I remembered skimming through books on magecraft, but I had always focused on what a human could wield. Anything about wielding myself had seemed too distant to bother with.
“When younglings begin their studies,” he went on, “one of their first challenges is to visualise their access. They describe what they see, though it can take years for some to glimpse it at all. You’ll begin the same exercise.” He opened the tome. “The access of all power lies in the oldest stones, the soil, the air, the water. It is everywhere. But the ability to draw from it is not for all, as you know. When you do, the mana shapes itself accordingto your strengths, your temperament. It takes a form in your mind, a creature. What you envision becomes your familiar.”
He smiled faintly. “Mine is a parrot. A majestic red-and-gold one. I’m a social man, you see, highly intelligent, regardless of what others might claim.”
A small laugh caught in my throat.
“The familiar reflects you,” he went on, “though some say it’s the other way around. It’s also the most practical form of communication, and any mageborn can easily tell who a familiar belongs to.”
Kellan’s mouth twitched as he faced Joy, who had her arms folded over her chest. “Did you see your familiar when you entered a flux, Miss Darling?”
Perhaps he’d seen a tell. She hesitated.
“It looks nebulous at first,” he explained, “but as you gain control, the shape becomes more detailed.”
“Can you explain what a flux is?” I asked.
“A flux occurs when your power reacts to your emotions without your command,” he said. “The greater your access to mana, the harder it becomes to control. It can take years to master, especially for adults, but it can be done. Our power is mighty, yes, but remember: we draw from it, not it from us.
“You can only wield so much mana in a day before you risk depleting yourself. Children begin wielding roughly their body weight as it grows. An average mageborn wields about one and a half times their weight. When you enter a flux, it’s normal to wield almost all of your capacity.”
He paused, eyes settling on me. “The majority of lords and ladies are trained early, so their range can be anywhere from eight to fourteen times their body weight. But that level of wielding takes time to reach, and it must be achieved with caution. Sustained too long, it can burn the wielder from the inside out.”
My stomach dipped. My own measurement was zero point three. Less than a child’s, less than the manifestation threshold.
He likely already knew that, judging by how he’d spoken with Joy.
My sister frowned. “Why so much higher?”
“They practise a lot from childhood as preparation for their roles, and some of them are already predisposed for stronger accesses,” Kellan explained, flipping through the book until he paused at a page crowded with inked beasts. “In time, you’ll find some abilities come easier than others. That’s how we’ll discern your aptitudes, the ways your access leans, the kind of work it answers best. The shape it takes will tell you much about yourself.”
Curiosity and unease warred inside me. And with them came a memory, of an animal with feathered wings and a curved beak.
“Do you know if Caedmon’s shape…is a bird?” I asked.
He looked mildly surprised by the question. “I’m fairly certain it’s close to a wolf. It delivered my recent invite to the Hall. Wolves are natural protectors. Leaders, loyal, with sharp intuition. Why?”
I pursed my mouth. It couldn’t have been his familiar that I’d seen. I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d seen that day or if I’d imagined it. “I don’t want to assume.”
Kellan leaned forward. “What did you see, Jane?”
The spike of curiosity in his expression was encouraging. “I think I saw something once. A bird. Curved beak, feathered wings.”
He leaned back, studying me. “Ah. A robin, perhaps?”
I shook my head. “No. Larger. White.”
“An eagle, then?”
“I… I think so,” I murmured. “It looked like an eagle.”
His smile widened. “An air creature. Perceptive, free-spirited. Blessed with keen eyesight.”
Chapter 14
Reagan
When Reagan stepped into his foyer, his staff were filing toward the dining room. Conversation halted immediately as every pair of eyes fixed on him, on the mud staining his clothes, the wild tangle of his hair, and the bruise darkening into a deep violet along his jaw.
