Page 21 of Muse

“She is,” he answered, and I flushed at the thought of him discussing me with his sister.

“I’m an enchantress,” she told me. “I can see the glow in you.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“What did you need from me, Serena?” Soren asked his sister.

“Oh, right, of course.” She finally looked away from me. “One of the other enchanters had an accident, so you have been moved up. I don’t think there is much time until you are expected to perform.”

"Oh, thank you. I should go then." He was already moving toward the door but looked back at me over his shoulder. "I will set something up with you later on, Izzy."

Chapter 14

Soren lived on a modest yet charming property, nestled in a quiet corner at the edge of Bryonia Park. That made it a quick stroll from my house, and since I frequently took walks there or picnicked with Briar and Wrenley, I had an easy cover. Adora would fight tooth and nail if she knew I was going to an enchanter’s house alone to train with him.

His estate was surrounded by a low stone wall, and the house was two-story with a thatched roof and whitewashed walls. The garden of herbs and flowers that lined the front walkway filled the air with the scents of magik. Around the back was a small stable for Soren's horse and what appeared to be an enchanter's workshop.

Inside, the house was inviting but had minimal decorations besides a few elegant tapestries and simple chairs. The sparseness was likely by design since it was easier to practice with ample room.

It had only been a few days since Soren and I started meeting, but it had gone well so far, with a clear focus on conducting.When I arrived on the third afternoon, he was already moving the chairs to the edge of the room so we could have more space. As usual for these practices, he dressed casually, and the sleeves were rolled up on his forearms, revealing his tattoos.

Starting from his wrists, a series of ancient runes wound up his arms, their elegant curves and sharp edges representing the various spells and incantations he had mastered. Whenever he was enchanting, the tattoos emitted a faint, ethereal light that pulsed with his heartbeat.

“Shall we start where we left off?” Soren asked, dispelling any pleasantries to get right down to it.

"Sounds great," I said, but that wasn't entirely true.

The day before, we had been really exerting ourselves. Or at least I had, and I was still fatigued. Essentially, we practiced until one of us was too tired, and I refused to be the one to say when. I didn’t want to disappoint him or hold back, so I gave my all to the point of straining and exhaustion.

Today, we began as we always did: I stood in the center of the room, totally still, as Soren stalked slowly around me.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded. “I want you to only react to the sound of my voice.”

Soren began his chanting and singing, and my hands moved instinctively as if my body understood his words that my ears didn't. His velvety baritone filled the air and the spaces between.

Several minutes into it, I felt the lightness taking over, and I opened my eyes for a moment. I was floating upward, several feet above the hard floor. My hands were outstretched, tracing intricate designs in the air, the sparkling trails of light mimicking the symbols tattooed on Soren’s body.

Then I squeezed my eyes shut and listened only to Soren's voice. My arms tensed as the muscles cramped, and a painful heat burned deep within me as the practice wore on.

But I didn’t want to give up or disappoint Soren. He believed that I could do this, and so I must.

I grimaced and forced the magik out through me, letting it sear my veins as it moved within me. In the middle of his chants, I faintly heard Soren saying my name, but I couldn't reply because all my focus and energy went to my conduction.

“Izzy,” he said more forcefully, and when I still didn’t respond, he shouted, “Isadore!”

I opened my eyes, and abruptly, I fell from the air. Soren was below me, arms outstretched, and he caught me easily.

“I’m sorry,” I said breathlessly. “I was trying so hard –”

“You were tryingtoohard." Soren set me down on the floor and kept one arm around my waist, holding me steady. "Your skin is flushed, you're perspiring, you're out of breath."

"I'm sorry," I repeated, tears stung my eyes.

"No, Izzy, you misunderstood. I wish you hadn't tried so hard because you were clearly suffering and overloading yourself near the end." His dark eyes were worried, and his voice had gone soft and soothing. "How long were you in pain?"

"I don't know. Not that long," I said, even though I wasn't really sure. Once the burning tipped over to agony, it became hard for me to keep track of time.

"From now on, I need you to tell me when you're in pain," he said. "We're trying to build your stamina and strength, yes, but we don't want to run past your threshold and do serious damage. We need to do this gradually, but don't mistake that for failure on your part. Not many things happen quickly, especially not things that are worthwhile."

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