She just shrugs, picking at the blanket on top of her. “It doesn’t matter.”
I force myself back down onto the seat, gently pushing on her chin so she’s facing me again. “You might as well tell me. Doran and some of the other combat trainees already confirmed it. I know they pushed you past your abilities. To the point of burnout. That’s not ‘just training,’ Eira. That’s dangerous. And I will not fucking stand for it.”
Her face flushes with shame and embarrassment, and she pushes my hand away from her face. “I’m sorry. That I…didn’t do better. Maybe you need to reassess who you want as your disciple.”
“No,” I say firmly, catching her hand again and holding it tight. “Don’t let this make you doubt yourself. And don’t doubt my faith in you. You’re exactly who I want by my side protecting the people. There’s no one else.”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and for a moment, I think she might break down. But she doesn’t. Instead, she squeezes my hand, her grip firm, and nods.
“Good, now get some sleep. I’m sick of your questions already,” I gently tease her.
She grins, but then closes her eyes, and I wonder who it is she dreams of when she sleeps.
The glass doorto the training grounds opens with so much force that it shatters into a thousand pieces. Every single eye on the field snaps toward me, but all I see is Master Kaelen, a smirk on his face as he talks to one of his junior mentors. Like he didn’t push Eirabella to the brink of burnout. My hands are already twitching with magic, the water curling at my feet, ready to be unleashed.
I don’t stop walking until I’m close enough to hear his breath catch, pupils. His face pales, pupils widening as he sees the fury in my eyes. He’s not prepared for this—he’s not prepared for me.
Before he can open his mouth, I thrust my hand forward, and a wave of water explodes out of thin air, hitting him square in the chest. He’s thrown backward, crashing onto the ground. The torrent of water that surrounds him swallows his gasp, pushing, pressing down on him. He flails, trying to summon his own magic—trying to push me back with what little control over water he has—but it’s useless. He’s struggling, drowning under the weight of my strength.
“Do you like how that feels?” I snarl, stepping closer as the water tightens around him, cutting off his breath. His eyes are wide with panic now, his hands clawing at the water, but I don’t let up. “Do you like being overpowered? Pushed to the point of breaking? Is that the lesson you were trying to teach my disciple?”
He gasps, his hands trembling, but he tries again to push back. I feel a weak pulse of water magic against mine. I press harder, the water swirling tighter around his chest, dragging him over the ground. “Just think, I’m playing nice right now.Can you imagine what will happen if I lose control?” The cold in my voice only drops the ambient temperature to mere degrees above freezing.
Master Kaelen thrashes, arms and legs, each in a different direction, trying to gain some control of the churning water around him, and finally gathers enough strength to summon a weak barrier, his own water surging up around him, trying to fight mine. For a moment, the field fills with the sound of waves clashing against each other in an angry storm of whitewash, but it’s no contest. His magic is weak—pathetic compared to mine.
His barrier shatters as soon as it meets the force of my attack, the water crashing down on him like a tidal wave. He stumbles again, choking on the water washing over his head, and I raise my hand again, lifting him thirty feet off the ground. His legs flail in the air as the tunnel of water curls tighter, constricting around him like a vice. His hands claw at the air, his magic fizzling out in weak spurts as he tries, desperately, to push me back. It’s like watching a child fight a storm. He has nothing left, and he knows it. Suddenly the water disappears from under him and he plummets to the ground, only to be cushioned from the fall with a splash into the small pond I’ve created under him.
The pond slides out from under him and freezes into a disc that pushes down on top of him, and he strains with the effort of holding it up, stopping it from crushing him to dust.
The way he is struggling, stuttering, to breathe, curls around me in a deliciously dark and twisted satisfying thrill.
“Is this what you wanted to teach her?” I shout, stepping closer. “To be pushed so far she couldn’t stand? To have magic used against her until she broke?”
He struggles to speak, gasping for breath as the disc pushes down on him harder and harder. His eyes are wide with panic,his face turning red, but I don’t relent. Not yet. I want him to feel this. I want him to know what it’s like to be helpless.
In the background, I hear Mathis shout my name. Apparently, someone thought they needed to get Captain Corvane to come save the weapons master. Not even my best friend can save him now.
Kaelen’s fingers twitch, one last attempt at a counterattack, and a weak stream of water that barely makes it past his fingertips. I barely notice it. With a flick of my wrist, the disc dissipates into another wave that crashes over him in a million tiny ice shards, some embedding in his skin like splinters.
He whimpers. What a coward of the absolute lowest degree.
“You aredoneteaching here,” I say, my voice harsh and unforgiving. “YOu don’t deserve to teach Aetherhold’s disciples. And I better not see you anywhere near my disciple again. Or else next time, I’m going to forget any gratitude that I owe you as my former mentor, and remind you of exactly how good a disciple I was.”
He coughs out a mouthful of water, trembling on the ground, but I don’t bother looking at him again. He’s nothing now.
“And you,” I say, turning to Mistress Manoram, who’s standing frozen, her face pale. Selene stands silent beside her, too shocked to move. “I suggest you start teaching your disciple how to win without cheating. The king has dungeons that don’t allow magic, don’t forget. I’d hate to see you two wasting away down there for not following the rules.”
Without waiting for a response, I storm out of the room, my magic still pulsing through my veins. I’m furious. But more than that, I’m scared. Eirabella was too close to breaking today. No one will get close to hurting her. And I know just how to guarantee that no one ever will again.
TWENTY-FOUR
Eirabella
“I’m telling you,it’s the Festival of Shadows!” Caelum practically shouts, as if repeating himself will make him right. “The riddle says, ‘Where light meets darkness, and balance is found.’ That’s the festival in a nutshell.”
I wave a dismissive hand at his words. “Caelum, for someone who had the education you did, you’re not very good at riddles.”
He sits up, his expression exaggeratedly offended. “Excuse me? I’m the Duke of Thornehaven, thank you very much, and my interpretation of this riddle is flawless.”
