heard anything.
That really drove home how far House Redbriar had fallen. The decline had begun even while Priam Redbriar was still alive; in his last years, he’d grown secretive and erratic, disappearing from both mage society and Redbriar Manor for months at a time. Only his fearsome reputation as the most powerful mage alive had kept his enemies from taking advantage of his absences.
Now, with him dead, even House Redbriar’s old allies were turning away like rats fleeing a sinking ship. It didn’t help that Cly’s first impression here at Wraithwood Academy had been the opposite of what she’d intended. Everyone had clearly concluded that the Nightfelds were going to end up the unopposed future leaders of mage society, and that it wouldn’t do to be seen cozying up to their mortal enemy.
A few had even decided that the best way to win favor with the Nightfelds was to join in on harassing me. Aegis caught a few crumpled wads of paper being thrown at me as we made our way to my Lower Magic class.
That was being held in the gym too. “Darshan!” I called out, spotting him sitting on the bleachers with all the other students.
He turned, revealing a bruise on his cheek. I winced in sympathy. “Ouch, you had Practical Education too?”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Honestly, I got off lightly. My opponent was a Stonehaven.” They were another Great House family, a tier below the Redbriars and Nightfelds. “I’m surprised at you, though,” he said, glancing at my bruising, which I hadn’t bothered to hide through illusions. “Wouldn’t have thought a Redbriar could take it in the face.”
I gave a tired smile. “Sometimes you’ve gotta pay to play.”
He looked at me dubiously. “I have no idea what that means. Are you Great Houses up to something again?”
“You could say that.” I decided it was safer to change the subject, especially with Aegis listening in. I took out my drawings. “Anyway, do you have the composite draft you mentioned yesterday?”
Darshan brightened, reaching for his own backpack. We exchanged whispers and notebook pages even as class began.
Like I’d expected from a class located in the gym, Lower Magic was heavily practical in nature. The gym had been turned into a series of obstacle courses, and after a quick introductory spiel by the professor, we were turned loose on them.
Darshan and I put away our things and started out on the ropes course. The ropes were spaced way further apart than any human could swing or clamber between; we were supposed to use lower magic to bridge the gap, honing our precision and agility.
The physical skills were trickier than they seemed. Unpracticed mages moved as clumsily as teenagers after a growth spurt, trying to coordinate a reach that was several feet longer than it looked, or strength that rapidly fluctuated due to unsteady magic input. There were countless ways to hurt yourself, from crashing into things due to super-speed—to using magic-enhanced strength to pick something up easily, then forgetting you were holding it when the magic ran out.
Hence, supervised practice.
The tricky part today was having to do things with less magic than I usually had at my disposal. Curse all the draining from the necklace.
I jumped with just enough magic to grab onto the first rope, its end dangling ten feet off the ground. I kicked out, swinging toward the next rope, spending more time on building up momentum than I’d otherwise need. Enhancing my reflexes was less costly than enhancing my reach, so I did that as I looked ahead. The next rope was far enough away that I had to launch myself into empty air, just barely snatching it up in my hands across a distance that was meant to be traversed with a few feet of extra reach. The next rope was easier, and the next.
Then I scrambled up a length of swaying netting to an obstacle that had to be crossed with extra reach. A series of uneven ropes hung from the ceiling, high above, separated from me by a magical barrier that prevented anything physical from passing through. To get past, I had to use my magic to grab those ropes from a distance, swinging myself across.
And I had to do it quickly, to conserve magic. I took a moment to observe, planning my movements out in my head. Then I leapt forward.
This had been one of the best parts of magic to my seven-year-old self, wide-eyed and wondering at the new world I’d found myself