by Marian Gray
"Suppress?" She repeated the word. Her gaze settled on me as her curiosity unfolded. "It's rare to meet a witch who doesn't agree with the Chamber on this issue."
"Well, you said it yourself. I'm more mundi than witch." I cut my thoughts short, fearing how this could be misconstrued. "At what age does a sorcerer usually develop Mad Merlin?”
Her weight shifted as she drained her glass. “The ages were across the board. It wasn’t as big of a factor as my team and I had originally believed. We spent three years on case studies and found that the frequency of practice was actually a stronger indicator of development.”
“Three years? That's a long time. Did you ever discover what exactly about using their magic makes them crazy?”
She shook her head. “That’s a difficult thing to test. My theory is that they develop this syndrome due to the way they perform their magic. There are no spells or movements of the wand for them to learn, instead it all comes innately from within. Like instinct almost. They know the note that comes next in the spell without ever hearing the song. I think this inner production of magic interferes with the central nervous system. How and why exactly? I have no idea.” She cocked her head to the side. “Why does the topic interest you so much?”
“Kim!” A familiar voice flitted into my ear.
I turned my head. “Mr. Greaves.”
He waved me over. “You’re needed over here at once, please.”
I rolled my eyes. “Excuse me, Ms. Darby. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
She nodded with a grin. “Likewise, Ms. Blackwood.” Her eyes flew to Cecil Greaves and then back to me. “Despite what you may hear from the press there are those of us in the magical community that are cheering for you.”
Her words gave me pause. I hadn’t believed the entire world hated me, but the Emporium did an excellent job of making it seem that way. “Thank you. That means a lot.” My lips spread into a polite smile one last time before I slid through to crowd to follow Greaves. He led me over to the opposite side of the ballroom. We stopped before the wall that brandished the school’s insignia and colors.
There were three others waiting for him. “Kim, you stand beside Lili, please. And let’s have you two ladies in front of Ryan and Elijah.” Cecil orchestrated with swift ease. “No, no.” He shook his head. “Lili and Kim switch spots. Kim in front of Elijah, and Lili in front of Ryan.”
“Yeah, that’s good.” Guillermo nodded with camera in hand. “It’s more pleasing to the eye to have the taller ones stacked.”
A smug smirk popped from under Greaves’ greased mustache. “Thank you, Guillermo. And now, gentlemen, if you don’t mind, I’m going to slide between the two of you.”
“I don’t think ‘slide’ is the word I would use,” the boy named Ryan whispered to the three of us. Given that he was included in the photo, I assumed he was Ryan Rosewall—the other star on the holmgang team.
The group broke out into hushed snickers.
“Have you considered my offer?” Elijah whispered. His hot breath teased my ear.
“To tryout?”
“Yes.” He slipped a hand upon my bare shoulder as he shifted to the side to provide room for Cecil. His touch was warm against my bare skin. My breath held for a moment longer than usual. As the air released from my lungs, a tight tingle crept across my stomach. I took another deep breath to cool my body, for the heat threatened to break across my cheeks.
“All right. This is for Ivory. So big smiles,” Guillermo sung in his accent before snapping a few quick pictures. “Ms. Banach, a little more joy in the face, yes?” The flash flooded our posed bodies a few more times.
I had thought about the request more times than I cared to admit. I yearned to claim that spot as my own, but I had lived through a summer of having everyone tell me I wasn’t good enough—it would crush me to hear the same words from Elijah Harlow.
“What a year for Ivory.” I heard a feminine voice comment from the side. I recognized those light motherly notes in her tone.
“I’m not going to do it,” I muttered to him.
Guillermo took a step back. “A couple more.” He raised the camera to his face. “Just want to make sure the crest is in the frame.”
“You can’t be serious.” Elijah scoffed.
My blood rushed. “I’m not good enough.”
President Banach continued as a crowd began to swarm around the small photography session, “Two world class holmgang players and the return of two founding families. It’s a hallmark year. The aristocracy and modern era all together.”
“That it is,” Greaves replied. “You should be proud.”
“If that were true—” Eli stopped to keep from being heard.
“Could we get one with President Banach, as well?” Guillermo requested.
“Absolutely.” Greaves waved over the school’s matriarch.
“If that were true,” he began again. “I wouldn’t have offered the private audition.”
My entire being stirred with ambition.
President Banach’s white gloved hand passed her champagne flute off to roaming waiter. She floated over to the five of us in her glittering periwinkle gown. Tiny, baby soft white feathers lined her graying blonde hair, giving her face an extra delicate countenance. Her tall frame stepped between Ryan and Cecil, standing with exquisite poise behind her granddaughter.
Guillermo’s camera fired off several times before the machine dropped from his face. “I’m certain we got it.”
“Thank you everyone.” Greaves clapped a few times, applauding his own excitement.
“If it’s not too much to ask, a comment or two from you, President Banach, would be great.” Guillermo pulled out a small notepad, similar to the one Adriana Ojeda had used. “And you as well, Mr. Greaves.” He threw in as an afterthought, but the Chamber representative marched over with an important air, nonetheless. Lili rushed to join her grandmother.
“I’m going to find us more drinks,” Ryan said to Eli, who nodded his approval.
I turned to face Elijah. “It’s not a good idea.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I didn’t get to where I am now in life by making poor decisions.”
“I need to keep my grades up. If I somehow landed that open spot, there’s no way I’d be able to maintain my coursework.” It broke me to say, but it had to come out. Denying the offer over and over again pained me. I wanted him to stop asking so I could dispel the idea from my head.
“You think I’d let you just fall into disarray?” His arms crossed before his thick chest. “I’m the captain of that team and I’ll be damned if any of my teammates dropout due to grades.” He shook his head. “I know what I saw out on the pitch the other day. You blocked that broken spell—you can doubt yourself all day long, but you’ve already shown that you do in fact have an envious amount of power flowing through your blood. You are capable of winning every holmgang battle with undeniable success.”
“It’s wrong to get people’s hopes up, you know?”
“Absolutely I do.” He sighed. “Do you?” I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up his hand to stop me. “Don’t tell me ‘no’ again. Just consider it a little longer. In a few days send me a note, and I’ll take that as your final answer.”
“Deal.” I sighed, happy for relief from his relentless petition.
He shook his head, and his weight shifted to the other foot, carrying him into a relaxed stance. “You look lovely, by the way," he said in a soft tone.
“Thank you.” The compliment melted me. “You clean up pretty well too.” While most men donned the classic tuxedo, Eli wore a modern suit without the tie. The material was rich and made his figure rather provocative to the female eye.
“You know,” he began, “It’s been awhile since we’ve been able to speak one-on-one without anyone else around.”
Until now I hadn’t been sure if he remembered the encounter. “Can I ask you a somewhat personal question?”
“Please,
do.” He rubbed his lips.
“What were you doing in the bookstore the day that we met?”
A teasing grin cracked across his face. “My agent had sent me to Brick Row to do some promotional work at the Longship, but I ended up in Twilberry’s because of you. I had seen you come out of The Cackler’s and well, I guess I wanted to be able to see you a little longer.”
My entire body flushed. “Do you usually say these things to flatter women?”
“No.” A light chuckled rolled from his mouth. “Does that intimidate you?”
“No.” I shook my head, but my insides sang a different song. His eyes sunk into me, their stare immense. “Yes.” I changed my answer.
He grinned at me again. “Tryout for the team.”
I laughed. “You can’t let it go, can you?”
“No.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I think our chemistry on the field will be great.”
I swallowed hard, intrigue and excitement surged through my veins. “How so?”
“You can’t feel it?” His pale eyebrow cocked. “There’s something between us. Just standing here I feel it. It’s pulling me toward you.”
Red whipped across my cheeks. “Don’t say something like that. Someone might hear you.” His flirtatious nature overwhelmed me. I needed him to stop if I were going to survive this evening.
“They only have champagne left.” Ryan Rosewall appeared from behind me. He handed Elijah a glass of flaxen champagne.
With Ryan back, I sensed this was my opportunity to leave the conversation. “Well, it was nice chatting with you, Elijah. I wish you and the team all the best this year.”
"And you as well, Ms. Blackwood." He raised the glass to his mouth, taking a sip, while his stare was affixed to me.
Chapter Eighteen
The stillness and sterility of the dark room made me uncomfortable. “Hello?” I called out.
The only answer I received was the sound of my own echo bouncing off the walls. Half of the floating orb lights brightened to a soft dimness, illuminating a rich space full of warm woods and a tall tin-tiled ceiling. There were no windows, but I caught a glimpse of draped fabric on the far wall. Their blacks ends tailored off into silver tassels. I took a step closer, and the dim orbs followed my movement. Across the face of each tapestry, a different year had been stitched into the material. Below the given dates, Holmgang Champions glittered in metallic needlework.
“Thanks for coming,” Eli’s voice called from behind me. I turned on my heel. He waved his wand in an overhead arch, and light burst forth from above. The apprentice stood just within the room. His hair had been pulled back in its iconic bun, and comfortable wear embraced his athletic figure. My eyes relished the sight. “I was afraid you’d get lost, seeing how the training hall is tucked underground.”
“Your directions were easy to follow.” I readjusted the bag on my shoulder as a cold wash of apprehension ran over my skin. My mind ran wild trying to identify one good reason for me to do this. I didn’t have any hidden powers or special talents. I was as plain a witch as ever with little more than a summer semester of knowledge about spells and potions.
“That’s good to hear.” He grinned, setting his backpack off to the side. “How’s your aunt doing?”
My cheeks filled with heat. “She’s doing well. I imagine she’s not too happy about my negative publicity. But other than that, she’s well.”
“A small price to pay for being a socialite in our world.” He shrugged in an unapologetic manner.
“Did you recognize her when you saw her at Twilberry's?” It was plausible he’d know her from the media. Aunt Margot did enjoy the limelight.
He shook his head. “I didn’t know she was Margaret Blackwood, since she introduced herself as Margot, but I recognized her face. My father still clips out Emporium articles about me and saves them. There tends to be a newspaper or two lying around the house, and I’ve seen her face a number of times.”
“What about his? Did you recognize my uncle when you saw us crossing from the Cackler to Twilberry’s?”
“I can’t say that I did, to be honest.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “He seems to be determined to hide from y’all. Then again, I don’t even know the Henry Blackwood the wizard very well, just Hank Blackwood the man.”
“Y’all?” Elijah said the word with an awkward and forced southern accent. “You are included in that y’all now.”
I laughed, embarrassed. “What can I say? The accent still slips out sometimes no matter how much I try to repress it. And I did just go through a summer semester. I guess it’s fair to loop me into that y’all.”
“You should embrace your southern upbringing.” Eli offered a sweet smile. “If it weren’t for our past, we wouldn’t be who we are today.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I mean think about it. If you had been raised with magic, you probably would have be as conceited as a celebrity and walk around as though you owned the school like the rest of the old aristocracy.”
“Are you conceited?” I’m sure he hadn’t expected me to zero in on this idea.
He swallowed as his arms rested by his sides. “That’s a good question—better than any reporter has ever asked me.”
“Do you have answer for it?” I wasn’t going to let him dodge the question.
His wand tapped the side of his leg in a repetitive rhythm as he thought. “I guess so, but no more than the common man.” I had a hard time believing this. Just as all the Emporium articles had affected my beliefs and thoughts about myself, I assumed the same had to have happened to him. But as to what extent the Emporium had influenced his self-worth was the true concern in this situation. “What about you? Are you conceited?”
I laughed. “Far from it.”
“Are you sure about that? Here you are, a bejantine trying out for the holmgang team.”
That wasn’t fair. “Because of your prodding. I was in the bleachers during the proper tryouts.”
He winked at me. “Speaking of which, shall we begin?”
My chest tightened from nerves. “Might as well.” I didn’t have high expectations for my performance, which once again made me question why I had agreed to do this. I wasn’t going to make the team, but something inside compelled me to arrange this small meeting. Perhaps it was the allure of being alone with Elijah Harlow. “How exactly do we begin?”
A light-hearted chuckle rolled from him. “Why don’t we run through your prepared set of offensive spells, and then since I already know you can block, we’ll move onto your potions.”
Everything inside of me stilled. “Prepared set of spells?” I didn’t even have the semblance of an idea as to what kind of potions would be useful in holmgang. The best I could do was a belching tonic that made the victim fart instead.
“You didn’t prepare anything?”
“No.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he said to diffuse the situation. “Just show me what you know.”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t have an impressive repertoire of spells. My palm grew clammy as it pressed against the old black wand in my hand. Blood beat in my ears as the smell of aged wood filled my nostrils. I shook my head. I knew this was going to be pitiful and embarrassing. “Which dummy do you want me to use?”
He eyed the line of motionless, wooden mannequins that stood stiff in front of fern-stamped wallpaper. “Actually, I have a better idea.” He walked to the far end of the room and faced me. “Attack me. I want to feel the power behind your spells.”
“What?” I didn’t think the situation could get any worse, but the universe found a way. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He nodded, lifting his wand. “I’ll only block. Don’t worry if you get me. I’ve been dealt some nasty blows in the game.”
I took a deep breath and lifted my wand in preparation for this quasi-duel. The tickle of energy streamed down my arm and tingled in my fingertips. The wand begged to unleash my power. “Susa.” I swept my wand before me but s
ensed only a part of my power leaving me. A small ripple tumbled forward, intending to push him. It was pitiful.
“Rem.” He breathed, blocking my spell with cool ease.
I struck harder. “Imbior.” A jade vine of energy sputtered out of my wand. The magical thread frayed in areas as it flew to his chest.
Before the spell could rope around him, he whipped his wand before his chest. “Rem,” he muttered as he took a step back as though he were avoiding a rapier thrust.
Frustration crawled across my skin. It was the same problem I faced in casting class every day. My spells were weak, but I didn’t feel weak. I had hoped my desire for this spot would have sparked a change in my abilities. “Paralyo,” I called out and jabbed my wand toward him.
My aim was off. A fiery burst shotgunned out of my wand and flew straight to his foot.
He hopped out of the way but stumbled. When Elijah looked up, his face constricted in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He rolled his eyes. “You numbed three of my toes. I can’t feel them at all.” A chuckle poured from him that eased the air.
I struck while he was distracted. “Blot.” It was the spell Murdock had used. The incantation and movement burrowed in my memory.
“Rem.” He blocked the spell and gazed at me with a lifted brow. “How do you know that spell?”
A pang of worry shot through me. I feared implicating myself by accident. “Why?”
He took a cautious step toward me. “Because that spell is associated with some dark magic.”
No one had ever categorized spells as light and dark before. “What do you mean?”
“You really don’t know?” I shook my head, prompting him to continue. “Just as there are illegal spells and potions, there are also illegal rituals. Blot is a spell commonly used with banned rituals. Where did you hear that spell?”
I couldn’t tell him the truth. “Maybe in an Emporium article,” I lied. “I can’t recall exactly.”
“Be careful where you use that at. People will get the wrong impression.” He stepped back and raised his wand, dropping the subject. “I’m ready for more whenever you are.”
