“You idiot.” I forced my voice out. “You wanted your home back, and that’s what you’ll get. I’ve always told you I wouldn’t go to war with Knight.”
“Coward.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “This is called common sense, which apparently isn’t very common.”
I remained tense even when he calmed down, but I wondered if I should apply my strategy to Graves as well.
40
MENTAL POWER
Irene
Hopefully, my newfound energy would speed up my progress.
Darius and Myrtha were both training me on how to free my mental power. A power that killed men without my having to stab them.
The idea of killing to survive still worried me, but I didn’t want Alex or someone else to help me stab a target. It was my choice, a difficult one, but mine. And above all, I wanted to find Sean and kill him. I didn’t care if he was a wizard. I would grow stronger than Sean’s powers.
The sunlight glinted off the marble benches in the garden, and I glanced at Alex’s window and the drawn curtains. If he could avoid bright days, he would.
Darius placed an empty bottle of wine on a barrel. “Let’s try again.”
“You need to visualise your power in your mind.” Myrtha focused on the target. “Stay still. Imagine the bottle shattering. Your power will do the rest.”
Darius arched his brow. “Do the rest? I disagree. In fact, I disagree with your whole approach.”
Myrtha balled her fists. “What does a lizard know about a wili’s power?”
He angled towards me. “See why I prefermage? If you think this is how mental power works, please go on.”
Myrtha tilted her chin up and faced the target. White light glowed around her, and the air pulsated with her power. The bottle twitched and jumped. She drew her eyebrows closer. The bottle shook harder until it shattered.
She wheezed. “See? It works.”
“Your turn, Irene.” Darius waved a hand, and the bottle recomposed itself on the barrel.
“Show off.” Myrtha pouted.
“Waste not. Irene, follow Myrtha’s approach.”
I visualised the bottle being shattered, but nothing happened. I concentrated harder. Still nothing. My light didn’t even glimmer.
Myrtha patted my shoulder. “You need practice.”
“Pish.” Darius stepped in front of me. “I want you to do this. Don’t visualise anything. Pretend the bottle is in your hand and make the gesture of smashing it.”
“Ridiculous,” Myrtha muttered.
I did as Darius said, pretending to hold the bottle and—the glass shattered without me doing anything else. “My goodness.”
Darius punched the air. “See? It works.”
Myrtha glowered so hard she might have a permanent frown. “You did it. You used your magic to break the bottle.”
“I would never do that.” He was outraged.
My enthusiasm died. “Did you do it?”
