“I’m Laerune Xanthos. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Darling,” she said softly, dipping her head in a gesture that hovered too close to a curtsy.
It made no sense. They had to know I didn’t have the role yet.
“My lessons will be with you alone,” Laerune continued, facing me. “The Mage Lord mentioned your gift for divination, one that can be refined with practice.”
My lips curved, and I fought the urge to let my leg bounce.
“I believe I’m the last,” said an older man, roughly Barracus’s age, but of an entirely different sort.
He regarded us with a kind smile set against a paler face, his eyes a bright, shimmering pink. They caught the light, and it seemed to change to violet for a moment. Taller than the rest, he carried himself with quiet confidence, not like Seraphyn’s austerity.
“I’m Elaith Tarsis,” he said, “tutor in spellcraft and specialist in the healing arts.”
I blinked, fascinated by his remarkable eyes as I returned the greeting.
“Barracus will be overjoyed to have you here, Elaith,” Cerridwen said while Elaith inclined his head to Joy, who offered only a small nod.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
Elaith chuckled under his breath, folding his hands in front of his sage-green robe, reminding me faintly of Hildegard. “You and I both know that will not make a difference to him,” he saidto Cerridwen with a knowing smile, then looked back at me. “Barracus and I are bonded partners.”
My jaw slackened before I caught myself. He noticed, of course. I just couldn’t imagine Barracus Crow having a romantic relationship. Or a romantic bone in his body.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m just surprised. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“He spoke highly of you,” Elaith added.
“Hedid?”
His smile deepened, easy and disarming, the kind that came from someone entirely aware of its effect. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Barracus smile.
“I understand your surprise,” he said. “But he’s not as severe as he seems. Difficult to impress, yes, which is precisely why I was intrigued when I received the Mage Lord’s request.”
“You seem much nicer than him,” Joy said, matter-of-fact, her fingers fidgeting with the gemstone pendant hanging from her neck.
Elaith’s smile didn’t waver. “I’m glad to hear it. You and I will be spending quite a bit of time together.”
“Well,” Kellan interjected, stepping forward with theatrics, reclaiming the room’s attention, “it seems you’ve taken quite enough time from my class. You’ll begin with me, the fundamentals of magecraft, and soon you’ll meet your other, far less qualified tutors.”
I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. His jab landed smoothly, if Seraphyn’s eye roll was any indication. She turned on her heel and started toward the doorway.
Kellan was not at all what I’d imagined when Caedmon mentioned tutors, but, to my relief, he seemed like the best possible place to start.
“I do want to clarify one thing,” Cerridwen said to the five of us. Seraphyn had already left. “You’ll each be assessed by yourtutors. They’ll determine which of you requires more attention in certain disciplines. It’s common to show aptitude in some areas and not others.”
“You’re stepping into my class, my dear,” Kellan drawled.
Cerridwen arched a thin brow. “We’ll leave you to it, then. Good luck.”
Kellan gestured us toward a dark wood table by the window as Cerridwen and the other tutors left. Four chairs with black padding stood neatly arranged, two on each side. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Today’s lesson will be mostly introductory, so you can ask whatever questions arise.”
Joy and I took our seats across from him, who rested his forearms on the table.
“So, no practice today?” I asked.
Kellan ran his knotted hands across the carved grain of the desk. At his touch, the wood shifted with a faint sigh, and from it rose a thick, weathered tome. Summoning.
“Your access,” he began, “is the first thing you must understand before you can truly wield mana, before it becomes your essence, your personal strain of power. Every mageborn perceives their access differently. My task is to help you find yours.”
