Page 24 of Mistake of Magic
“Convenient.” Leralynn’s chocolate eyes touched River’s, sending a jolt of heat through him without even trying. “Can you set such wards anywhere?”
“Me? No.” River squinted at the stone, inlaid with intricate runes. “Like many of the Citadel’s wards—including the runes on your neck—these are much older and more powerful than we can create today. But if you are asking about wards in general, it is a studied art. Craftsmanship. Autumn is quite skilled, but I’ve never had the knack or the training for it.” River trailed off, his gaze on Leralynn as a new worry bubbled inside his chest. She was small and perfect. And fragile and precious. Whereas the training... After the initial excitement wore off, it would be no less grueling than Coal’s adventures with a blade.
There wasn’t a choice on that score, not anymore, not with the damn runes tattooed right over her pulsing artery. The Citadel’s magic had no back door, no escape route from the training grounds, bar the trials. Leralynn had to learn or die. And River would never let the latter happen, no matter how much she might come to hate him in the process.
They hadn’t even started and he was already fretting. Bloody brilliant. River spread his shoulders, opening his mouth to issue his initial instructions—
“About Shade,” Lera said.
River’s mouth snapped shut.
“I realize you are angry. Can we—”
“We are not here to discuss Shade.” River’s hard words echoed from the circular walls.
Leralynn flinched—but didn’t back down one bloody millimeter. “Right, let’s pretend nothing happened. Good thinking.”
“We are here to harness your magic so that you can stay alive, not discuss your bedmate choices,” River snapped with more force than he’d intended. He stepped away toward the other side of the arena. It was bad enough that he had to smell Shade’s scent all over her and deal with a feral wolf this afternoon. He didn’t need the girl dragging Shade into their private training session too.
“Yes, about that magic...” Leralynn wrapped her arms around herself, her tunic’s open neckline sliding sideways to reveal the top of a delicate shoulder and supple skin. “We’ve a small problem there. Namely that I no longer have it.”
“What?” River blinked. “Of course you have magic. I saw you use it. It no more appears and disappears than an arm does.”
“Disappearing arms or not, I still don’t feel it, River. Not like I did in the arena yesterday. I promise you, I’ve looked. There is nothing there.”
“Look again.”
Leralynn closed her eyes, the small movements beneath her lids suggesting that she was indeed looking. As if her magic was a toy someone had hidden from her in the darkness.
River waited. Seconds. Minutes. More than enough time for even a child to locate her own power—provided said child was paying attention. “I want you to focus on the well of power inside you,” River said finally. “Let it nip you. Embrace its presence. Then tap it gently.”
Leralynn opened her eyes, quirking one brow.
Making a quick motion with his hand, River parted the arena’s sand to draw a line down the middle. “Your magic has an earth-based affinity, same as mine,” River continued, his voice level. Even as he spoke, he quietly spiraled down into his own well of magic and readied himself to parry the inevitable disaster. Novices were prone to explosions, no matter how many times one told them to go easy. “Your task is to push a few grains of sand across the line. Precision, not strength.” River readied his shield and braced himself. “Start now.”
Leralynn closed her eyes again.
Silence rang through the arena.
“I said start,” River pressed.
The girl’s eyes finally popped open, brimming with frustration. “There is nothing to tap, no matter how much you wish it were otherwise.”
River’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t about what I wish. This is about your body. Twenty-five pushups, then try again.”
Leralynn let out a puff of air but lowered obediently to the sand. Her gorgeous body, its curves plain despite the oversized tunic, rose and fell to River’s count. A shudder ran through him when she finished, sitting back on her knees in a way that gave him too good a view of the tops of her breasts.Stars.He forced his eyes away. If he wanted that body of hers to survive the trials, he needed to concentrate. He needed for them both to concentrate. “Get up,” he said, jerking his chin toward her. “Feet shoulder-width apart, breathing steady, picture the magic inside you rumbling in its well. Tap the well, Leralynn. Grab hold of one strand.”
Leralynn’s furrowed brow provided little encouragement. The fact that nothing happened provided even less.
“Twenty-five pushups,” River said, when Leralynn’s eyes opened again with nothing but wasted time to show for the effort.
Another quarter hour of trying. Another set of pushups. Another cycle of growing frustration.
“I don’t have magic,” Leralynn growled finally, refusing—actually refusing—to follow his latest order.
“We are not debating reality.”
The girl frowned. “You not wishing to debate the existence of my magic doesn’t actually change the fact that it’s not there.”
