Page 19 of Charmed

Wizard Alden didn’t even spare me a glance as he yanked several books from the shelf and tossed them haphazardly into his trunk, which had yet to become full, enchanted to hold any number of objects, a mystery that, like many others, I’d have to wait until his return in order to understand.

Though I found his silence frustrating, it didn’t discourage me from trying another tactic. “Should you earn this prestigious position as you hope, how will it affect my apprenticeship?”

“It’ll put me in a better position to tutor you.” He plucked several potions from a shelf and turned to pack the vials…only to nearly careen into his spellbook hovering precariously close to the trunk, as if it meant to slip inside when he wasn’t looking. “For the last time, I can’t bring you with me. Competitions are meant to be done on one’s own without any outside assistance, especially from a familiar.”

The spellbook’s entire manner drooped in response and the prince’s annoyance softened. He gave it an apologetic pat.

“If I ever have need of you, I’ll be sure to summon you.” He gently tickled its spine but the caress did little to cheer up the temperamental object. Though he appeared regretful, Wizard Alden remained unyielding as he resumed his packing.

“Can you truly earn such a position with your being a prince?” I asked.

He stiffened. “I can do both at the same time.” But he didn’t sound certain.

That seemed doubtful, especially when a position as prestigious as a magical counsel seemed time consuming enough to distract from his royal duties. “Do Their Majesties approve?”

His resulting scowl told me they clearly didn’t, which meant he was gallivanting off on this adventure without their knowledge. Though my common background left me with little experience in political matters, I had enough sense to know that this decision was a very poor one on his part.

“Doesn’t your position as a prince come before being a wizard?”

It was the wrong thing to say. He snapped his trunk lid shut and spun around to give me a rare glare. “Neither my position nor the life I choose to lead is up to you to decide, Maeve.”

His words returned me to my proper place. I flinched and lowered my eyes. His heavy sigh was followed by approaching footsteps. He cupped my chin to gently lift my gaze, a gesture that left my skin strangely tingly from his touch, as if the magic we both possessed reacted at our contact.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You only spoke the truth,” I murmured. “Your choices are none of my business.”

“They are when they affect you.” He dropped his touch, leaving me strangely yearning for it again. “I regret that this will interfere with your apprenticeship. Though I’ll be busy, it’ll never be too much to answer your questions, so send as many messages as you need.”

“My skills are too amateurish to guarantee they’ll reach you.”

He considered the matter before withdrawing some parchment from his desk and resting his hand on top as he spoke a phrase in the enchanted language I never grew tired of hearing; the entire stack glowed before the light faded as the charm completed.

“My enchantment will guarantee that any message written on this parchment will find me. If you need any further assistance, my spellbook will be pleased to help.”

By the spellbook’s aggravated rustle, this was an arrangement it clearly didn’t approve of any more than I did. But Wizard Alden didn’t seem to care as he waved his hand to shrink his trunk…but the spell had the opposite effect, causing the trunk to grow larger. He muttered a curse.

I frowned. “Do you truly possess the skills necessary to earn such a prominent magical position?”

Grumpiness once more overcame him at my words. “Of course I do.”

He panted heavily as he cradled his magic and struggled to force his trunk to a small enough size for him to pocket, muttering the incantation through gritted teeth. Tucking the exasperating object safely into his robe, he nodded to himself before facing me with a much calmer expression.

“Every skilled wizard has a few…hiccupsthey must overcome. Admittedly, I wish I had more time to iron out my own wrinkles, but even though I’m not as prepared as I’d like to be, I’m not going to waste an opportunity that only comes once every decade or so. I’ll give it my best effort with the abilities I currently possess.”

With a flicker of magic he summoned his cloak, secured it around his shoulders, and with a parting wave he was gone. I stared after him, feeling his absence more acutely than I expected. Even though we didn’t interact often, I’d still found his presence comforting, especially knowing I could turn to him whenever I needed him.

I settled at my workbench to stare morosely at my cauldron where my failed tonic still bubbled gently, while the spellbook moped nearby in the place Alden had vanished. Wizard Alden hadn’t been able to finish figuring out what had gone wrong with it before he’d left, leaving me no guidance on how to proceed save for the thick volume on magical theory resting beside my mortar and pestle.

With a heavy sigh I opened it and scanned the table of contents for the chapters on the two potential issues the wizard hypothesized: either the problem was due to the order I’d added my ingredients or it lay with the manner in which I’d done so. I selected the chapter on ingredient preparation first before propping the book up and emptying the cauldron’s contents in order to start over again, this time alone.

* * *

Two unproductive andrather lonely days passed before there was any variation to my routine, time in which I made little to no progress on my tonic. I tried not to panic—after all, Corbin had been doing well during last weekend’s visit—but I couldn’t entirely dismiss the sudden urgency I felt to prepare it, as if some outside force guided my hand, instinct my powers possessed rather than my consciousness.

But no matter how diligently I studied, I could never properly create my brew—either the color was wrong, or the consistency, and once even the temperature.

With an aggravated sigh I drained my most recent failure—this one a dismal brown—and glared at the workbench Wizard Alden normally occupied, hoping he could feel the force of my ire even across our vast distance.

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