With a heavy sigh, the professor sits back in his chair. “Though I find this all quite fascinating, and I’m impressed with your success despite the mix-up with animals, I don’t see how I can help you.”
“While I attended Mablemyer, you were studying pixies.”
The professor glances at me, suddenly hesitant. “Yes…”
Encouraged, Rowan flaps his wings and then tucks them against his body. “You found a way for pixies to wield their innate magic, didn’t you? Would it be possible for Kit to change me back?”
“You’d be better off to find an elf to help you.”
“I don’t know any elves,” Rowan says, exasperated. “And where am I supposed to find one?”
“Ryder is an elf,” I remind Rowan.
He turns his attention to me, and the feathered ridge over his eyes lowers like he’s scowling. “Ryder is a fae college drop-out.”
“Well…I never attended a fae college at all.”
“Yes,” he hedges, “but I can work with you.”
“You can’t work with Ryder?”
“I like Ryder just fine, but he wouldn’t have the patience for the process.”
I feel like he’s keeping something from me, but I don’t know what.
“And you think I do?” I press.
“Iknowyou do, because you’d like me out of your house. Motivation is a glorious thing.”
Frowning because he’s right, I turn back to the professor. “Is it possible? Can I learn to wield my magic?”
“Itispossible. In a manner…”
“How do we start?” Rowan demands.
I almost think the professor is going to send us away, but then he finally answers, “First, you must make Kit’s magic accessible and stabilize it so she may use it—she’ll never be ableto work with it as it is now. Once you’ve done that, she must learn how to manipulate it. Since she’s a complete novice, as unprepared as a human, it won’t be an easy feat.”
I feel like I should take offense to that, since my magic has been a part of me since I was born, but he’s right. I don’t know how to cast spells or create charms. I couldn’t make a potion if my life depended on it. I can’t even make soup.
“How do you make pixie magic wieldable?” I ask.
The professor contemplates me again, making me a touch nervous.
Wearing a grim sort of expression I don’t care for, he says, “First, you’ll have to siphon some of it into a holding vessel.”
A cold chill travels my spine, and goosebumps rise on my arms.
“And then you must mix it with another magic to stabilize it. In the past, I’ve experimented with my own magic, but that won’t work for this particular exercise.”
I’m still caught on the part where he said he’s going to siphon my magic. It’s a pixie’s nightmare, the thing we fear most as children.
“What type of magic do you need to temper it with?” Rowan asks, like this is all okay.
And it’s not.
I stay quiet, listening as they calmly discuss this thing which is absolutely not going to happen.
“Your first task will be tracking down a proper vessel,” the professor says. “And this time, Rowan, make sure you go through an authentic dealer. A glass amulet will suffice for temporary storage—new, not used. But a dust pendant would be preferable.”
