing Gran’s face, I had practiced my wards until the early hours of the morning. The shadows beneath my eyes were enough to prove it.
“Well, I suppose I’m satisfied,” he said. “So why don’t we try something new today.”
My ears perked up. “Something new?”
“Unless you’d rather continue our earlier lessons?”
I shook my head wildly.
“It doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook,” he warned as if reading my mind. “You must practice your wards every evening when we’re not in training. I reserve the right to test you, too.”
My pulse quickened. It didn’t matter to me, as long as we finally moved on to something more exciting. “Okay, okay.”
“We’re still in the psychal stage,” he announced, cracking open a large tome and sliding it across the table toward me. Disappointed that we weren’t moving on to corporeal or elemental, I peered over its edge.
“This is the opposite of what we’ve been learning,” I observed. The passage was about using psychal magic on others. I had never done that before.
“How astute,” said Enhart sardonically. “Practicing psychal magic on others will be an equally useful tool at court. Perhaps more so than warding yourself against attacks.”
“Wait,” I said, fighting back a grin. “Does this mean that you’ll be my test subject now?”
“It does.”
“Excellent, I’ve been looking forward to this.”
“I didn’t take you for the vengeful sort.”
“You might be surprised.”
Enhart perched on the edge of the table before me. “It’s easier if we’re in contact, to start,” he said, offering me his arm.
I hesitated. “Relax,” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “I don’t bite.”
I wasn’t so sure.
I took his arm reluctantly, the soft fabric on his sleeve bunching between my fingers.
“Now, to cast magic is to cast a bit of yourself into the world.”
“I’ve read that somewhere before.”
“Good. It makes a useful visual for this kind of exercise. I want you to imagine that your will is a nautilus, reaching out across the empty space.”
“A what?”
“A nautilus? It’s a sea creature. With tentacles.”
My eyes widened. This beast sounded fearsome. “I’ve never seen the sea,” I admitted.
He cocked an eyebrow “Fine. Imagine your will is the weeping willow by the lake, with long, flexible branches that move independently of each other. The branches are what seep into the consciousness of your target.”
I glanced up at him to find he’d closed his eyes, his long lashes spilling over his cheekbones.
He didn’t look that much like Mordric, I observed, apart from the color of his hair.
I thought back to the portrait hanging in the great hall, of King Norrix, tall and broad like his firstborn, next to Mordric and Enhart’s auburn-haired mother.
She was slender, with piercing green eyes and a kind smile.
Enhart cleared his throat. “I know it’s easy to be distracted by my handsome face, but it’s not actually the assignment.”
I flushed. “That’s not what— I was trying!” I lied.
“Then you’re worse at this than I thought you’d be,” he said, peeking at me through one eye. “You remember that you’ve actually done this before, right? Not that long ago?”
“But that was an accident,” I protested.
He shrugged as he closed both eyes again. “Still counts. Now focus.”
I exhaled slowly, allowing the gnarled tendrils of my will to unfurl. They poked and prodded at his consciousness, as sensitive as if they were covered in nerve endings. “You have walls up,” I observed, encountering an icy barrier.
He lifted a shoulder. “My wards are exceptional, and I have no intention of making this easy for you.”
My brow creased as I pushed further, searching for weakness. Beads of sweat sprouted on my brow despite the chill in the evening air. My will grazed his wards again and again, but no thoughts appeared in my mind. No memories. My nails dug into his shirt.
“That’s enough,” he announced finally, his eyes fluttering open.
I sat back in my chair, my breathing shallow. “I’m a particularly difficult target,” he said. “You’ll have better luck with humans or unpracticed vampires.”
“Are you suggesting I practice on unwitting strangers?” I asked.
“If that’s what it takes.”
I shifted in my seat. For weeks, Enhart had sifted through my memories in an attempt to train me, dredging up some of the worst moments of my life. I didn’t relish the idea of doing the same to someone else. “It doesn’t feel right,” I said.
He raised a brow. “Do you think the rest of the king’s council are concerned with doing what feels right?”
“Well perhaps I don’t want to be like the rest of the council.”
“How else do you expect to survive them? With that attitude, you’ll be fleeing to the Outlands after your first meeting.”
“I am not so easily frightened,” I snapped.
His gaze darkened. I resisted the urge to pull away as he leaned toward me, his fangs visible as his lips curled into a sneer. “Are you sure?”
My attention flicked to where my fingers were still curled around his sleeve. I released him like I’d been burned, coming to my feet. He watched me with a grave expression on his face.
“The summer solstice will be here before long,” he said in a low voice. “Are you prepared to do whatever it takes, or not?”
I didn’t say another word, stalking back to the castle alone.