Page 70 of Liminal

“What are you visualising to draw from your well of power?” I ask North, ignoring Lambert.

There are a number of ways for young arcanists to envision their magic. The most common when I was learning was a ball of yarn that one draws from on command, then releases when done, but there are others.

“I learned with the bucket and hose,” Lambert pipes up.

North remains silent. I’ve come to learn that means he doesn’t understand what I’m talking about.

“Northcliff,” I murmur. “Youhavebeen taught how to draw power using the standard visualisations, haven’t you?”

His “no” is almost inaudible, so he clears his throat. “If I just force it hard enough, it works.”

“Can you feel the well of your power?” I don’t offer him sympathy; he doesn’t deserve it, and he doesn’t want it from me. “Try to imagine it’s a ball of yarn inside you.”

“You mean to tell me you crushed us into the ground while thinking about wool?” North asks, shoving his dark hair out of his face.

“It’s a learning device,” I correct. “Once you’re used to drawing power and familiar with the amount you need for different level spells, you won’t need to use it anymore.”

“It’s like building up muscle memory,” Lambert supplies, helpfully.

“Draw a little bit of the yarn through your chest, down your arm, and towards your palm, and then channel it into your Grimoire,” I instruct, cursing Josef silently. “Once the spell is cast, cut the yarn and let it wind itself back up.”

Those golden eyes narrow like he doesn’t believe me, but he has the good sense not to argue.

“You need to keep your intention in mind as well,” I add when nothing immediately happens. “Envision the effect of the spell. Direct it—to begin with, it’s best to look in the direction you’re casting so you don’t get muddled—then you can speak the incantation.”

“What incantation?” he blinks in confusion.

Lambert shoves the book in front of him and taps the cursive at the top of the runeform. “That one.”

“Leaghtir,” he says, drawing out the syllables, then glances up at Lambert to check that he got it right.

So, of course, the Winthrop heir immediately breaks out in fits of giggles.

“Hey!” he gasps between convulsions. “No fair!” Cackle. “Just wait…”

“Ripiel,” I utter the simple nullification spell with a sigh, and Lambert collapses, red-cheeked and still grinning, a second later. “Very good, but use the mirror next time.”

North stares at his friend like he’s trying to come to terms with his arcanist identity all over again, and I roll my eyes, moving away to leave them both to it. Lambert, in turn, looks like he might be plotting his revenge.

“Kyrith,” Galileo says, already several pages into the first book from the cart. “If I could just study one page, justone.”

“Oh shit, dude, is it about the curse?” Lambert’s eyes widen. “Have you tried puppy dog eyes?”

“You know about his ensorcellment?” I can’t help my frown, because it seems like the sort of information that one simply wouldn’t trust Lambert with.

“I mean, yeah?” Lambert shoots a confused glance between us. “Everyone knows about the Ó Rinn family curse. It’s kinda famous.”

It is?My eyes flash to Galileo, brow rising. “Oh, really?”

“Lambert.” Leo shakes his head once.

The blond pouts. “But I know something Kyrith doesn’t know! Do you get how rare that is?”

“Not as rare as you’d think,” I mutter under my breath. “I haven’t left this building in five hundred years. I’ve never even seen a magiball game.”

The shock and horror on Lambert’s face is almost comical, but at least it silences him, leaving Galileo and me to stare each other down in silence. It’s hard to admit when I’ve been outplayed, but I really should congratulate him for it.

Bargaining with information anyone else would already know takes balls. His gesture of trust was a farce. At least I didn’t do something stupid like confess everything.