by Janeal Falor
“Focus on the room, like I said. The air, the space, the things.”
Sounds strange to me, especially with all this stuff. Still not sure I understand the concept, but I suppose I can try. I get a feel for how it is, not a cursory glance like before, but a deeper, searching gaze. Finding the pictures hanging on the walls, the thick layer of dust coating everything but the floor, the air heavy with dust. “I think I’ve got it.”
“Good. Now take your magic and push it through the space, telling it to get wider and higher.”
I pull my magic together and attempt to shove it out, but nothing happens. “This spell doesn’t seem to be working.”
“You’re trying too hard,” he says. “How did you learn spells before, without help?”
Tried everything I could think of, many of which feel too silly to try in front of him. “When possible, I’d watch warlocks casting spell. Once I had managed a few rare moments alone, I’d play with it. It usually takes at least a few months for me to get anything, unless it’s really simplistic.”
“Months? Why didn’t you give up?”
“It was one of the few good things in my life. A rare thing I actually wanted.”
“You really are amazing.” Before I can stammer an appropriate response, he asks, “What’s the easiest spell for you to do?”
“Smoothing out my hair so it’s not a tangled, flyaway mess.”
His gaze darts to my hair. “It’s not a mess at all, it’s always slicked back in Chardonian fashion. You must be really good at it. Or maybe it’s not as bad as you think?”
I splash my magic out across my hair, pulling the slicked back spell off my locks. To further my point, I pull the pins from my hair and let it tumble down my back, past my waist. Even without a mirror, I can see some of the curly locks are scattering everywhere. Despite this he smiles.
“So it isn’t well suited to Chardonian ways.” He leans closer. “I like it.”
Warmth shines through me. He likes it? No one ever liked it when I was young. But then, maybe it doesn't always have to be to our society's standards. Serena’s hair looks good even when it’s done in Envadi-style, better than the usual Chardonian style even. Perhaps the comments about my frizz had more to do with punishments than what it actually looks like?
“You are really good at it too. Perfect.”
I blush. “Thank you, but how does that help right now?”
“We can use it to discover how you learn spells when not stressed. Think about what it feels like to cast it. You don’t have to tell me, but I want you to remember and feel it. What did you do when you first figured it out? What do you do to cast it now?”
That first time I finally figured how to cast the spell was amazing. It always is. I think on it, how I closed my eyes and felt the air become thicker and used it to keep my hair in place. The feel of the magic streaming from me, responding to my desire. Once I figured it out, it was so simple. No other spells have ever come so easily.
“Got it.”
“Good. Now take that same feeling, that push of magic, and apply it to this spell. Feel the room around you, the things in it, and then expand everything.”
Somehow, the repetition is easier to do when I was alone. When there's no one around to see me fail. I try again anyway. It feels as if something starts to give, like my magic is pushing on the air outside me, but then I lose it. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to be working.”
“Maybe close your eyes. Visualize it in your mind.”
“I’ll try.” And I do but feel a little foolish, considering the circumstances. Like I’m playing a game with one of my youngest sisters instead of learning magic from a warlock. But he’s not only a good warlock but nice to look at. Really nice. So I try anyway. Besides, I must figure this out, whether or not I feel silly in the process. Too much is depending on it.
Picturing the room, the things in it, and the space and walls expanding around them. The air stretching is the easy part. Getting it to actually change, much harder. I grab hold of my magic, taking it straight from my core, and attempt to let it fill the expanding space. There have been no results with that so far, so I go further by shoving it with everything I can muster.
A yelp echoes through the room.
My eyes snap open. Lukas is hovering in the air high above my head, near a ceiling that is far, far above me. I gasp, snuffing my magic. He gives another yelp as he starts to fall to the floor. A gasp escapes me with a squeak. How do I save him? This wasn’t part of the lesson. He’s going to crash!
I jump forward hoping I can at least break his fall, and brace myself for pain. Before he smashes into the ground, a blue spell zips from his hand and quickly surrounds him. His rapid decedent halts with a jerk.
With a giant exhale, I slouch. If he hadn’t stopped himself, that would have really hurt. Slowly, he floats to the ground, and the blue light disappears back into his hands.
“Did you forget to picture me in the room?” he asks.
For once, I don’t look away as a blush heats my cheeks. He could have been seriously injured; the least I can do is look him in the eyes. But I’m not admitting why I neglected such an important detail. Picturing him in the room was too distracting. “Sorry.”
He laughs. “It’s fine, just surprising. You really pack a lot of magic.”
Seeing him at ease makes me laugh, too. “Maybe you should have placed more emphasis on how important it was to picture you in the room as well.”
He puts both hands on his chest. “You’ve got me there. In my defense, I didn’t expect you to cast the spell so forcefully. Especially when you started off having trouble with it. Most warlocks I know can’t go from not being able to do a spell at all, to surpassing expectations with it.
“This is a great sign,” he continues. “You’re a natural. It should be easier to prepare you for the tournament.”
This time I do turn away as I blush, which allows me to explore what I accomplished. The room is ten times the size it was before. Everything in it, the pictures, trophies, jewels, all the items are the same size as they were previously and about the same place as before, only more space stretches between them now. The ceiling soars overhead, making it almost feel as if we’re standing outside.
“It would be wonderful if that were really the case. I can’t believe I actually did this. Is it bigger on the outside as well?” I ask.
“No. You could do that by picturing the outside as well, but for our purposes we don’t want to draw extra attention to ourselves.”
I nod. Any indication of something going on in this house that would be an excuse for law officers to investigate would be bad. I’m sure they’d find an excuse to get me out of the tournament, anything to do away with me.
“Where does all of the extra space come from, then?”
“From what you did to it. You took what was already there, and expanded it, made it bigger.”
I frown. “Then why isn’t it bigger on the outside as well? Shouldn’t it expand everywhere?”
“Only where you tell it to. Magic is a powerful thing. It can create and destroy much.”
If that’s really the case, then… “Can it make something from nothing? Like food? I’ve never been able to make food on my own.”
“Yes, but it’s harder. When there's something present to work with, it’s much easier to stretch it out. Make sense?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Shall we start your lesson then?” Lukas asks.
“I thought we had already started.”
“That was just a warm up.”
He moves closer to me but stops when he’s about ten paces away and I find myself wishing he was closer. I’m sure I’ll be able to see what he does well enough from here. “This is about how far you’ll be from your opponent in the duels.”
Suddenly the distance seems too close. Much too close.
He casts a bright green spell that leaves a circle on the floor around us. I could lie down and stretch
out in it comfortably without hitting the light. “This is the size of the ring. Most warlocks don’t move far from their original spot, but you are allowed anywhere inside the ring. If you step out or get knocked out of it, you lose.”
“Simple enough.”
“Until someone slams a wind spell at you.”
Why am I getting myself into this? “Point taken.”
“Any thoughts or questions so far?” Lukas asks.
“Why don’t most warlocks move from the original spot?”
“Chardonians are a strange bunch. The way they do everything isn’t based off how effective it will be, but how it appears to others. They think by using only their magic, and no physical movement, they look stronger.”
“Does that mean I can touch the other duelers?”
“Sort of. If you somehow managed to accidentally bump into your opponent, it’s fine. But using anything other than magic to defeat your opponent is against the rules. So even though you can touch them, they’d probably call foul and say you were trying to defeat them without magic.”
“No touching them. Understood.”
“Right. But it’d be good to move around. Do it a lot, since they won’t be used to it. They won’t be expecting it. Just don’t go near them. They are going to do whatever it takes to kick you out of the tournament.”
“Naturally, move but don’t move too much. Why didn’t I think of that before?” I roll my eyes before growing serious. “Do you think I can survive this?”
He takes my hand. “I’ve never met anyone that has as much raw power as you. The only thing you’re missing is knowledge. We’ll teach you everything we can. You’ll not only live through this, but you will make history.”
I don’t know what warms me more, his words or his hand on mine.
The door opens, and we jump apart. Waverly whistles as she strides in.
“This is nice work.”
At first, I think she’s talking about Lukas holding my hand, but then I realize she’s examining the room. It’s good she didn’t notice. Even if she’s talked about how she feels about Chadwick, how I feel about Lukas is so tumbled, I wouldn’t know what to say.
“It was all Cynthia,” Lukas says.
I rub my hands together, still thinking of how it felt a moment ago encased in his.
“Nice work,” Waverly says again. “To think you’ve been hiding this much power all along.”
“Thank you.” I glance at the floor as I blush.
“What else have you been working on?”
Something you interrupted. I banish the thought. This is silly. She didn’t interrupt anything but Lukas helping me feel more confident about doing well in the tournament.
“Going over rules mostly,” Lukas responds. See? Nothing here to worry about interrupting. Except it makes me wonder if he feels what I just felt. If there’s something between us, or if he’s just being nice. Maybe in Chryos, taking a girl by the hand and offering words of encouragement and support are a common practice.
She nods. “I’m going to get dinner going while you two work. Is there anything you’d like?”
“Whatever you make is fine. Thank you,” I say.
“I’m not picky,” Lukas replies.
“Pickled pig’s feet it is.”
Gross. Can that possibly even be a thing? I manage to hold back a groan, but Lukas doesn’t.
“What?” she says. “Don’t you like pig’s feet? You should have made a request when I asked.”
He forces a smile, taut and wholly false, but trying. “I’m sure it’ll be great.”
She laughs. “Don’t lie to spare my feelings. I was only teasing.”
Her laughter echoes through the now cavernous room as she leaves. I’m ready to get back to where we were before she interrupted, but it doesn’t come. Instead of the current flowing between us being filled with something new and exciting, there’s only awkwardness.
He scuffs the toe of his shoe on the floor. “Guess we should keep working.”
Picking up his words, I say, “Guess we should.”
Once we return to practicing, the awkwardness lessens, though doesn’t fully leave. It’s easier to absorb his lesson now that we both understand how I learn. Much easier than when I used to attempt to teach myself spells. But still hard. I hope it will be enough.
Chapter Twenty
Waverly and Lukas alternate helping me train, sometimes working together. Each has such a unique perspective that I can’t decide who is better to train with. Lukas teaches attack and defensive spells, while Waverly shows me fun spells similar to the nail changing, in addition to coloring my hair, as a way to better understand my magic, how it works, and to practice using it regularly.
My knowledge and skills grow, though still feel small compared to theirs, and nothing to what they should be to compete in the tournament. I keep pushing through, hoping it’s enough, but fearing it’s not even close.
I rarely catch a glimpse of my protectors. Unless I count Lukas and Waverly, who I see every day. Lukas always drops in, and Waverly’s presence has been good. Though she was right about Zade being livid. He didn’t stop by, just sent her a scathing letter. Strangely enough, Waverly read it out loud to me, laughing at inappropriate times. At least she seems happy, and I’m glad to have someone else in the house. It’s not as cold with her here. Except right now she’s gone with Chadwick to get some groceries. I’m alone. Well, as alone as I can be. I’m sure there are at least a few warlocks watching over the house to keep me safe.
I’m supposed to be practicing a blocking spell, but instead I’m playing with moving the air in the room. Sweeping it back and forth, sometimes lightly in a powder blue and sometimes with large blue-violet gusts. When it’s strong enough to make an item fall, I rush the air as quickly as I can to catch the item and put it back. It’s like a game, but it would be more fun if someone else was here to push the air back and forth with me.
A knock sounds at the door. I can’t imagine who it would be, but if it was someone dangerous, the guards would have stopped them. Even if the guards couldn’t, I’m certain the attacker wouldn’t be knocking. I pull my magic back into myself and head for the door. I almost open it, but then decide even if it seems safe, I should still be cautious. I do the one-sided, invisible-door spell I'm getting quite good at. Once I see who it is, I squeal, yank open the door, and try to wrap Serena and Bethany in a hug at the same time.
Once I’m done squeezing them, or at least finished hugging them on the porch where anyone can see us, I beckon them into the house.
“What are you doing here? I thought it wasn’t safe.”
“I’m done being safe. I’m here to find out what’s going on with you because something clearly is,” Serena says.
“And I made her bring me,” Bethany says.
“But I’m not staying in the same room as before,” Serena adds.
“Wouldn’t dream of putting you through that again.” It must be hard enough, just coming back here and reliving the memories. I hug them again. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you, thank you.” Tears prick my eyes, so I hurry to change the topic. “How long are you staying?”
“Just the night, unfortunately,” Serena says. “We want to stay longer, but they need us at home.”
“Who is tending the girls?”
“They have mother. She claimed she’s feeling well enough for the task,” Bethany says.
Serena adds, “I also think she’s becoming more accustomed to the idea of father not being around.”
“I think so as well,” Bethany says. “Besides, the older girls are helping.”
“They’re not as young as they used to be. None of us were ever really young for long.” The thought makes me ache for all of us. I wish we would have known things could be different sooner. Or that we lived in a different country. Or, even better, that someone had already given a woman her freedom before Serena came along, and that another woman showed us all girls can do magic as well. Things
could have been so different. But the only way it will change now is if I keep pushing forward.
“I’m thrilled you’re here. Really I am. But isn’t this going to put more pressure on our family? There’s already negativity and worry surrounding us. Won't you being here make it worse?”
“It’s a little late to be worrying about that. The rumors of your freedom are spreading.”
“I’m sorry about all of this.” My voice sounds as tiny as I feel. “I didn’t mean to make everything worse. I wanted to make things better.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Serena says, her voice fierce. “It may be harder on us, on our family, but what you’re doing—” She blinks away the wetness in her eyes. “Zade freed me. You freed yourself. I wish I was brave enough to be as strong as you are.”
My chin quivers. “That’s not all. I’ve done something that could be deadly.”
They both look at me with patient disbelief in their eyes, like they believe I have done something but not something deadly. They did grow up with me after all and know most of my antics are usually easy to hide. Part of me wishes that was the case this time while the other part finally feels like I’m doing what I should.
“What is it?” Serena’s voice betrays only a hint of her agitation at being presented with another of my problems.
I take a shaky breath, but it does nothing to calm me. “I’m dueling in the tournament.”
Bethany’s eyes crinkle before lighting. I can almost see her putting thoughts together, all the little pieces from us growing up starting to make sense. Serena’s a different story. Her forehead bunches as she grips her skirt.
“Don’t be silly, Cynthia. You may have the status of a warlock, but the only way you could compete with them is by using a gun. I doubt they’ll let your status remain if you try that.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” I say.
Serena eyes the sitting room, a place we never entered when staying previously with Thomas. “I’m fine. We just need to clear this matter.”
“Cynthia’s right,” Bethany adds. “It’s probably best if we sit.”
Serena takes a step back. “There’s no reason to sit. We just need to talk this over rationally. There’s no need for you to duel. You don’t cast spells.”
