Page 90 of Court of Lies and Deceit

I keep it there in my mind’s eye, the small flame burning steadily, while I brace myself. Then I start moving it towards Jocasta’s chest.

My magic immediately balks.

That warm and sparkly yellow flame is snuffed out in a flash, as if someone slapped a gigantic hand down over it.

A snarl of frustration comes from deep within my throat.

Forcing out a calming breath, I try again.

I visualize a burning flame of warm yellow joy. Every muscle in my body tenses as I start moving it towards Jocasta again. It recoils violently, as if hitting an invisible wall, and then disappears in a flash again.

“It doesn’t work!” I snap, frustration crackling through me like lightning. “As soon as I try to move it, it disappears. Every. Fucking. Time.”

Jocasta opens her mouth to no doubt scold me again but then stops. A considering look blows across her face.

Outside the windows, the golden afternoon sunlight hits the rooftops. It makes the red tiles look like they have been dipped in gold. People stroll up and down the rows of stalls down there in the market square, their voices a soft murmur that drifts in through the open window. A warm breeze slips in, washing over my heated cheeks. I wipe a bead of sweat from my neck.

“Maybe we’re going about this wrong,” Jocasta finally says. Her pink and gold eyes have turned pensive as she studies me.“I see my magic as a shifting ball of water, so I justplace itin people’s chests. But you see it as a flame.” She taps her chin in consideration for a few seconds and then cocks her head. “What if, instead of moving the flame to my chest, you tried to simply light that flame in my chest straight away. So you don’t have to move it.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise, and a burst of hope flickers in my soul. Maybe I’m not a useless failure after all. Maybe we have just been using the wrong method.

Blowing out a breath, I straighten my spine and call up my magic again. Then I try to make a flame of joy spark to life straight in Jocasta’s chest.

It doesn’t work.

I grind my teeth.

Concentrating hard, I try to force that warm yellow flame into existence. My magic doesn’t stir. Doesn’t move at all. It just sits there inside me, waiting for me to do something with it. I flex my hand and try to light a flame in Jocasta’s chest again, but I can’t even see it in my mind’s eye when I try that. And my magic just keeps flowing inside me, waiting for me to use it.

“Mabona’s fucking tits,” I growl under my breath, and release the grip on my magic.

Jocasta sighs and arches an eyebrow. “Doesn’t work?”

“No. It’s even worse than when I try to move it. Nothing happens at all when I try it this way.”

She nods, looking more resigned than angry at the news. “Then I was right from the beginning. You need to do it the proper way and move it from the magic inside you to someone else. I’m not surprised. It’s how our magic always works. It always starts inside ourselves.”

“Then I really am a useless failure after all.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. Embarrassed, I run a hand over my face and turn away. Walkingover to the windowsill, I sit down and try to get my head back on straight.

Across the room, my friends are still sparring. Fire and ice rush through the air, met by storm winds and lightning across the sand. Weapons wielded with perfect precision gleam in the golden afternoon light. Perfect magic. Perfect sword skills. And then there is me.

Raking both hands through my hair, I tilt my head back and stare up at the pale stone ceiling above to hide the tears that suddenly press against my eyes.

I hate feeling like this. I hate failing. I don’t want to be the weak link. I don’t want to be a burden. I want to show the whole world that they were wrong about me. That they should have trusted me. That I can be an asset.

“Look, kid,” Jocasta says, her voice now much softer than before. A thin trail of stone dust trickles down from the windowsill as she sits down next to me. “In all honesty, you’re actually pretty good.”

I scoff in disbelief.

She gives me a mock glare. “Hey, don’t scoff at your elders.”

“Elders,” I echo with a chuckle while shaking my head. Turning my head slightly, I peer at her. “How old are you even?”

“Six hundred and forty-three.”

My eyes widen. “Seriously?”

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