Shadowguard

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.