Chapter 11 #4
Stefan doesn’t so much as blink, delighting in effortlessly ignoring Kyor.
‘Breath is everything,’ Stefan begins. ‘Without it, there is no life. We teach our children the three breaths method, and it is that which you need to master beyond anything else. First, we begin with a deep inhale for the count of three, then we hold it for a count of three, then we exhale it slowly for a count of three. Finally, we pause with our lungs empty for a count of three before beginning the next cycle of breath. Now watch. Feel.’
He presses my hand to his abdomen and takes a deep inhale. I feel his muscles ripple and move as he does so, then contract and freeze as he holds the breath, then sink as he breathes out.
He demonstrates the breath three more times, and when he is certain I understand the principles, it’s my turn.
I feel a shade foolish, standing in the ice and merely breathing over and over, but as I practise, I see approval glimmer in Stefan’s eyes.
‘Good,’ he says finally. ‘You must practise this daily: morning, noon, and night. Every moment you get. Control of your breath is paramount, as through that, you may control the magic within. Like this.’ With a flick of his wrist, a shield of ice appears on his arm.
‘Our magic isn’t just offensive,’ he explains.
‘It is not just spears and swords and blizzards. It can be defensive as well, but it is essential to first master the basics so you can protect yourself with a shield or, as you learn better control, even a wall.’ He uses both hands and focuses.
It clearly takes effort on his part, but an ice wall rears up between Kyor and us.
It’s similar to the one I accidentally made in the Retterheld, glassy and solid, but his is intricate too, patterned like crystal brickwork but clear enough that I can still see Kyor’s furious expression through it.
‘And if I have a strong enough control, I can remove it too.’
A moment later, the wall dissolves into a thousand soft snowflakes that flutter harmlessly to the ground.
Kyor strides through them, face blazing. ‘Don’t you ever do anything to separate us again!’
‘I am trying to teach her,’ Stefan replies calmly.
‘No, you’re not. I know men like you. Men who crave power. And I know what happens when it’s taken from them. I do not trust you.’
‘I don’t need you to trust me,’ Stefan says, not so much as flinching at the prince’s reaction.
‘I need the princess to learn something. And right now, no matter how dramatically she can bring a jotunn to the ground, she is pathetically weak. Powerless as a babe. And rightly or wrongly, there are those who will want to follow her. She owes it to them to at least try to overcome her deficiencies.’
‘Wow.’ My breath leaves my lungs in something between a gasp and a sigh.
The tone might have been impassive, but the words weren’t. I guess I’m beginning to see which side of the fifty-fifty he’s on.
Pathetically weak. Powerless. Oof. That’s something I never expected to be called after receiving the gifting.
‘I don’t mean to be harsh, Princess.’ Stefan’s attention returns to me.
‘But Isthyr needs strength, and from what I saw last night, you certainly have the will to produce more than what you are doing. Now, do the three breaths and then picture snowflakes in your mind. That is all I want from you. Snowflakes and control of your breath.’
Damned if I’m going to let the phrase ‘pathetically weak’ ever be said about me again.
‘Fine. Snowflakes,’ I tell him before closing my eyes and taking a deep breath in.
I manage exactly three flakes. Three. And that takes almost an hour.
Yes, that is three more than I have ever produced on command before, but it still feels embarrassingly subpar. The children I watched earlier could do more than that without even trying.
And it’s not as though I controlled those three flakes either.
One shot straight into the air, another hovered awkwardly a few feet above the ground, and the third flew directly into my open mouth and nearly choked me. Death by fucking snowflake. Mortifying.
Stefan moves on to trying to get me to float a snowflake to specific places in order to teach me precision. It feels like there will never be a useful time to float a snowflake over to a specific stone, but what do I know?
As another snowflake simply falls to the ground, Stefan’s jaw is audibly grinding. ‘Go again,’ he tells me. ‘You are getting there. You have the power. Now use it.’
‘She’s done a lot already,’ Kyor responds before I even start. ‘She needs a rest. Magical exertion is dangerous.’
‘I’m well aware of the risks, but her magical well is vast, and she is not in danger. She’s close to making a breakthrough with her control. You can see it. Breathwork, Princess. Again.’
Kyor doesn’t argue further. His training methods are much like Stefan’s: push and push, and when you think you’re done, push further.
But he’s right. I am exhausted. Still, I listen to my instructions, draw in a slow, deep breath, and focus on the rhythm of air within my lungs.
In. Hold. Out. Hold. In. Hold. Out. Hold.
Control the energy. That’s what Stefan said.
It might only be small, but I can feel it now – the steady rhythm of the breath grounds me as the energy rises, the power, the control, gathering at my fingertips, ready to spill over.
As I draw in another three-count breath, a smile teeters on my lips …
only for a familiar sensation to creep over me.
Too familiar.
Before I can even gasp a warning to Kyor, the world slips away from me.