By the time the carriage arrived at the manor, I could barely keep my eyes open.

  I'd been too exhausted to defend myself when Grandfather berated me for my brief disappearance at the gala, Father standing beside him with that familiar indifference. Once Cassius finished his complaints, I excused myself and left them conversing in the foyer.

  As soon as I turned the corner and knew I was out of sight, I slipped out of my heels. The relief lasted exactly three seconds—until I realized even walking barefoot hurt, thanks to the blisters covering my feet.

  When I opened my door, the room was spotless. Not a single thing out of place, as if Hana, the seamstress, the dozens of creams and potions had never been there. The only trace of their presence was the faint smell of oils and perfume lingering in the air.

  Getting ready had been luxurious—if crowded. Getting out of the dress was an awkward, unglamorous struggle with hooks and pins that I'd learned to handle alone. When I finally could breathe again, I collapsed onto the vanity stool.

  Usually I enjoyed the peace and quiet of my room. That night, though, staring at my tired, bare face in the mirror, I felt lonely. So alone I could disappear and no one would notice.

  No one would care.

  My mind drifted back to the groups of young women at the gala, laughing and chatting among themselves. Were they truly friends? Or were they pretending to, instructed by their families like I was?

  Then my thoughts went further back. My mother's face began surfacing through the fog of memory.

  Not tonight. Please.

  I pressed my palms against my eyes hard enough to see bright spots, trying to force the tears back. Eventually I gave up, dropping my comb onto the vanity with a clatter. I stumbled into bed.

  Despite my exhaustion, I tossed and turned for two hours before remembering the potion I'd managed to sneak from Father's study. I took four drops—two more than recommended—and within minutes, I was unconscious.

  For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, someone knocked at my door.

  I hugged my pillow tighter, burying my face in the silk.

  Please go away.

  The door opened. Faint light from the corridor spilled across the floor.

  I sighed, stretching into a sitting position.

  "I apologize for the intrusion, Lady Alya, but Magister Valdosta will be arriving within the hour. Lord Velmire has requested you be ready by the time he arrives."

  Cilia—a non-magical woman who looked a bit older than me—began drawing the curtains and preparing a simple outfit: pants and a shirt.

  Hana arrived shortly after with a platter of fruit, tea, boiled eggs, and toast.

  "Make sure to eat enough, my lady." Hana's voice was tentative once Cilia had left. "Lord Velmire said you'll be starting your new training today. I'm not sure what that entails, but since you've gotten maybe six hours of sleep, you'll need food to keep up."

  Four. Less than four hours of sleep.

  I sighed.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overstep."

  I studied her. She looked genuinely concerned. I wondered why. I'd never shown her favors. I'd always kept myself cordial but distant, as the lady of the house should.

  "It's... not that, Hana. Don't worry."

  I picked up more toast and egg. She wasn't wrong, after all.

  I descended the stairs forty minutes later, hair in a simple braid, wearing comfortable clothes and shoes. Hana had seen the blisters on my feet and silently applied a green ointment before retrieving a pair of comfortable black boots.

  Enora waited for me in the foyer. As soon as she spotted me, she checked her delicate wristwatch and hurried forward.

  "Lady Alya, please come with me. Magister Valdosta has arrived and is waiting for you in the east wing training hall."

  We walked in silence, but something about Enora's clasped hands and stiffer-than-usual spine told me she was tense.

  I slowed my pace slightly, forcing her to match me.

  "Is there something I should know, Enora?"

  The silver-haired mage didn't answer right away, seemingly weighing her words. When she did, her tone matched her clasped hands.

  "Your new instructor is... well known for his training techniques." She slowed to a stop. I turned to face her. "You've proved you're a capable mage, my lady. Just make sure not to provoke his ire with your words or actions. He's nothing like Magister Tulis."

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  I wanted to ask more questions, but nodded confidently, holding Enora's deep blue eyes. We reached the training grounds and with a nod, she was gone.

  I took a deep breath before pushing the door open. Enora's words had put me on edge, but I was determined to prove to Grandfather I could handle anything he threw at me.

  Magister Valdosta was a towering behemoth of a man, around Father's age. His red and silver hair was pulled back and cut short—bizarre for a mage. I couldn't see his lips beneath the thick greying mustache, but judging by the lines between his bushy eyebrows, they were probably set in a displeased line. Unlike most mages, his skin was marked with deep lines and fine scars.

  I didn't let his appearance—or his reputation—intimidate me. I walked into the room until I stood a few steps from him.

  "Magister Valdosta." I inclined my head respectfully. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance yet. My name is Alya Selenne Velmire."

  He didn't answer right away. Instead, his hazelnut eyes swept over me once—assessing, icy, utterly unimpressed.

  "Spare the courtesies. Your training left holes your grandfather can't ignore." He jerked his chin toward my shoes. "Off. And keep up."

  I didn't like the way he implied Magister Tulis hadn't done a proper job. I'd grown rather fond of the firm yet patient older mage, despite the catastrophic failure of the mission and his total silence afterwards.

  It hadn't been a flaw in my runic training that made the operation fail. It hadn't been my fault to begin with.

  I pulled off my boots, feeling a wave of gratitude toward Hana when my feet touched the cold floor without pain.

  I had to run—undignified and irritating—to keep up with his wide strides. I glared at the back of his head, wondering if I'd get an opportunity to attack him under the guise of training. The thought of sending the colossus flying onto his back tugged at the corners of my lips.

  He didn't stop until we reached the border of the backyard, nearing the woodlands.

  "Your previous training focused on Runic magic—precise, mathematical. That's fine when you have all the time to carve pretty symbols into doorframes." Before I could openly glare at his disrespectful tone, he moved closer to one of the trees, resting his hand on the trunk. The golden crown shifted slightly, as if moved by an unfelt breeze. "But the world doesn't give you time, little lady. When a building collapses—" His eyes stared past me, like he was recalling a memory. "When someone captures you, when you need to act—you need Kinetic magic."

  He raised his other arm, waving his hand in an elegant gesture that didn't quite suit him. Small pebbles rose all around us, following the motion of his fingers.

  I squinted. I'd learned as much during my scholarly years.

  "All magic uses your reserves. Kinetic drains them faster. How long can you maintain active spellwork before you tire?"

  I wasn't sure if the question was rhetorical. I answered anyway, to avoid arousing his ire like Enora had advised.

  "An hour? Maybe two. Depending on complexity."

  Magister Valdosta scoffed.

  "Not with the spellwork I'm about to teach you. You'll manage minutes at most. And if your reserves run dry, your heart stops before you even hit the ground."

  I'd never heard such a thing in the classrooms.

  "There's a technique. Not taught in academies. Not proper." His tone made clear what he thought of propriety. "But effective."

  The tree trunk began making cracking noises. The yellow leaves turned orange, then sickly brown, curling and falling. I held my breath as the trunk darkened. With a final crack, the entire thing collapsed.

  My eyes widened, pupils dilating, fixed on the lifeless tree before me.

  I only snapped out of it when the pebbles started rotating, increasing speed until they resembled a tornado.

  Valdosta looked undisturbed, motionless except for his moving hand. Once it stilled, so did the pebbles. With a dismissive gesture, he let them fall.

  The silence allowed me to gather my thoughts.

  "You killed it."

  "I used it," he corrected. "All living beings hold energy. Life force. It fuels growth, movement, existence. And it can fuel magic. When you deplete your own, you can take it from elsewhere." His expression was unreadable. "If you can stomach it."

  I shivered. We both knew it wasn't from the cold morning air.

  "This is what your grandfather hired me to teach you. If you have moral objections, voice them now and we'll end this arrangement."

  I was fully aware that wasn't an option.

  I stared at the depleted corpse of the tree.

  "Only plants." Barely above a whisper. I turned my attention back to him, staring directly so he'd understand how serious I was. "I won't do that to animals. Or—"

  I couldn't finish. Couldn't say people out loud.

  He understood my silence and scoffed.

  "To take vital energy from a more complex living form—let alone one that can fight back—requires a level of precision and technique that even the most skilled mages fail to reach." His gaze swept over me once more, making clear he thought me incapable. "Luckily for us, that won't be necessary. Plants suffice."

  Taking my silence as acceptance, he turned and walked deeper into the woods.

  I hesitated, glancing at my bare feet.

  With a sigh, I followed.

  The forest grew denser as we walked. My feet stung from cold rocks and branches, but I kept pace. We walked in silence until we reached a small clearing surrounded by thick undergrowth—wild grasses and clusters of bushes.

  Magister Valdosta sighed, sounding more like a grunt. "This will do."

  "Energy depletion works through frequency. Everything living vibrates. Your magic manipulates energy, but taking it requires you to sync with another living thing's frequency, then pull." He gestured for me to stand in the middle. "Feel the energy at your feet. It should feel slower than yours. Steadier. Like a heartbeat."

  I closed my eyes and focused on steadying my breathing. Next, I emptied my mind of everything except the flow of energy beneath my feet.

  Underneath the cold and discomfort, I felt it. Like a heartbeat. Somewhat warm.

  I didn't dare open my mouth for fear of losing focus, so I managed a small nod.

  "Good. That's the easy part. Now, try to adjust your frequency to match it."

  My eyebrows scrunched in concentration.

  I was accustomed to forcing my energy onto objects—exploding lamps, slamming doors—not syncing with them.

  I felt the green blades moving, but no matter how many deep breaths I took or how much sweat dripped down my back, I couldn't attune myself to the grass.

  "No." Valdosta's voice cut through my concentration. My eyes snapped open, my hidden hand fisted. "You don't manipulate the external energy. You manipulate your own. Focus on yourself."

  With a frustrated sigh, I closed my eyes again. I should have worn warmer clothes. My eyebrow twitched. I focused on my breathing once more and reached down to my erratic energy. It was indeed much more chaotic than the grass. I tried pulling at my flowing energy—like pulling at the reins of a wild horse—and doubled over in surprise and sudden nausea.

  "W-what was that?"

  Magister Valdosta looked down at me with an unreadable expression.

  "That, child, was the smallest bit of progress. Now continue until you manage to slow your energy down."

  I pulled myself upright, swallowing against the nausea. My legs trembled but I steadied myself and closed my eyes.

  Slow down. Sync. Don't force.

  I reached for my energy again—that wild, erratic pulse—and tried to calm it. It felt unnatural, like holding my breath underwater. My energy stuttered, fighting against control.

  "Again." Valdosta's voice cut through.

  I tried. Failed. Tried again. Failed again.

  Minutes blurred into an hour. Then two.

  The sun climbed higher, light poking through the leaves, bathing the clearing in comforting warmth. But as time passed and it began its descent, the temperature dropped quickly.

  My bare feet went numb. My fingers stiffened with cold. Sweat dried on my back, leaving me shivering in my thin shirt.

  "I can't—"

  "You can. You're just not trying hard enough."

  My jaw clenched. A headache began building behind my eyes.

  I shut them tighter, begging my magic to bend.

  I pictured the erratic river that was my energy versus the slow dance of the grass. I focused on the river, at first being swept along by it. Then I managed to slow it down—just for a heartbeat—before it snapped back like a released bowstring. The recoil sent a spike of pain through my temples.

  I gasped, pressing my palm to my forehead.

  "Better," Valdosta conceded. "Again."

  "I need—"

  "Again."

  The sun continued its arc. Shadows lengthened across the clearing. My muscles ached, my head pounded, my entire body felt like it was vibrating wrong, out of tune with itself.

  I tried again. And again. I managed to slow my energy for two heartbeats before losing control.

  The snapback made me see bright spots behind my eyelids.

  "Please." I wasn't even sure what I was asking for. Rest. Water. Warmth.

  "You're close. One more time. Hold it for three seconds."

  I wanted to refuse. To storm back to the manor, consequences be damned. But Grandfather's cold disappointment, Father's indifference, the whispers at the gala—all of it kept me rooted.

  The Velmires do not raise disappointments.

  I closed my eyes. Reached for my energy. Pulled.

  One beat.

  Two beats.

  Three—

  My frequency aligned with the grass beneath my feet. For one perfect, terrible moment, I felt it. Truly felt it. The slow, steady pulse of life, entangling with my own in a careful dance. The warmth I'd sensed earlier flooded my toes like thermal water.

  With the last of my will, I pulled.

  The connection shattered.

  I collapsed, gasping for air, hands covering my eyes and forehead.

  Valdosta's gaze wasn't on me. It was on the spot where I'd been standing. The light was scarce, but his sharp vision caught the brown and yellow tips on the blades.

  His eyes traveled to me, panting and curled on the ground.

  "Adequate. That's enough for today."