like competing with a ghost, some rare creature others spoke of but had yet to be sighted. Based on her rare glimpses of Sire, she’d often imagined Jack’s face to be all cruel edges or wrinkled with age, too. A stranger’s face. A monster’s.
She had waited so many years to punch it—had slipped on all her sharpest rings just for the occasion on the night Sire had finally passed away. She’d felt no grief for the stranger who’d taken her in. But when it was announced his prodigal son would be returning, she armed herself. Prepared.
Her chance to finally leave, once and for all.
When she saw him waiting at the bottom of the stairs, he was not at all how she’d pictured him. Nothing like his father. More a young man than a master, built tall and sharp-muscled by the fit of his suit. A jaw that could cut glass defined his face, handsome even in its frozen expression as he studied her just the same.
Rather than take his gentle, outstretched palm, she balled her fist and aimed straight for his smooth brow.
He’d caught it with a smile, brass knuckles poised over hers. “Kallia.”
“Bastard.” A seething breath burst from her. No matter how hard she pushed or pulled, his touch stilled hers. “Who are you?”
And how had he stopped her? None of her tutors had been able to. Her rage burned past the skin. Smoke rose from beneath his brass knuckles covering her hand, fire bottled in her palm. The blood in her veins.
Unflinching, his gaze met hers through the smoke. “We’re not so different, you and I,” he mused. “Such power.”
“And I’ll use it,” Kallia growled. “Those basic tutors all but ran the moment I mastered their tricks. Easily.”
“I’ve heard.” The edge of his lips curled, as if he knew this song all too well. “What a privilege it is, to be capable of what we can do. To be taught—”
“To be trapped.”
She scoffed hard, but he only assessed her more intently. “Then why haven’t you left? You never once came at Sire with your fists, or was that honor for me alone?”
What a strange way to talk about his father, whose corpse was not even in the ground yet. “How do you know I didn’t?” she bit out, a lie. Sire rarely left his rooms enough for her to even hiss in his direction so much as fling a punch. “How do you know I wasn’t biding my time, learning all that I could to destroy this place when it finally suited me?”
Like tonight. She flared warning fire across her fist, so suddenly that Jack’s grip wavered. Still, he didn’t let go. “How would you like to know more?”
Abruptly the room blushed deep scarlet.
Their shadows, dark as blood on the walls.
With the flick of his free hand, the world was no longer red. The candles flared to a royal purple, shifting from cold blue to warm hues at the twirl of his finger. Begrudgingly, Kallia glanced around, her skin chilling and rising in wonder. How different the world became under all manner of colors. Full and alight.
Alive.
“That’s why you’re still here, isn’t it?” he said, restoring the candles’ natural light. Watching her. “Somehow, you knew there was more to magic than having it. There’s always more, and you look like you want it.”
Kallia said nothing. Only glared in the way she’d practiced so often in the mirror, to ensure nothing about her faltered. But the force of his gaze stole her fire. Stripped her entirely, until even her heartbeats whispered pain throughout her chest. Yes, yes, yes.
He loosened his grip, stepping back. “The House is mine now, and I’ll give you a choice. You can leave, but you’d soon see there’s not much out there for female magicians. Your power’s not what Queen Casine’s Academy is used to, but they’d take you. Mold your magic for a life of quiet work.”
Kallia cringed. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
“I wish I were. The world’s become a bleak, unfair place, especially to those with the most power,” he said, eyes narrowing. “The most potential.”
The truth gnawed at Kallia. All her tutors had hesitated at her aptitude for learning. For her power. They’d gather small cloths for her to embroider delicately with magic, and she’d send the spools of thread ribboning in the air, weaving each colorful strand into a braid that filled the room. They’d give her lessons to levitate ingredients into stews and bread, and she’d come out