Crystal Wing Academy: Book One: Outling

by Marty Mayberry

  With a short bow, Donovan held out his hand, and Cloven encircled Donovan’s wrist with a thick leather band, connecting the two sides at the top with his stone that had been cut…

  “Is that a crescent moon?” Alys asked, inching forward.

  Donovan’s gaze flicked in my direction.

  The jeweler had carved Donovan’s obsidian. To me, it looked like a beast’s black claw, but it must be a moon. Who’d ask for their stone to be shaped like a claw?

  “Fleur,” Cloven said, and I approached him, eager to see how my moonstone had been set. What if I hated it? “I must say, a dagger is a very unusual setting.”

  “Because I’m a girl?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Because most students choose something decorative. Ornamental.”

  “A blade can be ornamental.”

  “Not this one.”

  I stroked the hilt the jeweler had intricately carved with satyrs, sprites, and a dragonfly. Runic writing encircled the base, making me even more eager to do some research in the library. Completely black, the grip sharply contrasted with the gleaming silvery blade and my opalescent moonstone.

  “I didn’t want anything ornamental,” I said. “That’s why I chose a weapon.”

  Cloven’s perceptive gaze met mine. “A symbol perhaps?”

  My head tilting, I tried to read his expression, but whatever he was thinking remained locked away from me.

  “True power needs to be honed,” he said. “Sharpened. Bent to your will. In some ways, one could say our power is weaponized.”

  “Isn’t that why we’re here? To learn to manipulate power?”

  “For a few, perhaps.” His gaze scanned the kids who chatted together, showing off their stones. All but Donovan, who watched us with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Most here will never miss what they can’t harness.” There was no malice in his voice. “But you’re special.”

  “In what way?”

  His smile lightened the solemn mood filling the room like mud. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” He lifted a leather sheath off the table. “Now, for your dagger.” As I strapped the sheath around my right calf, he said, “Il leetsa un prommtanas teo. This gift of the fae is yours.”

  I reached out, and he handed me my blade.

  My hands tingled the moment the dagger met my skin, and I jerked back when the tip of the knife nicked my finger. As I lifted my finger toward my mouth, a drop of blood fell, hitting my moonstone’s surface.

  The stone flashed fire but cleared in a blink, returning to its original milky color shot through with blue and purple shadows.

  Cloven’s sharp inhalation cut through the room, and Donovan took a step nearer to us, his hand lifting.

  “Wetting your stone already, I see,” Cloven said softly.

  “Wetting? What does that mean?”

  Once settled in my sheath, the stone hummed before going silent.

  “I believe you know what wetting means,” Cloven said.

  “How can I?” I lifted one eyebrow. “I’m an outling.”

  “You’ve always been more than an outling.”

  “Hmm.” While I contemplated his comments, I couldn’t hide the knowledge growing inside my heart. My blood had been absorbed by my moonstone. I’d wetted the stone.

  I returned to Donovan and Patty as Cloven called another student’s name.

  “Your setting is amazing,” Patty said, staring down at my leg.

  My face heated, but I struck what I considered a pirate’s pose. “You’ve got to admit the dagger makes me look badass.”

  Donovan’s glance took in everything about me, not just my blade. The heat in his eyes made dragonflies scatter in my belly. “Totally badass.”

  “If everyone would take a seat.” Cloven waved to a large circle of wooden lounge chairs clustered on one side of the room. “Now that you have your stones, it’s time to dabble with power.”

  I frowned at the wooden reclining chair before sitting, while Donovan dropped onto the one on my right and Patty on my left. “We’re putting our feet up?”

  Cloven laughed. “We’re experimenting with power here. I want you relaxed, able to focus. Sit. Sit.”

  Alys took the seat on the other side of Donovan while Moira joined her on the right.

  “I’ll need utter silence for the next few hours as each of you focuses on drawing in a strand of power,” Cloven said from the center of the chair ring. He pressed his fingertips together, and his robes swayed with his excitement. “Today, that’s all we’ll do. Find a thread and pull it close, if you can, then release it.”

  “Just one thread?” I asked.

  “Look at the cocky outling.” Alys snickered. “Dreaming she can locate, let alone draw in, more than one thread.”

  Leave it to Alys to mess with my good mood. She never could remain silent for long. Like always, she’d jumped in the fray slashing daggers.

  But I had the better blade.

  “No mocking,” Cloven said. “We’re all new here, just starting out.” The wink he sent me suggested I remain patient with Alys, but it was getting hard to bite my lips together. “And, to answer your question, Fleur, yes, one thread today. On that note, why don’t you go first?”

  Alys snorted.

  Moira poked Alys in the side. “Stop it.”

  “Close your eyes, Fleur,” Cloven said. “And, if it helps, place your finger over your moonstone.”

  “Do I need to touch it?”

  “Some of you won’t even need to be near your stone to connect with the power you’ll store there. The stone could remain in your room and you’d still be able to store and access power. Although, most of you will carry your stones with you always.”

  Drawing up my knees, I slid my fingertip across my stone and closed my eyes.

  “Picture one thread,” Cloven said from near the base of my chair.

  “What color should I draw?” I asked.

  “We only get one color, Fleur,” Alys snapped.

  “Silence!” Cloven cleared his throat, and his voice lowered. “I said we need silence, Alys. If you can’t control yourself, you need to leave.”

  “Sorry.” The sulk came through in her voice.

  “What color would you like to draw, Fleur?” Cloven asked.

  “Today? A mix of blue and green like the ocean.” And the dragon’s scales.

  Last night, after I’d fled the woods, nothing had chased me except my own fear, nipping at my heels, until I’d locked my door and collapsed against it.

  I’d then spent half my night worrying about the dragon, that he’d been hurt by whatever he chased in the woods.

  “Can you find a thread?” Cloven asked. “It’s okay if you can’t.”

  “I can.” It wavered in front of me, just out of reach.

  “Then draw it closer.”

  Snagging it with my mind, I tugged and it rushed toward me, coiling inside my belly. No, not my belly but inside my moonstone.

  “Release the thread, Fleur,” Cloven said. “If it makes it easier, picture scissors cutting it.”

  One snip, and it was gone.

  “And you can open your eyes,” he said. “Excellent first effort. Almost as if you’ve done this before.” The twinkle in his green eyes told me he knew very well I had. More than one thread, and at more than one time. “You’ve progressed to the next lesson, but I won’t chastise you for jumping ahead of the class. You’ll suffer enough waiting for the rest of us to catch up.” His grin softened his words.

  “How did I advance to the next lesson?” I asked.

  “Look at your moonstone.”

  As if I’d lit a fire inside the stone, sparkles rippled across the surface.

  “Wow. Go, Fleur,” Donovan said.

  “Indeed.” Cloven nodded. “Okay, class. Who wants to go next?”

  Donovan was as quick as me pulling in a thread, though he didn’t store power in his obsidian as far as I could tell.

  As Cloven worked with Patty, I leaned
closer to Donovan.

  “To store power, you’ll need to wet your stone,” I said. Assuming I’d understood what Cloven suggested.

  Donovan’s eyebrows lifted.

  “With blood.”

  “Ah.” His gaze narrowed on his wrist. “I’ll do it later.”

  “I happen to have a dagger you can use if you’d like. I’ve already proven it’s sharp.”

  As his gaze fell to my blade, I swore hunger lit up his face, but I must’ve misread him. What could he long for?

  Donovan pinged my mind. After class today, he said. Do you want to work on your elemental magic some more?

  Yes, I would. Would he almost kiss me again?

  Oh, crap. Think, not mindspeak, Fleur!

  You, uh…want me to kiss you?

  My face overheated. Figures we’d be having what Patty might call a defining moment, in the middle of class. Should I lay it on the line or play coy? Coy felt stupid when I only wanted to be honest with Donovan. And he’d said he wanted to kiss me. Actually, yes. I’d like you to kiss me.

  Not here.

  I snickered. Might draw attention.

  When I kiss you for the first time, I want all your attention on me.

  It would be my…first kiss.

  Then we better make it special. One side of his lips curled up, sending those dragonflies darting through my belly again.

  “We’re going to break for lunch, now,” Cloven said, drawing my attention away from Donovan. “We’ll reconvene at one for an additional lesson, and each of you will have another turn to practice. Remember, no drawing power outside the classroom.”

  Best not to mention how I’d stood near the moat and drawn in multiple threads then released them. Oops.

  We ate lunch—steak, overloaded baked potatoes, and salad—then returned to class.

  Cloven went around the room, working with each of us again.

  This time, I pulled in a scarlet thread.

  Chapter 23

  After we left the classroom, Patty edged sideways in the hall. “I, uh, made plans to meet up with someone. But I don’t want to ditch you for dinner. If you want, I’ll reschedule and we can eat together.”

  “I’ve got plans, too.” Plans that included kissing. My spine tingled already. “Go be with…whoever.” Grinning, I nudged her shoulder. “Anyone I know?”

  “You do, but I’m keeping this one close, for now.” She grabbed my arms and squeezed tight. Squeal came through in her voice. “If I say anything, I’ll jinx it!”

  “Wouldn’t want to do that.” I understood. Every time I met up with Donovan, I worried I’d mess things up permanently.

  “Your plans have anything to do with the hot guy standing over there smiling our way?” She nudged her head toward Donovan, who leaned against the wall outside the classroom across from Cloven’s.

  “Maybe.”

  “You go, girl.”

  “You, too. Talk to you later?”

  “Absolutely.” She hurried toward the parlor.

  Donovan bumped off the wall and approached me. “Want to get sandwiches again or hit the cafeteria for dinner?”

  “Sandwiches, it is.”

  We picked them up at the café nearby and dropped them into my backpack, tucking water bottles underneath.

  “Where to, today?” I asked as we strolled past the mostly empty classrooms. “The roof again?”

  “Too steep for what I have in mind.”

  Wouldn’t want to tumble off the side during my first kiss.

  He directed me through the classroom corridor, and we entered the stairwell we’d used before.

  “You said no roof,” I said.

  “No roof.”

  We climbed and exited on the second floor. A long corridor stretched on either side of us.

  “What’s up here?” A few days ago, he’d said something about storage, but nothing appeared to be stored here at the moment.

  He tipped his head to the left. “In that direction? Teacher’s residences. Overhead, for three-quarters of the circle, you’ll find storage.”

  “And to our right?”

  His eyebrows wiggled. “Follow me and see.”

  I paced beside him. “Mysterious.”

  “Always.”

  We walked through a long generic hall with doors leading who-knew-where on our right and evenly spaced windows on our left looking out at the forest. And ahead, a set of tall, gilded doors. If I gauged the distance correctly, we’d reached the back center of the circle, above the mall.

  Donovan pulled open one of the doors and bowed. “After you.”

  “Oh.” I stopped inside. “It’s beautiful.”

  “This is the ballroom.”

  “Where they’ll hold the Grand Ball at the end of Orientation?”

  “Yup.”

  The room rose two stories, taking up the third level in this section as well as the second. Huge crystal chandeliers hung on long chains from the coffered ceiling covered in gilt. Lots of gold. Paint, I assumed. Highly polished hardwood covered the floor, and portraits of old people hung on the walls. Former professors?

  Ahead of us, the room bowed out and floor-to-ceiling glass highlighted the upper pastures and the forest beyond. Evenly spaced French doors opened out onto a large deck beyond the doors, with an iron rail encircling it.

  “We going to dance?” I joked. “’Cause I’ll be honest. I can’t dance.”

  “I can, and I’ll lead.”

  Turning, I twisted my lips. “You’ll lead if I let you.”

  He dipped his head in concession but his lips quirked up on one side. A draw, then. I could live with that.

  “If we’re not here for dancing, what are we doing here?”

  “I’m going to teach you more elemental magic.”

  Mindspeak had only whetted my appetite. I was eager to learn more. “Out of curiosity, could you explain the difference between the power we pull in for our skapti and elemental magic?” I’d been puzzling it in my mind but couldn’t tell the difference outside of threads.

  “The threads we draw are for deep power and are used only to enhance your skapti. But even if we had no skapti, all of us have innate elemental magic we use for simple tasks like mindspeak or cleaning.”

  “Brownies do the cleaning. You trying to put them out of business?” Beatrice would smack my ankle.

  “Most people can’t afford brownies. The school employs ours.”

  “I thought they worked for cream.” Silly of me to assume, I supposed.

  “Cream and sweets are like bonuses. They work for a living like everyone else.”

  “Okay, so I’ll need to clean my house, especially if I can’t afford a brownie. I can use elemental magic for that?”

  “Even if you could afford a brownie or two, you might need to clean up during the day.”

  “Dustpan and brush?”

  He frowned.

  “Broom? Vacuum?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Oh, to live a life without a vacuum. Ester had not employed a brownie. I rolled my eyes. “Show me what to do, then.”

  He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket and dumped dirt on the pretty floor. “There you go.”

  I waited a moment but nothing happened. “It’s still there.”

  “You’re magicking it away, not me.”

  “You dumped it.”

  “And you want to learn.”

  Valid point. “If magicking it away was simple, I would’ve discovered I could do it already.” Especially while cleaning Ester’s kitchen.

  “Send it away, then,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “Outside. Think about the dirt moving outside.”

  “Is there a magic word? In fantasy books, there’s always a magic word.” I must be missing the final piece to the puzzle and Donovan held it behind his back.

  “No magic word. Think of the dirt lifting off the floor and moving outside.”

  Or into the trash, I supposed.
“What if it drops from the sky? It could fall on someone.” It wasn’t like I could yell, watch out below!

  “That rarely happens.”

  Rarely being the most interesting part of that statement.

  I stared at the dirt and tried to picture it outside. Nothing happened.

  “Keep trying,” he said.

  Again, nothing.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Let’s try something else, something simpler, and we can come back to the dirt.”

  “Damn it, dirt,” I said. “Get outside.”

  Pop. The dirt disappeared.

  I smirked. “See? There are magic words. I’ll need to get a box of donuts or something, or I’m going to piss off our brownie, cleaning things up this easily. She seems to enjoy her job.” And the treats I kept giving her. This was fun, but I’d definitely need to practice some more. “Can you teach me flitting?”

  Something Professor Mealor had mentioned my first day.

  “Transporting yourself from one location to another.” A low whistle came out with his exhale. “You don’t pick easy elemental tasks, do you?”

  “Is it hard to do?”

  “Many can’t master it.”

  “You?”

  “Well…” His cheeks darkened.

  “You can pull more than one thread, can’t you?”

  He nodded.

  I tilted my head. “Any limit to the number you can pull?”

  “Nope.”

  “We’re not normal.” That fact had been solidifying in my mind over the past few days as I got to know my fellow students.

  “I’m normal, but you’re not.”

  “But you just said…”

  He crossed over to the French doors, opened one, and stepped outside.

  Okay. Blinking, I followed and was greeted with a burst of cooler air heralding dusk.

  We leaned against the rail, staring toward the fields and forest.

  “My mom was Elite,” he said, not looking my way.

  “Your dad, too.”

  His breath whistled out of him slowly. “The man who raised me was Elite.”

  I cocked my head in his direction, but he didn’t meet my eye. “Wasn’t he your father?”

  “I’ve said too much.”

  “No, you’ve said too little.”

  “I can’t…” His hair shifted on his collar when he shook his head. “The world thinks he was my father.”