Page 15

Morgana

B y the time Gallis lets us break for lunch, I’ve managed to kill three more sunflowers. But the proctor seems encouraged, and even I have to admit it’s getting easier to find the inner flames of the plants and take hold of them. It’s what happens after that’s consistently a disaster.

But when I tell Tira as much over our food, she’s dismissive.

“It’s like you expected to get it right on the first try,” she says, waving the bit of chicken stuck to her fork to emphasize how ridiculous I’m being.

“You only started using your magic a couple of months ago, and now you want to be some kind of prodigy at it? Bit big-headed, don’t you think?

” She grins at me, and I smile back, comforted by her teasing.

“Second and third and fourth try didn’t go that much better,” I say.

She shrugs. “Sounds just like a regular learning curve to me. What are you so afraid of?”

The question is whether you’ll try.

Leon’s words still ring in my ears. I know he’d be devastated if I didn’t succeed in this, but I don’t think he’d blame me.

Am I afraid of what will happen if I can’t master this magic?

Or what will happen if I can? Because if I can help Fairon, that means I have to make a choice about giving the man who hurt me so badly everything he wants from me.

And then I’ll be left with nothing.

Right now, I have my anger, and that at least offers me some sense of power.

I might be able to use this arrangement as a bargaining chip, but frankly I’m more focused on the fact that as long as Leon wants something from me, I have the chance to hurt him like he hurt me.

However, if I do the right thing and save Fairon, all of that collapses.

I’ll just be the stupid princess he bedded and bent to his will.

He’ll have used me, and I’ll have let him.

It would all be so much easier if healing is just something I can’t do. I guess that’s what I’m afraid of.

“Bad news.”

I almost flinch as the man in question appears beside our table.

I look up into his face and wish—not for the first time—that it wasn’t so beautiful.

If he looked like a monster, I’m sure I’d find it easier to hate him.

But all the blood he’s spilled and all his misdeeds are hidden behind a sculpted jaw, perfect hair, and a set of bottomless gray eyes.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Alastor’s spoken to pretty much everyone in this place.

The poor man’s nearly lost his voice. But none of them shared the news about you being here with anyone outside the Lyceum.

On top of that, that fae who attacked you—Parvus was his name— arrived a week before us, and he really has been working in the Lyceum archives all this time. ”

“He got here a week before? But we were only crossing the border then,” I say.

“Exactly. At that point, I’d sent a message to Proctor Gallis about our arrival, but she was the only one I told—and Alastor confirmed that at that point, she hadn’t told anyone else.”

“So you’re saying he wasn’t here for Ana, at least not at first,” Tira says.

“Indeed. It seems he saw an opportunity and decided to take it,” Leon replies.

“An opportunity for what? You said it didn’t seem like he was trying to kill you,” Tira turns to me.

I shake my head, as confused as she is. “Someone else was guiding him,” I say, going over again the strange presence I sensed from the fae.

“Some fae have the sensic ability to invite someone into their mind, rather than invade someone else’s,” Leon says.

“Whoever it was, I’d prefer not to run into them or any of their friends again,” I say.

It’s why this news is so unsettling. Maybe the attack was random, just some bad twist of fate, which means we remain safe here.

Yet not knowing who was behind it or why leaves me still feeling exposed and powerless.

I don’t argue when Leon follows me back to the training room, but I’m not ready to talk about Fairon again. He must sense this because he doesn’t ask, which is a relief.

I’m also glad to see the sunflowers are gone when we arrive at the training room, but that relief is short-lived.

“We’ll shift focus for today,” Gallis says.

“Work again on your stamina and precision when it comes to your sun beams. His Highness has been kind enough to offer his help.” She sees my expression, and adds, with a tone that invites no argument, “You’ve already gained experience in fighting an opponent with similar powers.

His Highness will test you in different ways. ”

My stomach flutters with nervousness. Lately, my training sessions with Gallis have been more like combat scenarios, with us dodging and blocking each other’s magic.

It’s been useful, teaching me how to react instinctively with my magic when I don’t have time to think about it in the heat of a fight.

Except sparring with Leon always seems to end up with me feeling humiliated.

But this is what you need—to practice with him, learn his weak spots.

The voice in my head is right. I told Tira that I only needed a week or so until I would be good enough to take on Leon. If I don’t seize this chance now, I clearly don’t believe my own words.

I sigh, but step into the center of the room as Gallis goes to pick up a shield resting against the benches.

It’s a round disk of beaten metal with old Filusian writing carved into it I can’t decipher.

Over time, the fae and humans developed a common language, but thousands of years ago, they had their own dialect and alphabet.

There’s a whole section of old Filusian books I found in the library that I couldn’t decipher at all.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Not to use a lot of technical jargon, but in the profession, we call it a shield,” Leon says.

“Funny,” I shoot back, unimpressed. “What I mean is, why do you have it? We’ve not used one before.”

“It’s been reinforced by our best mages and laced with some protection magic from our relics,” Gallis explains. “It’s so you can push the limits of your sun beams without fear of hurting His Highness.”

I let the familiar heat pool in my fingertips. “I can’t say that’s really a concern of mine,” I reply as I stare Leon down.

“Nevertheless, he cannot directly block your sun beams like I can, so we thought we should take the precaution.”

“To be clear, the proctor thought we should take it,” Leon says, bending his knees slightly as he eyes me. A familiar smirk plays on his lips, and just like before, I can see he’s enjoying this. “I’m happy to take you on unprotected.”

My cheeks heat at the double meaning in his words.

Is he deliberately trying to throw me off?

Or is my brain treacherous enough to distract itself on its own?

I settle into a crouch, allowing the heat in my fingers to develop into a glow.

I look over to Gallis, and she looks like she’s suddenly doubting the good sense of this exercise.

Still, she raises her hand and drops it.

“Begin.”

I release the sun beam before the ground beneath me even begins to rumble. A burning stream of light sears across the room, only to collide with the shield. There’s a clang as the magic strikes against the metal. Sparks fly everywhere, followed by a fizz of dispersing energy.

His face is still hidden behind the raised shield when the earth splits right in front of my feet.

The sudden fissure sends dirt flying upward, spraying into my face and blinding me.

I know Leon’s trying to distract me, so I throw another sun beam in his general direction, just to slow him down.

From the clang that rings out, Leon’s blocked it again.

“Remember, Morgana, use precision,” calls Gallis.

But how can I stay precise in a situation like this, when chasms appear beneath my feet, and it’s all I can do to produce my sun beams fast enough to slow Leon down?

This is how I’ve felt for so long now—like I’m running on ground that keeps falling out from underneath me, without any security or hope of rest.

This time there’s no clang at all as my sun beam goes wide, and I curse.

My frustration means I misjudge where the next crack in the earth is going to appear, catching my foot in the seam as it opens.

I go flying, hitting the ground hard despite the springy moss on its surface.

The air is driven out of me, and a piece of stone shaken loose by Leon’s magic scrapes across my chin.

Something in me snaps, and suddenly this isn’t just a sparring match I happen to be losing. Instead, this is every blow that’s been aimed at me in the last few weeks, all rolled into one moment.

I’m done with people attacking me. Whether it’s lying and manipulating to try to get something from me or assaulting me in broad daylight.

They think they can do what they want to me, and a small part of me—the part that has been told how weak I am my whole life—has accepted it.

I’ve believed that there’s only so much I can do, that this is just the hand life has dealt to me.

But I, too, can destroy the ground beneath someone’s feet.

I aim my next sun beam low, sending it flaring across the ground, straight toward where Leon stands.

He roars as he has to throw himself out of the way, the shot too low to block with his shield. The ground where I lie begins to shake, and I roll away as fast as I can, immediately sending another bolt of magic toward Leon’s feet, forcing him to dance away once more.

The smell of burning moss fills the air, and a wave of triumph rolls through me, watching him run from my magic for a change.

There’s a reason they’re all targeting me. The fae want something from me because I’m powerful. My aunt wants me dead because I’m a threat .

Let’s see just how powerful and threatening I can be.