Mine to Spell (Mine #2)

by Janeal Falor

  I learned too much from my outspoken sister. Though it’s good I did. If I hadn’t, I don’t think I’d have my freedom now. “I was being inane and taunting the freedom I’d gained under Zade’s supervision in front of Father. Wearing what’s considered tarnished clothes. Naturally, as soon as he saw me, he banished me from attending the ball and locked me in a room. I snuck out, but by then, all the fun was over and it was just fighting.”

  “You’ve never been to another ball or other big activity?”

  “No. Serena went to one other ball when she turned sixteen before she ever met Zade, but hers was supposed to be my first. I’ve been around people at the tournament last year but didn’t have many opportunities to get to know others. We’re discouraged from mingling. Other than that, the only chance I got was at class, and the most girls they’d allow in a class was ten. The boys could come and go as they pleased, or probably as their parents pleased, so their numbers varied a lot. Some weeks there would be no boys. Other weeks we’d have twelve to fifteen.”

  “That sounds like a horrible idea.”

  “Oh, it was. It was supposed to be a good chance for us girls to learn what it would be like should our owners ever do something like take us to a restaurant, or ball, or some public event to show us off.” Thank magic I escaped that fate. “Mostly, it was an excuse for the boys to get huffy because there weren’t enough girls giving them attention. Some were nice, though. It was just better when they kept in smaller numbers.”

  “I bet.”

  His gaze becomes intense, like he’s trying to see how much I hurt from the memories. To distract us both, I ask, “What about other Chardonian women? Why haven’t they figured out how to do magic when I have?”

  He leans back. “I don’t know for certain. You have a phenomenal amount of power. That’s probably the biggest thing. Having so much of it makes it harder to not have something happen with it.”

  “That makes sense. I remember the first time I cast a spell, it was like something was struggling to get out of me.”

  “What happened?”

  It feels strange to tell someone, but also like my magic, the story is bursting from me, excited to be told after years of cowering. “I convinced Serena to throw mud at the councilman’s horses after sneaking out during one of their meetings. When father found out, Serena took the blame and the worst of the punishment. I don’t know what he did to her, but she never again joined in my antics. Just as well. Father sent me to the basement alone without any light for my part in it. I kept thinking about how scared I was and how I wished more than anything there was light. Something built and built inside me until it popped out, a bright flicker of hope among my dark guilt.”

  “And you never told anyone?”

  “I wanted to. I usually tell my sisters everything, but I was seven. Even then, I knew well enough that women didn’t do magic. I didn’t know if I was broken or what, but I did know it was something I needed to keep to myself.” It was then I started showing everyone only the side I wanted them to see.”

  “It’s great that you figured it out yourself, but what’s even more amazing is that you kept it to yourself all these years. That’s quite the accomplishment.” His words fill me with warmth. “It sounds like it was the fact that you have so much magic charged with an emotional experience that helped you discover it. There’s a lot of things Chardonian men do to make it harder on woman. Not only do they punish you into submission, but they say women can’t. And they put restrictions on you, like wearing gloves.”

  “Gloves change magic?”

  “Many people find it difficult to cast through any sort of barrier. That’s why most cast spells through their bare hands.”

  “But I’ve cast spells through my gloves many times.”

  “Harder, not impossible. And again, your level of magic would make it easier. Have you ever tried a spell with your gloves on and then the same spell without?”

  “No.”

  “You should. It’ll probably be different.”

  I smooth down my hair with my usual spell, same as always. Then I take off my glove and try again. Only this time, the spell rips out of me so powerful, my hair will probably be stuck to my head for a week. “Wow.”

  Lukas chuckles. “Gloveless for the tournament, I think.”

  “That would be wise.” This will take some getting used to. “Why do you wear glasses if you could fix it with magic?”

  “I don’t know enough about eyes to fix it myself and can’t afford someone who does.”

  I hook a finger around two of my bracelets. “Is that why they can’t fix Zade’s limp? I thought he had a lot of money.”

  “He does, at least from my understanding. His problem is that the warlock who first tried to heal it did so incorrectly, and he has yet to find someone that both knows how to properly fix it and has enough magic to do so.”

  The thought lingers with me, reminding me that even when I gain more knowledge about magic, some things are still impossible to fix. Poor Zade. “It’s getting late. We didn’t spend much time preparing for the tournament.”

  “This is all important, too. You can learn a lot from what’s outside yourself.” He leans a little closer. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to come back tomorrow.”

  Mind? I wish it was already tomorrow. “If you have time, that would be nice.”

  He gives me his smile small and full of happiness. Something warm and wonderful rushes through me, like magic, but brighter. It’s because I’m excited to finally be able to ask questions and actually get answers. That’s all it is. Asking and answering.

  “Tomorrow then,” he says.

  “Tomorrow.”

  As I watch him go, I keep reminding myself it’s only about learning magic. But it feels like so much more.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lukas not only comes the next day but comes when I’d usually be asleep. He’s much too chipper for the early hour. If my own anticipation of him coming and teaching more hadn’t woke me extra early this morning, I’d think his sunny personality was wrong. Instead, it brightens me even more.

  “You must be serious about helping if you’re here this early.”

  “Course I am. I've had years of practice. You only have about six weeks.”

  My throat falls to the pit of my stomach. And here I was hoping for something a little more… There isn’t anything to hope for except learning and surviving. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  “Wish I could say sorry, but I’m not. You may have power and strength, but you don’t have the training, knowledge, and experience needed with it. Surviving long isn’t likely unless we change that.”

  The thought of my death flashes through my mind. “When you put it like that…”

  “We should practice. And no getting sidetracked today,” he says, like we both need the reminder. “What spells do you already know?”

  “Not many. Mostly things I saw father do, or things I suppose I wanted bad enough. My hair spell you saw yesterday.” I shrug. “I don’t really understand how most spells work and why I can do some things but not others.”

  “We’ll start there then,” he says. “The spells you can cast depend on your knowledge and power you have. Your spells have probably been working fairly well since you have a lot of power. But could be better since you don’t have the knowledge that goes with them.”

  “When I hexed Edward, why was it so effective? I didn’t know what I was doing. I was only more frightened than I’ve ever been. The spell was a reaction. Never used it before, yet it was entirely effective.”

  “You must have tapped into your power. Your emotions sent you into survival mode.”

  “Survival mode?”

  “Instinct, if you will. Everyone has a natural sense of self-preservation. But it can only take you so far. Knowledge is key. And using barriers like we talked about, like women wearing gloves, play into that knowledge.”

  “So spells are affected not only by knowledge one has, b
ut also by barriers?”

  “Yes. Distance also weakens them.”

  “What about the colors of spells? Do they mean anything?” I ask.

  “Yes and no.”

  “You’re a very clear teacher.”

  He laughs. “Only because you didn’t let me finish.”

  Good point.

  “There isn’t a straight answer,” he says. “Colors mean various things to different people.” He flicks out a spell of green tinted with yellow and swirled with blue. “This is nothing but a flash of magic colored by my emotions. What emotions do you think they are just from looking at it?”

  Green, blue, and yellow, just like bruises. “Pain or sadness, yet that doesn’t seem to reflect your mood.”

  “For me they mean happiness. Green grass, blue sky, yellow sun. A warm, sunny day spent with someone I care about.” He clears his throat and releases the color. “But it illustrates my point. We’re very different in our emotions, and how we perceive things. It changes what colors our magic is.”

  Much cheerier thought. Does that mean my magic will always be darker than his?

  He continues. “But it can change over time. Since your feelings aren’t always the same, you won’t always produce the same-colored spells. And likewise, you may find two people can cast spells which look almost exactly alike if they have similar views and feelings.”

  “If the color of spells comes from feelings, it makes sense they would change.” My own feelings have been ripped, yanked, and pulled into all sorts of new places lately. Perhaps they won’t always be dark?

  “Exactly. Also, since mood also affects it, the color can change or be tinted with another color even if the person’s perspective of the spell itself hasn’t changed.”

  “That’s why father's spells were always tinted with red when he was angry.”

  “Red is a very common color to pop up with anger, but it can change from person to person and day to day. My anger might be black this morning, but red tonight. Though it usually changes more over a longer period of time. Or I knew a lady who would have yellow tints to her spells when she was angry, even though that color usually comes up when people are happy. There are more possibilities than there are spell casters. How about an example?”

  “That’d be fantastic.”

  “Cast an image of whatever you like and I’ll duplicate it.”

  The first thing that comes to mind is the necklace I’m wearing. It’s simple enough, casting light to look similar to it, though the light is just a transparent replication of the real thing. Perhaps with more practice it would get better. Lukas smiles at the sight before stepping closer to get a better look at it. After a moment, he duplicates my spell, with some subtle changes.

  “What do you notice?” he asks.

  “Your spell has red tints, but you don’t seem angry. Why are they there?”

  His gaze is so intense; I want to look away but can’t bring myself to break the connection.

  “Do you really want to know?” His voice is husky. The red in his spell grows darker, deeper.

  Oh my. “Perhaps I shouldn’t delve into your personal feelings just yet.” And I’m not sure I want to delve into mine either. This strange power coursing through me is unfamiliar, almost like magic, but the warmth carries something entirely different. And while it’s not entirely unwelcome, it’s not going to save my life during the tournament.

  He gives one of his small, powerful smiles, and that power turns to hot water, making me want to melt onto the floor. “Not yet, then. Maybe you’d like to try casting a spell right now, and we can talk about the colors in it.”

  I keep my breathing steady, despite how difficult it is. “Perhaps later. I’m famished. Don’t you think we should break for lunch? Otherwise, my spells will all be tainted with hungry emotions.”

  “Well then,” he says, voice still husky, “we should eat and then continue practice. It’ll be easier on a full stomach anyway.”

  Right now, it seems anything but easy. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. What is going on with me? Why am I reacting like this?

  Without another word, I charge for the kitchen and quickly pull lunch together. We eat in silence. An awkward silence at first, but it shifts over time. He winks at me before tilting his head to the side and crossing his eyes. I laugh, and more of the strange tension dissipates. By the time we finish, I’m starting to feel more like myself again.

  As we clean up, the strange tension tries to creep back in. I shove it away. I don’t want whatever it is interfering with my learning. It’s not the time for that old, fake Cynthia to come back. Though this feels much more real and intense than anything I ever tried to fake. All the same, it’s not time for games. I’ve got to learn this.

  The hours flow smoothly, just like the new spells coming from me. It’s hard work that takes a lot of thought and concentration, but Lukas is a good teacher. He’s patient and kind and always has a smile lingering nearby, even when I struggle to make a spell work the first several times. What would my sisters think of him?

  Finally, he says, “It’s late. Later than I thought. I should be going.”

  I wish it wasn’t. His company has been too enjoyable for it to be time for him to leave. But it is late. The realization sends me yawning.

  He laughs. “Yup. It’s definitely past time for me to go.”

  Waking did come too early this morning. But… “Are we going to practice again tomorrow? At the same time?”

  “I think we should.”

  It will be worth getting up early again. “Thank you for all your help today.”

  “I'm happy to. Be sure and rest up tonight. You need to replenish your magic.”

  “It goes down?”

  “Just like you need to rest after running, you need to rest after using magic. It will regenerate itself, but time and rest helps.”

  “Will it grow more powerful over time then?”

  “No. What you have is all you ever will have, unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless you take someone else’s magic.” I don’t know if I like the sound of that. He asks, “Do you remember the sacrifice at the tournament?”

  I remember that. And how Edward tried to steal blood. My magic. The memory is still ripe with fear. I give a wary nod.

  “That’s how you gain more. You take someone else’s blood, their magic. The more you take, the more you gain. Their magic becomes a part of the person who took it, so their overall power increases.”

  Serena mentioned that it worked like this, but I only worried about it in terms of owners. I almost hate to ask, “Does the Grand Chancellor usually do sacrifices at the tournament?

  “Not usually.” The reply eases the tugging at the back of my mind until he adds, “Always. And he is always the one to do a sacrifice at their council meetings, too.”

  The thought makes me want to smack the Grand Chancellor with a hex. “How can Zade sit through that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  A creak sounds somewhere close. Strange house noises. I don’t know how long it will take me to get used to them.

  “Did you hear that?” Lukas says.

  A chill runs through me. “I did, but I thought it was just the house. I’m not accustomed to it.”

  He stands there, head cocked to the side. I keep quiet as he listens, and I listen, too. I strain for any sound that would explain the chill in me. But there’s nothing. Perhaps it was just the house. It takes a few moments longer, but he seems to come to the same conclusion I do. His face relaxes.

  He says, “I really shoul—”

  The window shatters, an amber light breaking through it. Glass flies through the room, slicing my body. I spin away from the onslaught. Lukas grabs my arm and hurtles me down the hall in front of him. Without further prompting, I run for the front door. What is happening? Who is attacking us? I rush out the door, Lukas close behind. Flashes of amber, violet, and magenta chase after us, lighting the dark of night.<
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  Chapter Thirteen

  I’m running, pushing myself as fast as I can to get away until suddenly I realize Lukas isn’t behind me. I stop and see him waiting just outside the house. I skitter back to him. “What are you doing?”

  “Go,” he calls out, a vivid jade light flashing from his hand toward the house.

  “And leave you here alone? We’re staying together.”

  “But they could—”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  He growls, but the corners of his mouth are slightly turned upward seeming to indicate that as much as he's miffed with me, he's grateful I'm loyal. “Come on.”

  After shooting another jade spell, this one leaving a faint wall in the street, he leads me to a nearby house. We hunker behind it, hiding from direct sight of the still-open door. “I’m going to try to find out who’s attacking. As soon as I do, or if they discover where we are before that, we run that way.” He points down another dark alley. “Got it?”

  I nod. Running is easy; it’s when you're caught that’s difficult.

  “Better. They’re coming at us hard.”

  He peeks around the corner. I stare at him, jealous of his being able to see everything taking place. Except, there’s no reason I can’t as well. He never said I couldn’t. I brush close to him, just so we can stay in the shadows, his warmth seeping into me, and peek around the corner. I dig my feet into the pebble-covered ground with a crunch, ready to run.

  A moment later, fuchsia lights soar from the house. They follow our path straight down the porch and front lane until they hit the street, smashing into Lukas’s spell with a splat. The attacking spell slams against the green shield a few times, whittling away a little more pink each time until it’s gone.

  Though they won’t know exactly where we’re located, the tension coiled in my muscles keeps me ready to run or react at any moment.

  A warlock exits the house, hooded and cloaked in black, just like those who attacked Zade at the ball. Blast! Why one of them? Another warlock follows him out, hooded as well, but something about the shape of his build is familiar. I grip Lukas’s arm.