Chapter 16 #2
“Of course,” Maxence drawled. “His Majesty doesn’t want his shiny new plaything dirtying her hands with the common folk anymore.”
Maxence yelped as Niamh punched him in the shoulder. The scornful look she gave him reminded me of Adele. I clenched my teeth. Either she was on my side, or not. I didn’t need her defending me out of pity.
I kept my thoughts to myself.
Maxence batted away her hand. “Alright, I’m sorry. Seriously, though, what exactly is your plan here, Finn? The man is dead, and there’s no trace of the girls.”
I sighed, leaning against the cold stone wall. This information had gotten me nowhere. “I’m not sure exactly,” I said. “I just feel like there’s more to this story.” I glanced at Niamh. “Any idea who this shady fellow could have been?”
“Not a clue.”
I rubbed my temples. “Thanks for trying, I guess.”
“We’ll let you know if we hear anything else.
” Maxence turned to head down the stairs, leaving me with far more questions than answers.
Niamh lingered for a moment, biting her lip as if to keep words from tumbling out.
I stared at her expectantly. I didn’t want her to leave, but pride had tied my tongue in knots.
I wasn’t sure if I was angrier with her for scolding me about my magic all those weeks ago, or for being just as stubborn as me.
“I, er,” she began. “Oh, never mind.” She turned and scurried down the staircase after Maxence.
My eyes pricked as I watched her leave. I turned on one heel, stomping back toward my bedchamber.
The following evening, I traipsed up a winding path that led into the forest to the north of the palace, trailing after the prince.
If I turned my head, I would be able to see the glass aviary tucked into the manicured gardens, and beyond it the stone towers of Valnar Castle.
As spring neared, evening came later and later, and the sky was a dusty blue in the dwindling light.
I panted slightly as I scrambled up the path behind Enhart, who showed no signs of slowing his pace.
We maintained a comfortable silence, neither of us eager to speak of the incident in the courtyard yesterday evening.
“Where are we headed again?” I finally asked as the path came to an end.
“There.” He pointed to a large clearing just ahead of us.
I peeled off my overcoat, rolling up the sleeves of my chemise as sweat stung the skin of my chest. As I scanned the clearing for any sign of wyvern hatchlings or some other beast that the royal family might be breeding up here, I scraped back my hair, allowing the cool breeze to tickle the back of my neck.
The clearing, however, was empty. I imagined that in the summer it would be dotted with wildflowers—a tapestry of purple harebells and mountain pansies the color of the golden sun—but in late winter, it was barren.
“Why did we have to hike all the way here, exactly?” I asked as I twisted my tresses into a thick braid.
“The path is too steep for horses,” explained the prince. “Also, we need to be outside of the wards to do this.”
“Wards?” I parroted.
He nodded. “The castle grounds are enchanted for the King’s protection. We can perform almost any kind of magic there, except phasing.”
I had never considered that there were enchantments laid upon the grounds, but I supposed it made sense. Especially if the King’s enemies could wield magic. “Why is the castle only warded against phasing?” I asked.
“I never said that it was only warded against phasing. Not to mention a palace devoid of magic would be no fun for our conniving courtiers.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Now,” he said, turning to face me, “don’t expect to be any good at first.”
“Thanks,” I replied sardonically.
“We saved the most difficult discipline for last for a reason.”
“Most difficult? We worked on the others for months!”
He ignored me, walking a dozen paces away and drawing a line in the earth with his boot. “The key is to start small. Focus on the line.”
By the time I’d finally climbed out of the bath the previous evening, a worn tome had greeted me on my bed.
Morris and Englefort’s Treatise on Corporeal Magic.
I’d scoured the entire thing, reading until the words blurred together and the candles had puddled around their wicks.
The goal of phasing seemed simple enough: use magic to get from one place to the next.
However, it was deceptively tricky. According to the literature, improper technique had left plenty of people in the wrong place. Like the middle of the Great Sea.
“Oh, and try not to land in the lake. Again.”
I shot Enhart a dark look. Taking a steadying breath, I focused on the line before me, trying to clear my mind. A breeze tickled my nose as I squeezed my eyes shut, visualizing my mark, but when I opened them, I remained rooted to the spot.
Enhart sighed exaggeratedly. “You’re not supposed to close your eyes. You don’t want to smack into something when you land on the other end.”
I bit my lip. “Right.”
“I can tell that you’re anxious,” he continued. “I hear—”
“My heartbeat,” I interrupted. “Yeah, yeah.”
He frowned before slinking over to me, coming to a stop behind me. My breath caught in my throat as he placed his hands on my shoulders. My thoughts drifted traitorously to the events of the previous evening.
“Inhale.”
I obeyed, my chest rising and falling slowly for four meditative breaths.
“Focus on the line. And don’t close your eyes.”
I peered closely at my target. Morris had written that the only difference between phasing and walking was a witch’s will. Englefort disagreed, claiming instead that the only difference was that phasing meant you didn’t have to exercise. A smile played at the corners of my mouth.
The air rippled in front of my nose and I watched with bated breath as a gap opened in the empty space, revealing the line barely a foot ahead of me. I started forward but hesitated, my nerves overwhelming me.
A sharp nudge between my shoulder blades sent me flying into the portal.
It closed behind me as I stumbled forward, a dozen paces from where I’d previously stood.
I whirled around to glare at my tutor. “You’re welcome!
” he called after me. “Just a little bit of motivation for you to open up another portal to get me back.”
I smirked as the air in front of me swirled again, then stepped through the portal.
Without the shock of being shoved this time, I felt the transition in my bones.
It was as if I was being compressed, my chest constricting for a split second before the portal spat me back out in my original place.
By the time I arrived, however, Enhart was already in a grove of crabapple trees bordering the clearing.
I aimed for him again, swaying slightly as my feet hit the soil on the other end of the portal.
We repeated the dance many times, hopping from spot to spot around the clearing.
Every time I got close, he vanished. I stepped through yet another portal, this time stumbling as I landed, and the prince started toward me as if to catch me, but stopped short.
I staggered a few feet before stilling myself against a tree.
“Finally caught up,” he said.
“I feel like I just sprinted up the courtyard stairs,” I admitted, my chest heaving.
“Funny, because I’ve only seen you run down those stairs to get away from me.”
I surprised myself with a laugh, which only grew as his eyes widened. I shook my head. “Not funny.”
“Apparently,” he said. “Phasing is an active discipline. It’ll get easier with time.”
“That’s what you always say,” I pointed out.
“And I’m always right.”