Chapter 4
Becka crept into the training circle on silent feet as if the speed of her motion would change the predictable outcome. Judging by the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she didn’t have high hopes about this trial of her powers. With the shakiness in each step and the exhaustion pervading her every thought, she’d be lucky to have a decent showing.
But she knew Astrid wouldn’t let her go rest until she’d answered the question: were her powers still fully intact?
What will happen to me if they aren’t? Will I get sent back to the townhouse in the city?
Astrid stood off to the side, flanked by a pair of illusionist trainees who had constructed an elaborate rainbowed layering of magic: Nuisi, a stout but tall young lord, and Grein, a willowy and unusually-tall young lady, both clad in the silvered robes of apprentices.
Spheres of greens and blues rotated and spun past reds and yellows, each on its own separate trajectory.
The training grounds were in a tall, expansive square structure located a short walk from the manor house. Iron webbing lined the interior of the walls, windows, and roof, preventing all magic from either escaping or entering the building. This provided a safe training space where students of all ages and levels could experiment safe from any magic run wild. Large, black rings painted on the plain flooring demarcated separate training spaces, and today there were students and guilded illusionists in each space, filling the room.
Because I want an audience to witness my potential failure? Argh! No pressure!
Becka wasn’t certain of the exact number of Rowan residing in the territory, but there were rankings on the wall for the current roster of students, showing recent trial scores for all those who were not yet guilded. The list had 175 names under the heading: Illusionists. Becka’s name was on the list, but in a separate column: Nulls.
Again, no pressure, Becka! Not like everyone could see her standing. Except they can.
“Remember,” Astrid spoke, her voice a mere whisper, “you are aiming to deconstruct each layer individually.”
The illusionists’ construction training dovetailed with Becka’s Null deconstruction drills. The students would spend all day, or the day before, weaving powerful and elaborate, layered illusions.
Becka had destroyed each in less than three seconds. Could she still?
“Got it,” Becka replied. “Let’s get on with it.”
A snicker came from the far side of the room. She glanced over and recognized Alvilda and Yaeli, a near-inseparable pair of guilded illusionists. Despite their formal training being years behind them, she’d often noticed them practicing regularly together. The pair always wore coordinating dresses, and today their colors were in hues of lavender and deep purple.
Astrid shook her head at Becka’s impatience. “Remember, gaining control of your gift is your only path forward. Power unmarried to will lies the way to madness.”
Destroying magic had come easier than breathing to Becka. Breaking just the things she wanted to, however, continued to challenge her. Now, Astrid’s warning caused her to redouble her focus. Becka didn’t want to be one of the unfortunate fae-touched who couldn’t control their power and were destined for a life removed from fae society. She didn’t want to be doomed to live out her days in a hermitage so others would remain safe from her. Nor did she want to live with a weak power, yet still fae and guilded and therefore forced to stay within the territories.
All or nothing would be preferable.
“Today, we need to see if your gifts are in any way diminished. Come along now, continue,” Astrid urged.
Becka growled under her breath, stepping near the spinning orb, and then raised her left hand within millimeters of the outermost ring. She had to work extra hard to steady her arm, which already shook visibly with exhaustion and fatigue. Becka’s head ached in response to her proximity to the magic. Her reaction to the magic was less than when she first returned to House Rowan, but nonetheless, she’d been hitting the hot sauce hard.
Since she’d been working with Astrid, Becka had come to a place where she could sense a mild physical resistance of magic to her touch, at least when she was looking for magic. At this moment, Becka energetically sensed the crimson orb as it undulated mere millimeters away from her hand. A spontaneous smile cracked across her face; the sign of progress was small yet tangible.
“I’m still able to sense the magic without unraveling it.”
Astrid nodded, a tense smile upon her face. “That’s reassuring. Now, without moving, imagine moving closer to the crimson orb.”
Becka took a deep breath, and then let it out in a long, slow stream. She imagined moving close enough to touch the magical red layer.
The red orb shivered as if hit by a hammer and then shattered apart, dusting into the surrounding air.
Relief flooded through her. Her magic was as potent as ever and her control hadn’t slipped, despite the poisoning and her present state of exhaustion. “Uh huh, that’s what I’m talking about,” Becka muttered, drawing her hand back and rubbing her hands together.
Becka glanced over at Astrid and the others. At this point, everyone’s attention was on her. Others had gathered to watch, their expectant gazes urging her on as they whispered amongst themselves. Becka knew many in her house weren’t fond of her and she’d overheard their questions as to the relevancy of her Null gift.
Were they taking bets, wondering if the poisoning had broken her? Or were they simply curious bystanders, unable to look away from the show playing out before them? Either way, Becka didn’t appreciate the distraction.
Frowning, Becka brought her attention back to the sphere, focusing on the now revealed green layer. It rotated slowly, appearing to shiver with increasing waves. Curious about what had changed, Becka tilted her head and noticed small particulates of red dust falling against the green sphere.
Moments later, the green sphere shattered. Becka took a step back, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach an all-too-familiar sensation this past month. Why couldn’t she master this step?
“Well,” Astrid said, talking over the noise of the orange and lavender layers shattering apart. “It’s not progress, but your ability to manage your power hasn’t suffered, nor has the scope of your gift. Maura will be reassured.”
Becka watched as the innermost silver layer turned into dust. She should be happy for not having lost skill due to the poisoning, versus wishing for improvement each time. She’d been Astrid’s student long enough to read a lack of forward progress as failure.
Astrid’s illusionist students’ shoulders slumped, their expressions looking like they’d eaten overly sour food. Surely after spending all day creating this spectacle, having it destroyed in mere seconds didn’t help their moods.
“The inner layers seemed to take longer to dissolve this time,” Becka said.
Astrid raised a brow at her. “Perhaps.”
Across the room, Yaeli and Alvilda shook their heads, animatedly whispering to each other. Then Yaeli grabbed Alvilda’s hand and pulled her training partner along, heading out the door. Others followed them, the crowd moving on. The show was over for today.
Becka frowned. It wasn’t like either Yaeli or Alvilda displayed rare or potent talents. Illusions came in many forms, not all of them large spinning orbs filled with colors. She’d seen Yaeli’s doppelganger skill a few dozen times now, and although it was amusing, it appeared to be the breadth of her illusionary art. In contrast, she’d learned Alvilda’s gift wasn’t even creating illusions directly, but in spinning tales that mentally transported those around her into another world or changing subtle elements within her surroundings.
“You are definitely gaining a measure of control, if only millimeter by millimeter.” Astrid walked over to her, her gaze tracking the motion of dust in the air. “Perhaps tomorrow you can do sheets of layers and bring in a fan, so the Nullified dust doesn’t have the opportunity to behave so contagiously.”
“W
hat do you mean by contagious?”
Astrid, the consummate trainer, drew herself up and folded her hands in front of her. Becka had come to infer this gesture as recognition of a worthy question. “Your magic permeates the matter it contacts. Even when the magic destroys an object, the particulates from that changed matter continue to exist and they persist in the Nulling momentum for a short period of time.”
“But I don’t understand why there’s even dust? If I’m Nullifying the magic, why isn’t it just gone?”
Nuisi cleared his throat before speaking. “Although these are illusions, there is a basic elemental framework weaving the matrices of ley lines together. Thus, dust, air, water vapor, even heat all form a basic net, if you will, upon which the magic lies.”
“Wow, that’s… amazing. Wait, are you even supposed to be telling me about illusionist mechanics?”
The boy blushed so deeply the flush reached all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. “Uh,” he stammered. “I apologize, Lady Astrid, for my lack of decorum.”
Astrid rolled her eyes and waved him off. “They are not used to me training anyone outside of the guild. You are a magical outlier and Rowan’s heir. I am not worried about you picking up an odd fact or two.”
Becka suppressed the smirk that threatened to spread across her face. Such a breach of protocol would have been unheard of before she returned to House Rowan, and Becka counted each shift away from rote custom a win. Bit by bit, the unusual circumstances of her return were shaking up the old order and protocols. They might not be able to forget her once-outcast status, but one by one the fae were accepting her for her differences even if they’d prefer she be like them.
Having her family accept her for herself was the first step. She was slowly gaining Astrid and Vott’s respect. Could she win over more of House Rowan? And how long would that take?
The re-heired Becka had two goals.
One, to regain whatever freedom both fae and human cultures would allow her. She needed to get back to her education. Her research. Dr. Traut had promised to hold her a position with his department at the Institute for a time. Although she suspected he wouldn’t be able to hold it forever, Becka wasn’t yet ready to give up on that option.
And two, she planned to find a way to bridge the gulf between human and fae. She’d yearned for this dream when she was an outcast and that focus had stayed with her. The shifters had found a way to live in relative peace alongside other races. Surely there was a path forward between the fae and humans besides this ongoing cold war?
To accomplish these goals, Becka needed to find a way to make it easier for other fae to follow in her unconventional footsteps. Then she wouldn’t be the only one crossing the boundaries and bridging the gap between fae and human cultures.
“Do you think my magic is more contagious than other forms of magic?” Becka asked Astrid, glossing over Astrid’s admission while simultaneously pushing for deeper information. She’d learned long ago to not react to false admissions and instead just accept them as the new norm.
Astrid’s frown shifted, her brows raised and expression curious as she studied the dusty remnants of the illusionists’ magic. “My observation says the intensity of your power does make the effect persist longer than usual, but I must confer with the testers. When’s the next time you meet with them?”
“I’m afraid I lost track of time, what with being unconscious,” Becka said, feeling unsteady on her feet. “They are bringing a cursed man into one of the meditation houses to test my powers. Hopefully I’ll be able to remove his curse.”
Astrid’s face lit up. “Oh yes, the Elder Langdon. I heard they had to take precautions to transport him here.” Astrid took another look at her, as if seeing her fresh again. “You should go and rest. I’ll let Maura know your powers appear intact.” Astrid’s attention turned to Nuisi and Grein, no doubt to give them directions for the next day’s training preparations.
Luce appeared at the door, sniffing the air and casting her gaze about in a wide net. Alighting on Becka, she nodded. “Are you done, Lady Becka?”
“Just a moment, Luce,” Becka replied. She slid on the sea silk gloves Vott had gifted her. “Same time tomorrow?” she asked Astrid.
“Indeed. We’ll try layered plates instead of orbs and see how that goes.”
Becka walked out of the building, feeling steadier on her feet than she had a right to. Saige was there too, concern creasing her brow.
“If you need,” Luce glanced at Becka, “I can carry you.”
“Heck no,” she replied. “Or at least, not until we’re out of sight. I don’t want to give the rumor mill more to gossip about.”
Somehow Becka made it back to her quarters under her own power while the anxious pair of shifters watched her every step. Stepping inside her room, her plan was to get into the shower as quickly as possible, which was why she was surprised to find Quinn’s familiar form standing before her.
“Lady Becka, I was hoping to have a few minutes of your time?”
Although it had been three months since she’d last seen him, she would have recognized Quinn’s rich baritone anywhere, despite the distance and formality in his tone. Heart leaping into her throat, she drank in his presence.
Becka looked him over, his simple but elegantly tailored shirt paired with the cargo pants he so loved, but now in black. He wore that sexy tactical jacket again, which was also in black. His short, stocky frame and cropped burnished-gold hair were the same as she’d remembered. Hands on his hips, his confidence and swagger were unshakable. Becka couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face, and she held in a breath as heat flared across her cheeks.
She wondered at the shift to black from the prior earth tones he’d favored. Had the enforcer’s uniform shifted, or was this a personal style choice?
He stood just inside her room, a notebook between his hands and his gaze trained on her. Fatigue strained his features and the look of concern on his face conveyed the depths of the situation at hand.
“Do I look that bad?” she asked, her voice croaking. She needed some water.
“I mean, you have looked better.” He smiled, but it was strained. Polite.
Distant.
Becka sighed, frustrated at the situation, which she knew as all her own doing. Despite her best efforts, she was still engaged to Alain. She also knew it might not be in her power to stop the impending nuptials; so far, all she’d been able to do was delay the inevitable.
Awkward didn’t even begin to describe the energy between them.
Chapter 5
“Luce, Saige,” Quinn said, “will you trust me alone with Becka for a short while?”
The shifters looked to Becka as one, and she nodded.
“Okay, but don’t wear her out with talking,” Luce replied. “She needs rest.”
“We’ll be just outside if you need us,” Saige said, pulling the door most of the way closed behind them.
“Want to sit down?” he asked.
Becka nodded and then plodded her way over to the divan.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked.
“A glass of water would be nice,” Becka replied, settling herself down on the divan. Quinn ducked into her bathroom and returned, glass in hand. She kicked off her shoes and pulled off her gloves, laying them on the table next to her.
When he leaned over her and placed the glass on the same table, she caught his musky scent and was transported back to the night he’d crashed next to her and she’d been lulled to sleep by his steady, deep breathing.
Becka hadn’t seen Quinn since the weekend of Tesse’s funeral, when he’d left for Sirona Healing Springs to heal from his injuries during Woden’s attack. She shivered, extra aware of the weakness in her knees remembering how he’d been knocked out by the Shadow-Dweller’s concussive fireballs and pierced from the shrapnel of exploding trees. His stout House Oak constitution had no doubt contributed to his survival, but from what she’d heard from Chief Elowen, he�
�d been off work and healing for several weeks.
They’d been fortunate no one had died during the altercation. Would they be so lucky the next time a Shadow-Dweller attacked?
She and Quinn had spent her first week back at House Rowan constantly together. His abrupt absence after that long, tense week ending with Woden’s bloody attack had left her off-kilter. Associating Quinn’s presence with her return home had complicated Becka’s ability to adjust after he’d left.
They’d sent messages back and forth via phone, but being face-to-face with him again sent an electric thrill down her spine to the tips of her toes. It was even better to see him in person than she’d imagined. Despite the weeks apart, the comfort of his presence calmed her. Or perhaps she’d craved seeing him more because of the time apart.
Beyond the initial thrill of his return an unsure tension hung in the air between them. The reminder dulled her excitement over his return. Sure, he was here, but things weren’t the same, and might not ever be.
Becka took the glass and sipped. Immediately the soreness in her throat lessened and she felt a tad more focused. “Oh my goodness, I didn’t realize I was that thirsty.” She looked around the room but didn’t see a bottle of what she really wanted.
There was a glint in his amber eyes as he reached into his jacket and pulled out three bottles of her favorite hot sauce. “When I got my orders to come out here, I stopped and picked these up on the way.”
Becka sighed in anticipation, holding her hand out for a bottle. She’d missed his smile. “Please, Quinn, you have no idea how much my head hurts.”
He opened the bottle and handed it over. “I’d never even dream of depriving you.”
His ready smile faltered when she reached out. Becka snagged the bottle with her free hand and leaned back, alternating swigs between the hot sauce and the water. Quinn set the other bottles on her sofa table, grabbed a chair and pulled it near the divan, and took a seat.
Poisoned Shadow: An Urban Fantasy Supernatural Detective Mystery (The Shadow Series Book 2) Page 4
