by Agatha Bird
To H for the cheerleading and S for the cheerpunching.
Recipe for Magic
THE ORACLE closed all four of its eyes. It didn’t have a mouth, but it didn’t need one.
You have much power, it said in Connor’s mind. And for one so young, you envision an ambitious future for yourself. You have great plans.
Connor knew he was supposed to keep his mind blank and open for the Pairing, but he couldn’t help the smug turn of his thoughts. Of course he had great plans—his father was Ivander Roth, greatest fire mage in the eleven kingdoms and a First Mage of the King’s Council, the second youngest to ever be granted the honor.
Connor planned to follow in his father’s footsteps: He’d get himself Paired with Elisa, just as his father had been Paired with his mother, and together he and Elisa would best his parents’ display at the Senior Trial. Then he’d earn a seat on the King’s Council by the time he turned thirty and beat his father’s record.
Great plans, indeed, the Oracle said, sounding amused. A pity that minds inclined toward greatness seldom comprehend simple truths.
“Excuse me?” Connor said. He heard a scandalized gasp from one of the teachers. Technically, it wasn’t forbidden to speak aloud to the Oracle. Technically.
Your journey will be most interesting. Greatness, yes. I see greatness. But shall you inherit greatness, Connor Roth, son of Ivander Roth of the House of Redding—or shall we make you great on your own?
“We could find out if you Paired me, already,” Connor said, trying to hold on to his temper.
Very well. For Senior Trial, you are Paired with… Landyn Glendower. May your magic burn bright.
The Oracle opened its multicolored eyes: red, blue, green, and white, one for each element. The red eye and blue eye blazed with light, and Connor felt a brief, stinging pain on his right hand.
The Pairing Sigil. He and Landyn Glendower were bonded. Stuck together until the Senior Trial on the Spring Equinox. This was going to be the worst three months of his life.
“Well?” Headmaster Relvin prompted. “Who are you Paired with, my boy?”
His stomach dropping, Connor turned his head to the assembled crowd. Elisa beamed up at him from the bottom of the staircase, looking beautiful in white robes with hand-sewn diamond accents. She’d told him she wanted to be at her best today when so many eyes would be upon her. Their friend Dugan stood next to her in plain white robes, a scowl on his beefy face as he waited for Connor’s announcement.
Connor swallowed and caught the eye of a tall, thin boy in the back of the crowd, wearing a pinched expression. Landyn. He’d probably felt the sigil burning into his palm at the exact same moment Connor had.
Connor couldn’t seem to find the words as all his brilliant plans came crashing down around him. How was he supposed to succeed with Landyn for a partner? How was he supposed to merge his magic with a water mage?
“Speak up, lad, don’t be shy,” Headmaster Relvin prodded. The crowd began murmuring, and the pretty smile slipped from Elisa’s face. Dugan looked interested; he could probably smell the blood in the water.
“Glendower,” Connor croaked through what felt like a fire-scorched throat. “I’ve been Paired with Landyn Glendower.”
The teachers erupted in surprised exclamations as a wave of shocked whispers rippled through the crowd. Two boys or two girls being Paired together wasn’t unheard of, but two mages with opposing elements had never been Paired. Ever.
The Oracle sat on the dais with its eyes closed once again, somehow managing to convey a serene expression with its smooth, scaled face, which was a feat without a mouth or eyebrows.
“What!” Elisa gasped, clutching Dugan’s arm so hard that Connor saw him wince.
“Heavens!” Headmaster Relvin said, his face gone pale and blotchy with shock.
Greatness, the Oracle murmured, its words warm and curling like smoke.
Only Connor heard it.
“WHAT DID I do?” Landyn muttered. He sat next to Connor outside Headmaster Relvin’s office. Steam fogged the window on the office door and hissed out between the cracks in the wood, while inside Landyn’s parents and Connor’s parents yelled at each other.
“Honestly, what did I do?” Landyn repeated. “I don’t cause trouble. I keep my head down. I certainly don’t strut around the school like I’m owed a mage’s title like you do.”
“Shut up,” Connor replied. He’d leaped past irritated and landed in malevolent despair. Heartburn—almost literal—kicked up the back of his throat. “I’m the strongest mage in this school. I wasn’t supposed to be Paired with someone like you. The Oracle has never Paired two students with opposing elements! Are you even any good at casting? You’re probably a third level. Stones! I’ll waste more time teaching you than working toward the Trial. This is probably your fault.”
“My fault?” Landyn said. “You talked to the Oracle! Even a first year knows better than that! You probably annoyed it into punishing you, and now I’m caught up in your mess.”
Connor glowered. “I won’t argue that this is a punishment for me. I’m going to be the first Roth ever to fail their Senior Trial.”
“Oh, let me just use my pitiful water magic to conjure a river of sorrow for you. Meanwhile, I am going to fail the Trial because the Oracle stuck me with the only student who has hot air for brains!”
“How do you feel about having no eyebrows?”
Landyn narrowed his blue eyes. “How do you feel about toilets exploding on you at every opportunity for the rest of your life?”
“Please,” Connor scoffed. “Like you have that much power. What good is water magic in a fight? Oh no, he splashed me! You don’t hear about any great water mage generals, do you?”
“No, but you do hear about fire mages frequently killing themselves in spectacularly stupid ways, which explains why you outnumber other mages. Your kind has to pad the numbers to ensure your continued existence.”
“That’s it!” Connor growled, feeling flames lick at his palms as his control fractured. “I’m not putting up with you for another minute, much less three months! It’s bad enough that I’m stuck with a water mage, but the Oracle could have at least given me a competent one!”
“Just because I don’t show off my power like a child who needs constant attention doesn’t mean I’m without skill, Roth. Some of us live our lives subtly, a concept I am sure is as foreign to you as humility.”
Before Connor could reply, the headmaster’s door swung open and released a billowing cloud of steam. Landyn’s parents stepped out first, his father’s green robes and his mother’s blue robes swirling together. Their hair smoked gently, and Connor smirked. They’d obviously had a taste of his father’s magic.
His smirk fell when his parents exited at their heels, his father in the red robes with the gold sash of a King’s Fire Mage around his waist, and his mother in diaphanous white. Their hair was plastered wetly to their heads.
Connor refused to look at Landyn, but he could feel the other boy’s smug satisfaction. Landyn’s mother must have gotten in a lucky shot.
Headmaster Relvin followed last, his face flushed and sweaty. “We’ll go to the Oracle,” he said. “We’ll set this right, Mage Roth. This is the first time in the history of Fourmage Academy that this kind of Pairing has occurred. The Oracle is very old. It must have simply made a mistake! We’ll convince it to Pair the boys with someone else.”
“Please,” said Landyn’s mother. She had a clear, cool voice that Connor tried not to find so soothing. Landyn sounded like her. Connor noted with some surprise that she wore a gold sash like his father. Landyn’s mother was a King’s Mage? “I think we all sense the futility of attempting to sway the Oracle’s decision. Remember the last time an ambit
ious mage tried to change its mind?”
Connor winced. That stain had never come out of the Pairing Chamber floor.
“Ah,” Headmaster Relvin said, wringing his hands nervously. “But—”
“The Oracle must have a reason for a Pairing so… unprecedented,” Landyn’s father said, placing a supportive hand on his wife’s arm. “We must trust its judgment.”
“Trust its judgment?” Connor’s father boomed. “My son is to be shackled to your—”
“Careful, Mage Roth,” Landyn’s mother said. The air went chilly and damp.
“—son,” Ivander Roth finished after a beat. Connor had never seen his father back down so quickly from one of his tirades. “This is unacceptable.”
“I fear we must accept it, Ivan,” Connor’s mother said, ever the voice of reason. She smiled, and a light breeze ruffled the hair on Connor’s head. “What else can we do? The boys will have to sort this out on their own.”
“Well, boys?” Headmaster Relvin said, drawing everyone’s attention back to them. “Perhaps we should let you two talk.” He glanced over his shoulder through the door that was still steaming gently. “I’d have you use my office, but I’m afraid it’s a bit… elemental at the moment.”
Landyn’s mother and Connor’s father looked chagrined.
“It’s all right. We’ll find a place to talk,” Connor said, standing and shooting Landyn a quelling look in case he decided to argue.
“Landyn?” Landyn’s mother questioned.
Landyn narrowed his eyes but only said, “It’s fine, Mother. We’ll work it out.”
Connor’s father cleared his throat. “I need to speak with my son first. Connor, with me, please.” He didn’t wait for a response but grabbed Connor’s arm firmly and drew him several steps away.
“Father—” Connor started.
“I am speaking,” his father said. “Despite your headmaster’s bumbling attempts at reassurance, I am not pleased with this outcome. I don’t know how you landed yourself in this situation, but you will not be the first Roth to fail the Trial. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Good. I will return for the Trial if my schedule permits.”
He clasped a large, warm hand on Connor’s shoulder and squeezed hard. “You will succeed. You are my son.”
Coming from someone else, the words may have sounded like reassurance. To Connor they sounded like an order.
“Thank you, Father,” Connor said. “I won’t disappoint you.”
“Well,” his father said. “You will try your hardest not to, and that must be enough.”
Connor only nodded in reply, terrified his voice would break if he tried to speak. His eyes were hot with unshed tears, and he hated his own weakness. It wasn’t his fault the Oracle had Paired him with a water mage, but he knew his father expected him to take responsibility.
He felt a dull flush creep up his neck, knowing it would be obvious against his pale skin and dark hair. His father had the same coloring, but he had too much control to let his body betray his emotions.
A cool hand gripped Connor’s elbow, and he startled to find Landyn standing next to him. “Come on, Connor,” Landyn said, tugging at his arm. Connor felt his heated flush subside.
His father observed them with a speculative glint. “You will keep me posted of your progress,” he said.
“Of course,” Connor replied. Landyn’s fingers circled gently around the crook of his arm, and the soft touch made Connor feel strangely off-balance.
“Landyn,” said Landyn’s mother. “Write to us if you need any advice. Your father will come at a moment’s notice, but I must address an issue in the Borderlands that will keep me away for some months. I will try my best to resolve it before the Trial.”
“Dear Gods, not the Ferndell Lake again?” said Connor’s father. “Is that wyvern still causing trouble?”
“Yes, poisoning the headwater and—”
“A good fire spell would take care of that wyvern problem once and for all—”
“Certainly, if violence were your first and only option, but with a little diplomacy, the wyvern—”
“Come on,” said Landyn, pulling Connor away. “They’ll be at this for ages. We need to talk.”
He walked them quickly down the hall, ducking inside an empty classroom and closing the door behind him. Connor walked two steps away, needing to put some distance between them; Landyn’s touch had been cool at first, but now Connor’s skin felt hot and tender where Landyn’s long fingers had encircled his arm.
Connor rubbed at his skin absently. “I already have a plan,” he said, glancing around the empty classroom. This time of the day would normally be his free period. Most students spent their free period practicing spells in the arena, meditating in the conservatory, or reading in the library. Connor usually spent his free period lounging with Elisa and his friends out on the green. He was already leagues ahead with his magic and didn’t need to waste his time with the same pursuits as the other students.
Today, there was no free period. The rest of the students in their year were still in the Pairing Chamber, no doubt having more luck with their own Pairings.
Connor wondered who Elisa would get for her Pairing and balled his fists at his sides as a fresh wave of frustration crashed over him.
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Landyn said. He crossed his arms and leaned against a long wooden desk, regarding Connor with a judging expression. Even stretched out with his hips tilted at an insolent angle, Landyn was almost tall enough to look Connor in the eye.
“The Archmages want to see a display of magic that shows power and control, so…,” Connor said, shifting back and forth uneasily under Landyn’s piercing stare. Landyn’s startling blue eyes caught his attention.
Connor was suddenly conscious of his own body: how his hands hung stiffly at his sides in contrast to Landyn’s calm posture; how his wild curls of dark hair fell into his eyes, unlike Landyn’s neatly trimmed straight brown hair. His shoulders were wider than Landyn’s, and he had more muscle. That had always made him feel powerful, but now he felt big and broad-knuckled, like his clothes didn’t fit well enough, even though his scarlet robes had been expertly tailored in the Capitol.
Landyn’s robes were dark blue with a narrow cut that hugged his tall, slender frame. Connor’s eyes trailed down, noting the expensive fabric and the embroidered waves in a shade slightly darker than the robe.
“So?” Landyn prompted.
Connor flushed and averted his eyes. He’d lost his train of thought. “So, all we have to do at the Trial is impress them,” he finished awkwardly.
“How revolutionary,” Landyn said, oblivious to Connor’s inner turmoil. “Are all your plans this detailed?”
“I don’t see you coming up with anything,” Connor snapped. “People like you are always looking to leaders like me to solve your problems.”
Landyn uncrossed his arms and made a big show of looking around the room. “I don’t see any leaders. Just a spoiled hothead who’s mad he didn’t get his way.”
“Listen, you soggy piece of garbage—”
A sudden jet of water nearly choked him. “Hey!” Connor sputtered, coughing and swiping his hair from his eyes. His robes were soaked.
Landyn glared at him, his eyes brighter blue than before. Thin tendrils of blue light danced around his hands. “I’m not the soggy one,” he said.
Connor felt his anger flare into magic. It started as pins and needles in his shoulders and shot down his arms until his hands were engulfed in fire, the flames twisting hungrily up his forearms.
Landyn straightened. “Is that how this is going to play out?”
“You doused me first!”
“You deserved it!”
“Enough!” Connor said. The flames wreathing his hands abruptly extinguished as he forced himself to breathe and wrestled back his control. “I’ve tried, but I can’t work with you. You’ll sabotage the Trial just to spite
me.”
“You think a little too highly of yourself, Roth. I couldn’t give a dolphin’s wet ass about you, but we have to complete the Trial together. Or did you miss that part of the, oh, six-hundred-year-old tradition?”
“To the fires with tradition! Nothing about this situation is traditional. I’ll come up with something on my own. I don’t need you.”
“You’re an arrogant ass,” Landyn said.
“Maybe,” Connor said, brushing past Landyn. “But you’re a waste of my time.”
He didn’t need Landyn Glendower. No mediocre water mage was going to dampen his fire.
Just before he reached the door, he turned back. Landyn was watching him, an odd expression on his face. “Connor—” Landyn started to say.
Connor concentrated and snapped his fingers. Landyn’s sleeves caught on fire.
“Now we’re even,” he said, pushing his wet hair off his forehead and slipping quickly out the door. He dashed down the hall, ignoring Landyn’s outraged cries, and narrowly avoided slipping in the water that gushed across the floor.
CONNOR SPENT the rest of the night in his rooms, chewing on his frustrations. He was glad more than ever that his father’s position afforded him a private suite.
He sighed and glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It was nearly eleven o’clock, and the halls had gone quiet. Normally, Elisa visited him before lights out and left him sweaty and tangled in the sheets with a perfect lipstick impression on his cheek; it made him uneasy that he hadn’t heard from her all day. He wouldn’t have minded Elisa’s particular brand of comfort right now. A man had needs.
He wondered if Landyn had a girlfriend. Not that he paid much attention to that overgrown guppy, but he’d never seen Landyn with a girl on his arm. Or a boy.
“Who cares?” Connor said aloud, scowling up at his ceiling from his bed. He and Landyn had never run in the same circles, and they’d only exchanged a handful of words before today. Connor couldn’t remember seeing Landyn practicing in the arena. He would have noticed.
Connor idly tossed a fireball up toward the rafters and caught it on its way back down. He wasn’t going to be stuck with that wet blanket for the Trial. He’d talk to Elisa tomorrow and get things sorted out with the Oracle.
