Everna wasn't sure if Lisette meant to thank her or punish her.

“Focus on your hands,” Cedric instructed. “Whatever you feel when you touch something magical, try to imagine that feeling in your hands. Then picture what you want to happen.”

If only it were that simple. The feeling calm easily enough; she’d managed it several times already, with moderate success. Focusing long enough for it to come to fruition and create the tiny ball of light Cedric suggested proved far more difficult — and Wil staring at her from across the training room didn’t help matters. Throughout the entire session, she felt his lingering gaze and her mind kept wandering to completely irrelevant things.

If it wasn’t the feeling of his hands on her face disrupting her concentration, it was the feeling of his hand on her waist during the return trip. A few times, the memory of him leaning over her in the same training room a week prior wormed its way to the forefront of her mind. It was maddening and the constant supervision was not helping matters.

After hearing of their disastrous trip to Windhollow, Osain cracked down on security. She couldn’t go anywhere, beyond her bedroom and the washroom, without supervision. Wil refused to leave her be unless Osain had something more important for him to deal with. Between the lot of them nearly being killed by Shroud’s agents and her killing their agent, neither of them was taking any chances. If Shroud hadn’t taken her seriously before, they certainly would after she beheaded one of their Enforcers.

It was pure luck, and she knew it. If she hadn’t had the advantage of surprise and put herself in a position where a direct confrontation was nearly impossible, she’d be dead. If her father hadn’t had her sword enchanted as it was, the fight wouldn’t have ended quickly enough. Wil’s surrender meant to distract the agent long enough for her to escape.

That’s what she was supposed to do — escape, not take his head off.

Two days passed since then and it still hit her stomach hard, though now, she couldn’t quite tell if it was her actions or the startling realization of how close to dying she and Wil were that left her nauseated. She still hadn’t a clue what came over her.

“Everna, you’re not focusing,” Cedric scolded, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

She sighed and flung her hands into the air. “I’m trying!”

“No, you’re lost in your head again,” he countered. “Same place you’ve been since you got here, actually. I get that the real world sucks, but damn.”

“Yes, well, intelligent people think,” she drawled. “Not that you would understand.”

In the last two days, she learned that the twins’ similarities ended with their appearances. Lisette was quiet and reclusive, speaking only when spoken to or when she had something worth saying. Cedric, however, was a walking headache. He fell into the same vein as Vina, except instead of arrogance and contempt, it was tomfoolery or pure snark.

“Smart people don’t throw themselves at a Shroud Enforcer when they can barely hold a sword properly,” he shot back.

“You successfully negotiate your release with a cavernbrute, then come talk to me,” she snapped, jabbing a finger into his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a cavernbrute and you’re not getting out of this room until you make that ball of light, so get to it.” He rolled his eyes, then turned to Wil and asked, “How do you deal with her?”

Wil snorted. “It’s pretty easy if you ignore half of what she says.”

“I’d be doing just fine if someone would curb their staring problem for a few minutes,” she drawled, turning to face Wil. “I’m going actually going to charge you, I swear.”

Wil raised a brow. “You think you’re worth the coin?”

Her eye twitched. “I doubt you even have any to begin with.”

“Save the flirting for later, will you?” Cedric groaned. “I’d like to get this over with as soon as possible so I can get back to harassing Vina about the stupid book she’s trying to write. Speaking of you should read it when you get a chance. It’s so bad it’s actually good.”

“If you think that’s flirting, you’re as delusional as everyone else in this place,” Everna said, rolling her eyes. “No, I don’t want to read Vina’s book. Now shut up. I’m trying to focus.”

Cedric waved her off. “Whatever you say.”

Swallowing back her retort — she absolutely was not flirting with him — she returned her focus to her hands. Just as she had several times already, she allowed the tingling warmth to pool in the palm of her hands. At first it was a whisper of a touch, so slight she might have imagined it, but soon, it grew in intensity. A tiny spark of light, hardly larger than a speck of dust, appeared just above her cupped palms.

That was as far as she’d gotten in her previous attempts. Everna was never good at keeping her mind in one place for too long. She didn’t have the discipline necessary to shut out the wandering thoughts prodding at the edge of her mind or the feeling of Wil staring at her back. She was too perceptive, and that perception seemed to amplify the moment she tried to ignore everything around her.

Suddenly, every shift and shuffle and breath seemed too loud. She was overtly aware of the ache in her rear from sitting on the floor for nearly an hour. She heard the movement upstairs, every footstep and chair leg scrapping against the floor. Wil pulled her sword from the wall, the sound of the blade scraping against the wood grating on her ears.

Closing her eyes, she let out a slow breath.

Sorcery was not as easy as other means of casting, as Cedric explained earlier in the lesson. Mages merely had to remember the incantations, hand gestures, and runic writings that allowed them to tap into the natural magic of the world. Clerics, holy knights, and the few hunters granted some measure of godly grace prayed, and their patron deities granted them their divine magic.

Sorcerers, however, needed focus and visualization. Through their magic, they brought thought into being. While their innate capabilities gave them more control and variation than mages, it required more of them on both a mental and physical level. She had to be absolutely certain of what she wanted while keeping enough concentration to not only create it, but maintain it.

A dull ache erupted behind her temples, followed closely by a sudden rush of exhaustion. Her hand cooled, her magic vanishing. Her shoulders sagged. She dropped one hand to the floor, catching herself as she pitched forward, while the other rose to her temples. Her brow was sweaty.

“You had it,” Cedric said from her right. “For about five seconds.”

“Why is one ball of light so exhausting?”

“You’re not used to it,” Wil said. While she couldn’t see him — her eyes were still screwed shut — she knew by the tone of his voice he’d shrugged. “It’s the same issue you had when you first started sparring with me; you don’t have the proper conditioning to handle more than a quick burst.”

“Magic’s worse, though,” Cedric added. “With the sword, you just exhaust yourself. If you try to use too much magic and your body’s not prepared to handle it, you can kill yourself. Or, at the very least, overexert yourself to the point of passing out for several hours, if not days.”

“And how often does that happen?” she asked. If there was one thing she learned about herself during her first assignment, it was that she was far more reckless than she realized.

“Depends,” Cedric said. “If you’re a completely reckless moron like Wil, probably pretty often. Given what you did in Windhollow, I’d have to say you’re probably in the same realm of stupidity.”

She cracked an eye open but snapped it shut immediately after. Dim as the training room was when compared to the rest of the safe house, it was still too bright. The torchlight only intensified the throbbing behind her skull.

“None of you are going to let that go, are you?” she grumbled. The only one who hadn’t had something to say about it was Osain — the one person she expected to tear into her when he found out. He’d merely smiled as if he was aware of something she wasn’t.

“Considering that it defeats the purpose of going through the effort to keep you alive, no. No, we are not,” Cedric chided.

She released a heavy sigh. What was she supposed to do? Sit there and let Shroud kill Wil, then run off with her? Wouldn’t that also defeat the purpose of trying to keep her alive? Wil said she should’ve run, but if she had, Shroud would’ve followed. If they caught her, she would’ve been well and truly defenseless. She was damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.

If nothing else, Windhollow had taught her one thing; she didn’t know herself as well as she thought she did. If someone told her that in a matter of a month she’d go from tending the bar at her parents’ tavern to bartering with monstrous creatures and beheading agents of a vile and evil organization, she’d never believe it. She still couldn’t believe it.

It took several minutes for the headache to wane, though the fatigue remained. This time, when she opened her eyes, the light wasn’t as blinding. It still hurt. The torches were a bit too bright, but it was manageable.

“Not only that,” Cedric added, “you have an alarming habit of getting yourself knocked out.”

“That’s a recent issue, I can assure you,” she argued, though he wasn’t wrong. She spent more time incapacitated than not these days; if she wasn’t drugged or dazed, magically or otherwise, exhaustion put her out.

The situation had gotten so out of hand so quickly; she wasn’t even sure what to do anymore. Was she still supposed to be pursuing answers, as per her agreement with the courts, or was she supposed to sit back and allow Shadowguard to handle the matter? Was there even a point anymore?

The door to the training room opened, and Lisette poked her head inside. “Hate to interrupt the fun, but someone’s here to see Everna.”

“Who?” Wil asked before she could question Lisette herself.

“Sir Swiftbrook’s replacement, supposedly,” Lisette said, peering back into the hall with her eyes narrowed. “Claims he’s a High Knight, though he’s dressed like your average stable boy. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, threatened to run me and Vina through if we didn’t let him in the door.”

Cedric frowned, his brow creased. “And you let him in anyway?”

“If you think you can make him leave, be my guest,” Lisette huffed. “He doesn’t look like a High Knight, but he still looks like he could easily make good on his promise if he wanted to.”

Everna pursed her lips. “Did you get his name, by chance?”

“Corden Shadefell.”

Everna was on her feet in seconds, her exhaustion forgotten. She barreled past Lisette, nearly slamming her into the door frame, and shot up the stairs two at a time. The moment she stepped into the taproom, her heart swelled with relief. Her brother towered over Vina, his face set into grim irritation.

He was built like their father, standing several inches over six feet tall, but where age had begun to chip away at their father’s bulk, Corden was just reaching his prime. He’d grown since she last saw him, his shirt, which once fit properly, tight against his frame, the buttons straining.

Vina had audacity, if nothing else. While she was tall by most standards (though, nowhere near as tall as Leah, who was at least six feet in her own right), Corden completely dwarfed her. Still, she held her ground, shoulders squared with haughty arrogance. Everna would be impressed if that courage came from anywhere but an over inflated ideal of self-importance.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Vina snapped, her hands on her hips, “but you absolutely cannot come in here making demands as if you own the place. You can stuff your attitude and cart yourself back to whatever gutter you crawled out, preferably before you infest us all with whatever diseases you lowborn commoners carry. It’s bad enough we have that loose whore you came looking for-”

“The next time you talk about my sister like that, you’ll be picking your teeth up off the floor,” Corden snapped.

Many assumed that she and Corden were exact images of their respective parents, from their appearance to their personality, but the distribution of traits wasn’t as linear as it seemed.

Everna might have her mother’s build and intelligence, but she inherited their father’s breezy calm; she wasn’t easily bothered. She had her moments where her temper got the better of her, but most things rolled off her like water on a duck’s back.

Corden might have their father’s stature, but in temperament, he was undeniably Evelina’s son, only with a touch more restraint. That fiery nature, coupled with his inherent protectiveness, often led to similar scenes. He didn’t care who it was, whether it was some snot-nosed brat or the heads of the Three Houses, man or woman; if someone — other than himself, of course — dared insult his baby sister, they’d find themselves on the receiving end of his ire long before they finished.

Vina was lucky Corden wasn’t their mother; she would’ve slapped the daylights out of her the second she opened her mouth.

“Sister?” Vina asked, confused.

“Sister,” Everna confirmed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Vina, this is my older brother, Sir Corden Shadefell, High Knight of Inverness, and, as I’ve just heard, the new head of Pendel’s Guard post. Corden,” she said, pointing to Vina, “A spoiled brat, but I’m sure you’ve realized that already.”

Her brother turned to her, his irritation giving way to wariness. “I wish I could say I’m glad to see you, but considering the circumstances, I’d rather I wasn’t here at all.”

Dread pitted in her stomach. “Who died this time?”

“No one, yet,” Corden sighed. He pursed his lips and shifted on his feet — a nervous tick of his. Whatever he had to say, she wouldn’t like it. “Shroud tried to kill Pala and Mom last night.”

Magic

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