Page 49 of Malcroix Bones Academy

I frowned, thinking.

“Not in a way that made sense,” I admitted. “She went into a kind of trance, started speaking in tongues… then waxed on about ‘god-suns’ and ‘binary stars’ and something to do with black holes. When she came out of it, all she’d say is that I already had what I needed, if only I knew how to look.” I scoffed, remembering my extreme annoyance at the time. “Bloody useless, really.”

“Bloody useless, indeed,” Draken agreed good-naturedly.

Miranda laughed.

I looked between them and smiled. “Any insight from any one of you would be very welcome,” I added. “I plan to ask Professor Forsooth, of course, and take advantage of what I’ve been assured is the best occult library in Europe.”

Luc continued to stare at me, his gaze narrowed to a pinprick focus. “I don’t see any residuals,” he said. “It’s odd. Your magic is really clean. Really,reallyclean.”

He trailed, brow furrowed.

“Clean?” I blinked. “What does that mean?”

Luc’s irises seemed to click back into focus. His blue eyes met mine.

“When children are first developing their magic,” he explained. “They tend to have pretty muddy, messy, and chaotic magical auras, Leda. Everyone’s like that in the beginning: just a mess of out-of-control, unstructured, magical power. When we start to develop a relationship to our own primals, we transition to a phase where we get what are calledresiduals… ghost-like echoes of the various beings we’re connecting to, as we attempt to use our magic and connect with whatever will let us.”

Luc took a sip of his cappuccino, and continued in that serious voice.

“Sometimes a specific residual will stick, and become a Magical’s actual primal. Oftentimes, it won’t. Usually there’s a period where we just have a lot of fuzzy impressions going in and out of our magical auras… unless we’re extremely lucky and find a primal early.”

I nodded with more understanding, even excitement.

I knew what he was talking about.

I remembered seeing that exact phenomenon in the gymnasium where I took my first magical test. A number of kids had those “residuals” in their auras, multiple creatures that swam in and out of their magic without fully solidifying.

I rubbed that lava-like burning in the center of my chest, and nodded.

“I’ve seen that… those residuals,” I said. “What do you think it means, that Idon’thave residuals? Does it mean I’m further away from having my own primal?”

“Well, no.” Luc’s lips pursed in puzzlement as he went back to scrutinizing me. “That’s the odd thing, really. Your magiclookslike you have a primal. I’ve never seen magic like yours thatdoesn’thave a primal.”

My brow furrowed all over again.

“Go on,” I prompted.

Luc motioned towards my face. “Your magic, it’s quite beautiful, really. It’s clear, yet obviously structured… which is another way of saying it looksfunctional,as well as clean. I’m not surprised you can perform magic. Itlookslike you can perform magic. Only…” He motioned around me vaguely, yet gracefully, a second time. “…No primal. You see?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Draken laughed. It was a deep, warm laugh.

Luc glanced at him and smiled, then returned his attention to me.

“Yeah. Okay. Fair enough.” A thoughtful look returned to his blue eyes. “I can’t honestly say that I understand it, either, Leda. But it’s interesting. I imagine Forsooth will find you quite the puzzle. Nothing like the usual sprawl of astrals and familials.”

“Familials?” I pounced, enthusiastic again. “I’ve seen that referenced in a few places. But what does it mean, exactly, when a primal is called?”

The bell tinkled melodiously over the door, interrupting my train of thought.

I turned in time to see it swing roughly open.

A tall mage strode in, wearing dark green trousers made of what looked like some kind of animal skin. Below them, he wore black boots, and above, a white shirt with a collar that buckled over the base of his throat. A tailored coat with strange layers in the fabric covered his shoulders and back. Despite how expensive and formal and obviously new the clothes looked, they looked old-fashioned to my eyes.

He walked like he was in a hurry, or possibly in a foul mood. He didn’t slow his strides until he stood right in front of the counter and stared into the barista’s face.