Page 66 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood

The first group up for training features a mix soldiers, dragonriders, guards, and maids. We decided to start with the ones in leadership positions because, as we learned last time, if the officers flee, the rest will fall to panic and chaos. The drachen didn’t even need to affect the lower ranks once the upper ranks collapsed.

I’m standing at the helm of an odd assembly of stern-faced soldiers and wary maids, like we’re about to engage in some kind of bizarre dance rather than a magic drill.

The maids directly under Rhiann’s command are present, too, their eyes wide and flickering between us and the door, as if they might bolt at any moment. I can’t blame them. They should never be required to fight, but we also cannot allow them to give in to their fright.

The drachen could invade again at any time, so the staff, at the very least, must be prepared to withstand a fear attack.

To be fair, the officers aren’t any more excited than the palace staff. Skepticism shows in their stiff postures, as well as their periodic snorts and head shakes. And underneath everything lurks the common element of terror.

Sterling and Alannah masterminded the groupings and setup. While it might have made more sense to practice outside, Alannah is the only one who can teach us. Today, she didn’t feel strong enough to venture to the training fields.

As much as I wish Sterling were here, he has royal matters requiring his attention and is tucked away in his chambers with the royal council. I gaze around the room at all the disgruntled faces and decide that he lucked out.

“Picture the barrier in front of you, protecting you from the world.” Alannah’s delicate voice breaks through the tension, firm but not unkind. “So strong and dense that nothing can get through it. Not a thought or emotion.”

Agnar stands beside her, his piercing blue eyes scanning the ranks for any sign of disobedience or mockery, but mostly the attendees exhibit restlessness and impatience. The session started a while ago, with little to show in the way of progress. The will is there, but trying to build mental shields feels different than wielding our usual magic. The learning curve is steep, and it doesn’t help that no one wants to make a fool of themselves in front of an audience.

“Focus.” Agnar’s orders resonate with an authority that comes second nature to him after taking over for Sterling as captain. “Lindon, no. Remember, don’t use your hands to push your magic outward. You need to draw it inward instead.”

I bite my lower lip and stare at my boots to suppress a laugh. Nothing about the training is inherently funny, but I swear I’ve heard Agnar repeat the same information in about twenty different ways. And with every attempt, you can bet money on at least a third of the room raising their hands and conjuring their elemental magic. Because of that, at least three people are currently dripping water onto the marble floor. Another handful appear as if they were caught in a cyclone, and we had to clear the area of vines and stray rocks twice already.

Agnar even had to break up a fight when two soldiers got a little overzealous in their attempts and almost came to blows.

Not that I have a leg to stand on. So far, all of my efforts have proven to be a spectacular failure.

“Remember,” Alannah coaches, “this is about finesse, not strength. You must construct the barrier with your imagination first and then use your power to make it real.”

I try. Gods, do I try. I close my eyes, envisioning a shield, a wall, a godsdamned door. Anything that could stop an invasion of unwanted external emotions.

The familiar heat of fire licks along my fingers, eager to burst free of its restraints. I rein my magic back in and imagine the flames transforming into cool, impenetrable stone.

An officer’s magic slips his control. Water shoots, but before it can splash onto the floor, a maid steps forward with raised hands and, gentle as a whisper, traps it on a wind current.

The officer mumbles athank youand reclaims his element with a frustrated sigh.

“Keep at it.” Alannah’s voice is a calm anchor in the sea of nervous energy. “Again.”

We continue with our awkward orchestra of elemental magic and silent prayers, each of us battling our own instincts in an effort to let this strange concept bloom into a new ability. The entire exercise feels weird, as if we’re attempting to thwart nature.

Out of all of us, I might be the only one who took a daily magic dampener to suppress their power or was raised to fear my magic and taught to always keep it under firm control.

Of course, that was a lesson that failed to stick.

“Control isn’t just about strength.” Blair paces the opposite side of the room from Agnar. Beneath the crystal chandelier, his sandy brown hair takes on a golden glow, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. “It’s about holding steady. We’ve all trained with weapons, spears, arrows, and the like. This is a different sort of weapon…one we don’t use to hurt the enemy but instead use to prevent the enemy from hurting us.”

A mini tornado forms in front of his chest, then slowly recedes into his body. His eyes widen.

From his expression, I can tell he almost had it.

But air is so much easier to hold in place. It just sits there doing nothing when you’re not using it.

Fire doesn’t like to be contained. It’s never still. Even the tiniest flicker of a candle’s flame is in constant motion.

Fingers trembling, I focus inward, gathering the tendrils of my power. It’s like coaxing flames to embers, something I’ve only recently learned how to do. A barrier of fire roars to life, pulsing with my heartbeat.

Too vivid. Too wild.

Ziva help me.

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