"Get to work," she said.
Cyrus snickered as I rose from the table and walked out as calmly as possible, but inside, I was a raging storm. Not only did I have to clean the library, a task which took hours, but I wasn't to have any magic. And most infuriating of all, I wouldn't be able to see Mora today.
Doing chores without magic was always difficult. I had to walk all the way down to the water well, pump a bucket by hand, then carry it back to the Manor. Even more embarrassing, the well was in the center of the town, so the whole village would know I was being punished.
I found the bucket and brush where I'd left them the day before and trudged down to the center of town. I felt every gaze as I clomped by, grateful the cold on my cheeks could have been the cause of my flushing. Even Cyrus had never had to walk to the well. Conversations followed me as the onlookers stood around their small houses, whispering to each other. A cold wind blew through my shirt, reminding me I'd left without my cloak. But alas, without magic to summon it, I pressed on.
I put the bucket on the ground under the pump and grasped the metal lever. The frigid metal bit into my fingers but I held on, working it up and down. Magically, this would've been a simple task. Even if I'd walked all this way, I could've summoned the water to the surface.
As I worked, my arms aching from effort, I thought back to what Mora had said about the nonmagicals. This would've been normal for her—especially if all the villagers hadn't had magic.
I'd never seen New Salem as anything antiquated, but having seen the progress in the other world—the world without magic—our own technology seemed quaint. There, liquid came at the press of a button. And not just water, but that delicious soda with bubbles and sweetness. The nonmagicals had created cars to get them from place to place without magic. In a way, theirs was a world that made magic obsolete.
Footsteps broke me from my musing, and I straightened to see Mary, the young Enchanter, behind me. She wore her cloak tightly around her body, shielding her from the cold wind. And I was sure she also had a warming charm on her shirt.
"Hullo, Master Gavon," she said, bowing her head. "Would you like me to pump your water?"
"No, of course not," I said, grasping the handle. When a flash of hurt crossed her face, I softened my expression. "I mean, it's obvious the Guildmaster has a punishment in mind. It would be wrong to ask you to circumvent it."
She nodded and kicked the dirt with her scuffed boots. "Did you…have a chance to talk to Guildmaster McKinnon about our grain stores?"
I hadn't—I couldn't even remember what I'd promised. "Forgive me…"
"It's all right," she said with a forced smile as water finally came from the pump. "We'll figure something out. We always do." She turned to walk away, but stopped and turned back. Her ruddy face scrunched up as she came back toward me. "Master Gavon, I'll just say it: I would like to couple with you so I might pass on your Warrior magic."
The bucket fell out of my hand, spilling all my hard-earned water on the ground. "I'm sorry?"
Her face turned even redder. "My mother was a powerful Charmer before the rot took hold. I think I could make a Warrior if you would have me."
Was this the sort of thing Cyrus dealt with? I worked my jaw as I had no idea how to answer her.
"I…will consider it," I finally said.
She grinned, and I regretted even leaving that door cracked.
"But why not go to Cyrus?" I said as she walked away. "He'll be Guildmaster."
"Oh, don't say that," she said with an unmistakable grimace. Then she gasped and covered her face. "Forgive me, Master Gavon. I didn't mean to speak ill of your fellow Warrior."
"It's all right, I speak worse of him," I said. "I take it you aren't looking forward to the day Alexandra steps down?"
She glanced around, as if checking for Cyrus around the corner. "Most in the village hate Cyrus. He takes what he wants from us. We'd much rather you be Guildmaster."
I frowned. "I'm no match for Cyrus in the sparring ring, though. Wouldn't you rather have a leader who could protect you in battle?"
"Battle," she scoffed. "What battle? We'd much rather have someone with kindness in their hearts who cares about us. You care about us."
"Cyrus…cares about the village," I said, although we both knew it was a lie.
"Not like you do." She took a hesitant step toward me. "I've been with Cyrus before. He treats it like a competition only he can win." She batted her eyelashes. "You, I believe, would at least make it fun."
I swallowed hard, again at a loss for words.
"You know where to find me," she said, sauntering away with swinging hips.
To say I was rattled by Mary's forwardness was an understatement. I purposefully avoided walking by her house on the way back to the Manor, hoping to avoid any unintended messages that I was interested in coupling with her.
Less surprising was her opinion of Cyrus and wishing I would ascend to leadership in his place. But as far as I was concerned, his Guildmastership was set in stone—no matter what Alexandra thought. I only hoped I was far away from New Salem when that day came. That thought happily lifted me out of my sour mood as I finished pumping the water.
When I returned to the house, Alexandra and Cyrus had concluded their morning session. Cyrus was snoring in his room, and Alexandra was in the library. I didn't bother to ask if I should return later. She would delight in watching me toil, so I would let her in order to hasten the end of my punishment.
I knelt on the floor and scrubbed at the new layer of dust—presumably, she'd magicked it in to give me more work to do. For a long time—at least an hour—the only sound in the room was the brush against the wooden floor. I didn't know if the floor was getting cleaner or if I was merely pushing dirt around, but I did know Alexandra was watching.
Then, out of the blue, "I am reviewing your notes from the census."
As I scrubbed under a bookcase, I readied myself.
"These numbers are concerning," she murmured.
I paused my scrubbing and sat up. Was she going to critique my math now? "How so?"
She didn't lift her gaze from the page, the crease deepening in her forehead. "Crumbs aplenty for the Enchanters, but from what are those crumbs made? Magic." She sighed. "The Separation might not have killed us immediately, but it will kill us eventually. Every year, we grow weaker and weaker."
"I had no idea things were so bad," I said quietly after a moment.
"Didn't you?" Alexandra asked, tilting her head. "Was there no sign in your privileged position?"
"I…" I swallowed. "I knew things were difficult. But what I heard was…more than I thought. The village is dying—truly dying."
She nodded. "And I can't do anything to stop it."
I rested on my knees. I didn't disagree with her—especially after tasting the food on the other side. There was a vibrancy to it, a feeling like it was more than just dirt and magic. If I brought some of it over, and if I told Alexandra about what I'd done, it would solve all our problems.
And yet, I hesitated. I didn't want to tell her outright what I'd done, not until I'd had my fill of it. But perhaps there was a way to gauge her reaction.
"Have we ever tried…breaking the barrier between this world and the old one?"
She lifted her gaze to mine, a smirk on her face. "Breaking the barrier? You believe it to be as simple as that?"
"I don't." I averted my gaze, lest she read something in it. "But if we're dying, we might try expending some energy toward freeing ourselves from this prison."
"It has been tried by magicals much smarter and more powerful than you or me," she replied. "Our captors made a prison to last eternity."
I continued scrubbing, still wanting to broach the subject, but not quite sure how to. Without any other ideas, I decided to just get straight to the point. "What…might you do if we did break it?"
She inhaled and straightened her shoulders. "I'm not in the business of discussing imaginary situations."
/> "No, but…" I schooled my features, even though I had my back to her. "I'm curious. Would you indulge me?"
"I suppose I would gather food for the villagers," Alexandra said, after a moment's thought. "Then continue Riley's goal. To live under the sun in a world run by magicals. And to take revenge on those who put us here."
I couldn't hide my grimace and was grateful for my position on the floor. Perhaps Mora's mother was right to be cautious of us. "You would go to war just when we get salvation?"
"I told you, I'm not in the business of discussing imaginary situations." She finally stopped and turned to me. "What is more pressing is how we will save our village within the confines of our magical bounds now. The more we focus our energy on anything else, the more will die of magical rot."
I closed my mouth and nodded. "Understood."
"I know you've read all of Jones's nonmagical books," she said quietly, almost pensively. "And I don't want you to pine for a place you may never see. A man could waste away with that kind of yearning."
I straightened, finally turning to her. "You've read them, too?"
She nodded. "When I was a girl. Cover to cover, repeatedly. Jones was a good master, but there were no other Warriors in the village. You're lucky you have Cyrus to train with."
Lucky wasn't the word I'd use.
"But that's neither here nor there. We have a dying village and we must do whatever we can to keep ourselves alive."
I paused mid-scrub. "Whatever we can" gave me a small opening. I wasn't yet ready to tell her the whole truth, but perhaps I could still help.
"What if I were to find a potion?" I asked slowly. "One that could bring back the original properties of a piece of bread or meat?"
She lowered her journal. "Do you know of such a thing?"
"Not…exactly," I said. "But I have been experimenting. Perhaps I might try something when I've finished with my chores."
She didn't reply immediately, and I feared I'd said the wrong thing. But as I scrubbed, magic returned to my body. Alexandra had undone her containment spell.
"See what you can come up with," she said, before disappearing in a puff of purple smoke.
Eleven
Not wanting to test Alexandra's patience, I finished cleaning the library without magic. Mora would be waiting, and I would yet again have to apologize for not making our meeting on time. I had come up with quite a list of ways to apologize, and most of them involved staring into her eyes and perhaps kissing her lips.
I arrived in the new world, thankful for the heat and the sun. The cold, biting air of New Salem melted from my skin as I changed my clothes into shorts and a shirt.
My new task from Alexandra should've been simple, but I had no idea how to find the nonmagicals who baked breads, or anything like that. I would have to talk to Mora—something I couldn't wait to do anyway. This time, I decided to honor her wishes not to use magic around the nonmagicals. Instead, I found a private room inside the library and transported myself there.
I strolled out of the room, acting as if I didn't know what I was looking for, though I knew exactly where she sat. It was rather fun, this pretending to be nonmagical.
I leaned against the bookcase and watched her for a moment as she cursed under her breath, flipping angrily through a book. With a huff, she threw down her writing instrument and sat back. Her cheeks reddened when she saw me.
"How long have you been standing there?" she asked.
"Not long at all," I lied, coming to sit across from her. "What's troubling you?"
"Well, I'm doubly grounded now," Mora said, slumping into her chair. "On account of skipping class yesterday."
I grimaced. "That's my fault."
"No, it's not. I didn't want to go, so I skipped." She slid her hand across the table to take mine. "Besides, I had more fun with you anyway."
Electricity slid from where her skin touched mine as I closed my hand around her. Was it too early to kiss her? Probably so.
"I, too, was punished for staying out too long," I said, my gaze falling to her pink lips. "I had to scrub the library without magic."
"Is that why your hands are so pruny?" she asked, gently turning my hands over and dancing her fingertips along my palms. "You sound like Cinderella over there. All you need are some mice and a fairy godmother."
I was too preoccupied by the gentle brush of her fingers against mine to be bothered to ask her to explain further. "How are you doubly grounded?"
"Well, Mom's gone to the Clanmaster," she explained, drawing circles on my palms and glancing up every few moments to catch my mesmerized gaze. "You know how that goes."
"Mm…in theory," I said, shivering as she drew a long line down my hand. "But all I know about clans are in books, and I believe things have changed."
"Well, so my great uncle is the Clanmaster," she began, her voice low. "And he can take the power of Clan Carrigan to enforce stuff."
"Mm…"
"So she's asked him to keep a tighter leash on me," Mora said. "He knows where I am at all times—Mom can't do that by herself." She released my hand and blew air out between her lips, breaking her spell on me. "And so I gotta stay in the library or my ass is grass."
I smiled at the imagery and nodded to the open book. "What are you reading?"
"Physics," she said then stuck her tongue out. "Kill me. I didn't get it during the school year, and I'm certainly not going to get it now."
"That's not true," I said, drawing the book closer to me. Although the colors and images on the page distracted me momentarily, soon, the structure became familiar. "This is Newton's law of motion, isn't it?"
She nodded. "I have to solve all these problems. Every time I try, I get them wrong. I don't know what I'm doing wrong."
I pulled the paper over to me and read the first one.
An airplane accelerates down a runway at 4.3 m/s2 for 45.2 seconds. What is the distance traveled?
"What's an airplane and a runway?"
She chuckled, explaining the concept. While I didn't get the specifics, it did clear up what we were looking for. I walked through the problem then found her error—she'd forgotten to square the time. "See, here it is."
"Ah, son of a bitch," she said, pulling her paper back and working through it. Finally, she sat back with a grin. "God, I hate math."
"Why?" I asked. "It's just a puzzle."
"I'd rather do a jigsaw puzzle or a crossword puzzle," she said, tapping her pen. "Finding the square root of fifty? Who the hell ever needs to know how to do that?"
"Maybe not in practice, but mathematics is good for the mind," I said, reviewing the rest of her answers. "And a sharp mind makes a sharp magical."
"You are the world's biggest dork." Based on her tone, dork meant nothing good.
"As I told you, there's not much to entertain in New Salem," I said as my cheeks warmed. "So solving these puzzles was sometimes my only entertainment."
"You poor, poor baby," she said then grinned. "Say…you might be able to complete all these problems for me. My mom charmed my paper so I can't use magic to complete it. But I'll bet that it doesn't apply to you, does it?"
I laughed. "I'm sure it doesn't, but I believe that's cheating. Otherwise, how will you learn?"
"I don't need to know physics," she said. "It's not like it's going to be useful in adulthood. And unlike where you're from, there are plenty of other things to entertain us here."
"I'm sure, but I don't think it's right."
She blew air out between her lips. "Well, then, will you help me? At least check my math?"
"That, I can do."
I'd never had the pleasure of teaching anybody anything before. Perhaps it was my student, but I found it satisfying every time Mora nodded in understanding and was able to solve an equation by herself. Before either of us knew it, we'd completed every one listed in her book.
"You're a great teacher," she said. "That made more sense than anything anyone else ever said."
"This," I point
ed to her book, with the graphics and colors, "is too much information. When I learned physics, all I had was a book." I grinned and looked around for nonmagicals. Then I summoned my only copy of Newton's Principia from my library. It took a moment, but it appeared in my hand.
"Wow," Mora said, gingerly taking the book from me. "This thing is ancient. An antique!"
I smiled. "I don't know if it would help you learn anything more. But you can read it, if you want."
"I don't want to take your books, Gavon," she said, carefully turning the pages.
"Books are meant to be read," I said. Giving her this book was like giving her a piece of myself, and watching her carefully turn each page warmed my heart.
"Then how about this. Stay here for a sec." She rose and disappeared through the stack of books, returning a few minutes later with a book in her hands. She slid it across the table.
"Interview with the Vampire?" I said with a laugh. "This was the book you told me you loved."
"Well," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I know this old physics book probably isn't your favorite thing to read, but…maybe you'd like to read mine." Her face warmed as she picked at the pages.
"There's nothing I'd love more," I said, sliding my hand across her cheek. "And if you wanted to know my favorite book…" I sat back, never pondering the question before. "I'd say it's probably Julius Caesar, or my potions book."
"I think we have a few potion books floating around," Mora said. "But you're in luck. I had to read Julius Caesar in tenth grade, if you want to read my book report on it. It's not as riveting as Interview with the Vampire, but it's close."
"Anything you write is fascinating, I'm sure," I said, as her hand slid across mine once more. I couldn't help myself. I leaned across the table and captured that lower lip. She smiled and pressed her hand to my neck, drawing me in closer. Oh, this glorious sensation. It was even better now than the day before, especially when she swept her tongue across my lips. I followed in kind, pulling her closer. I could've lived in this moment forever.
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