Chapter 6

Ren needed a proper target for her fury.

She went straight to the archive room. There were seven scattered around Balmerick, but she always booked the same one. It was in the northeastern corner of campus, hidden in a grove of speckled pines that had been translocated from the southern plains to provide a better atmosphere for the Heights. Their great limbs bent overhead like the arches of a cathedral. An appropriate image, as time in the tower room was the closest Ren came to worshipping anything.

The cellar door was set diagonally into a hillside. A stone staircase descended into the dark. As she reached the bottom, the passage narrowed. There were no torches to guide her steps. This far down, the darkness became a living thing. She shivered against the cellar's chill until the first lights stirred in reaction to her movement.

Bright tendrils reached out from the stone walls. As Ren walked forward, the entire room filled with their gentle glow. A low hum of energy buzzed to life. She still remembered the first time she stepped foot in an archive room. Her teacher had explained that the rooms were designed to make magic visible in the air around them, offering wizards a safe environment to practice their spellwork. It was here that wizards could learn—and archive—new spells for their arsenals. Ren reached out now, as she had then, and let her fingertips graze the almost-solid wisps.

Before coming to this continent, Ren's ancestors—the Delveans—had no magic at all. Neither did the Tusk people, for that matter. It was only in sailing here—to the land where dragons once lived—that both groups discovered a new power. Every time Ren stepped into an archive room, she could not help tracing back through history. If she'd been born three centuries ago, she'd have lived a magicless life. Two centuries ago, and only the most fledgling spells would have been in use. One century, and she'd have been practicing wild magic as she waited for the impending discoveries that would form the cornerstone of the modern, structured magic system.

But she hadn't been born in any of those eras. She existed in a time when she could walk into a room made by and for magic—a time when anyone could build up their arsenal, one spell at a time. Even if society did its best to limit people in her position, Ren was always grateful for that small gift of fate. After all, she could not imagine a life without her favorite spells.

The narrow passage widened into a single room. Two small towers waited at the very heart of the space. One stood about waist height, the other up to her shoulders. Neither tower was wider than a stack of books. A parade of facts marched traitorously through Ren's mind. She knew the number of attempts it took the average person to master a new spell, and how many spells the greatest wizards in history had in their possession when they died.

She knew… she knew… she knew…

You justhave to be right. It's exhausting.

Devlin's words struck her again. Harder this time. She might have shrugged off a breakup for any other reason, but his words cut deeper than expected. They breathed life into other suspicions. If Devlin found her intelligence exhausting, maybe others did too. She pictured that empty hallway outside Agora's room. Maybe whispers about her had reached the Shiverians. Maybe everyone thought of her as a know-it-all without any real substance. Maybe she'd never get recruited.

Ren angrily shrugged off the strap of her satchel. She crossed the room and opened the front panel of the taller tower. Inside was a lone candle. She lit the wick and stared intently at the flame. The point of this particular candle was meditation. An effort to quiet all other thoughts except for the steps of the spell she intended to master. When she'd visualized the entirety of the magic, she shut the compartment. Turning, she set her mother's bracelet on top of the second tower. If she succeeded, the new spell would write itself into the memory of her vessel and become a permanent part of Ren's already-impressive arsenal.

You justhave to be right. It's exhausting.

"Shut up. Just shut up."

Ren took a deep breath.

The Tusk people believed that magic was a question. The wizard asked and the magic gave an answer. Most Delveans thought of it as a matter of willpower. A strong mind could shape the invisible world into whatever form it desired. Ren thought that magic felt more like the first steps of a dance. Almost like she was holding out her hand, waiting for an invisible partner to accept that first inviting touch.

"Energy distribution spell," she announced to the empty room. "Attempt thirteen."

The surrounding magic took form. Ren set her feet, thinking back through the complicated steps of her altered spell. In the vague and distant light she saw a projectile shape itself in the air. The spearlike object rotated until it was aimed directly at her chest, then it cut through the dark with speed. Ren's right hand shot up instinctually.

The first layer is a catch-point for the tip of the projectile.

Her palm flexed, fingers splaying.

The second layer dispenses energy. Instead of one direct path, give it hundreds.

She twisted her wrist in a quick rotation.

Third layer forces that momentum to circle, and then the fourth—

But Ren's motions were a step too slow. The projectile hit her summoned wall of magic. Its force dispersed outward, harnessed by the circle she'd built, but she'd failed to summon the fourth and final layer of the spell. The one that redirected the weapon harmlessly into the ground behind her.

"Well, I guess I'm dead," a voice said in the dark.

Ren couldn't help smiling. Timmons Devine was striding forward. Her best friend and only trustworthy ally at Balmerick. The fake spear was lodged just below her right shoulder. She brushed at the magic with an idle hand, and the light dissolved back into the rest of the swirls in the room. Timmons approached with a look of pity on her face. Ren scowled.

"Seriously? You've already heard?"

Timmons smiled. "You called him a sanctimonious prick in the middle of the quad."

She made a face and they both started laughing. Timmons came forward to wrap Ren in a hug. Her best friend was nearly a head taller and always smelled like a walk through a garden. Her silver-white hair looked fine enough to string a harp with. Ren felt the knotted anger in her chest unravel, if only for a moment. Timmons pulled away to get a good look at her.

"Paladins. All that light just makes it easier to see the rot underneath. You can do better."

Ren nodded. "I know. I've already decided to marry this archive room. A far better suitor."

"And likely a more engaging conversationalist than Devlin."

Ren laughed again. Her friend was watching her closely.

"It's not just Devlin," she said. "I had an interview today."

Timmons raised an eyebrow. "With which house?"

"Shiverian."

"Gods, Ren. Why didn't you tell me? We talked about this last week. All you needed was a chance to show them who you are. This is what we've been waiting for. How did it go?"

"It didn't go. I was snubbed. No one showed."

Timmons looked shocked. She pulled Ren into another hug. "Their loss, dear. When you invent the next brilliant spell, it will be even more their loss. Go on. I'll help you with whatever you're working on. Just this once."

Her friend retreated to the back wall and took a seat. Turning, Ren prepared the practice magic again. She and Timmons had been best friends since sophomore year. Their paths had crossed in a few classes, as well as while taking the school's waxway portal home. Both of them attended on scholarship. Ren had been plucked out of the public schools down in Kathor for her exam scores. Timmons had been chosen because she possessed one of the rarest and most sought-after genetic traits in the world.

She was an enhancer.

Enhancers were born with the natural ability to increase the potency of magic. Every great house courted people like her and barely managed to keep from drooling in the process. Timmons had been pursued since her first day on campus. None of the houses wanted to appear too publicly desperate, because the founders of the city would not stoop so low as to beg, but secretly they all left her gifts. High-end dresses made of specialized weaver's thread. Small trinkets wrought from gold. Marriage proposals to their second- or third-born sons. Anything within reason to lure a powerful commodity like Timmons into their family. It was also why the two of them rarely discussed Ren's recruitment. The chasm between their experiences was too large for her to stomach at times.

As Ren settled into her stance again, she could feel the power waiting in her friend's veins. The magic re-formed into another projectile in the distance. It took aim. Timmons acted like a funnel. Whatever magic Ren might have wasted alone, Timmons gathered and honed to a fine point. Her presence made executing the spell impossibly easy.

Ren completed all four steps before the spear was halfway through the air. The weapon's tip caught. Its momentum circled in a tight sphere. And then the imagined spear planted in the ground directly behind her. Just as intended.

"Flawless," Timmons announced. "Though, I'd recruit you on looks alone."

Ren laughed at that, dabbing the sweat on her forehead with a sleeve.

"I won't always have you to amplify my magic."

"No, but it's easier to use a spell than it is to learn the spell in the first place. All you have to do now is practice."

"Very true. Which will mean more time down in this archive room, to which I am recently wed. We will live a very happy life together, I think."

"That is… pitiful," Timmons replied. "Speaking of pitiful, I think the best way to get you out of the societal basement is to attend a festivity."

Ren rounded on her friend. "No."

"And there happens to be a festivity tonight."

"Timmons, come on.…"

"And considering the favor I just extended to you, I think it only fair that you return said favor by coming to a party I am practically obligated to attend."

"I have homework."

"Actually, I checked the itinerary board. You don't have any assignments."

"Exams—"

"Just finished. The next round are nearly five weeks away, Ren! We're about to be on break."

"Devlin might be there."

"I daresay he considers himself above such debauchery."

She had a point. Ren groaned. "Do I have to go?"

"Ren Monroe. Did we not recently discuss your prospects? Did we not discuss the idea that you have, until now, failed to properly kiss the rings and asses of the city's elite? Are you not down here bemoaning the cowardly ignorance of House Shiverian? This is your chance to shake a few hands and remind people that you are more than a walking textbook."

"Ouch," Ren replied. "A walking textbook? Really? Is that how you see me?"

"I know better, but they don't. Come to the party. Smile and drink and prove them wrong. I am not going to let the smartest girl in our grade go belly-up in graduate school. You deserve a spot in one of the big five houses. It is time to dig in and fight for it."

Ren snorted. "I'm confused. Is this about making me feel better? Or finding me a job?"

"Both," Timmons replied. "Two wyverns with one stone, as they say."

Deep down Ren wanted to disappear into the comfort of her bedroom and be alone. Timmons had come through plenty of times for her, though. And she was right about making some social strides. Even if she didn't land a job tonight, it'd be nice to get out and have a proper drink.

"Fine."

Timmons let out a squeal. "All right. I'll leave you alone. Practice away. Oh, and perhaps hit the baths before tonight? Just a thought."

"Do I smell?"

"Like sweat and hatred."

Ren laughed. "I'll see you later. And thanks for the help."

Timmons waved over one shoulder, vanishing back up the stairs. Ren turned to find the fire in her mother's bracelet was glowing. A sign that the new spell had been stored inside. She slid the metal onto her wrist, resetting her feet.

"Energy distribution spell," she enunciated. "Alteration attempt one."

It was Ren's favorite moment. Idea on the verge of substance.

Knowledge—pushed and prodded—into magic.