Chapter 11

A fter I dry off and clean up, Gemma and Viola escort me to my first lesson. Thankfully, they refrained from asking why I returned to my chambers sopping wet. My cheeks burn red hot at the thought of Olly's muscular body moving through the water and my failed attempt to flee. I long for a way to wipe that memory clean.

"Why are the hallways so confusing?" I ask Viola offhandedly as she leads me through the zigzagging corridors. It's full of more twists and turns than a maze. Some hallways lead to dead ends, others loop around in a circle.

"It's a defense mechanism used to confuse intruders." She tugs on my hand, pulling me toward a right turn. "It takes time and practice to map out these halls."

"You'll get there," Gemma assures me.

When we reach the study, Gemma and Viola open the door but do not enter. They say a quick goodbye and then turn back in the direction from which we came. I step inside the dimly lit study alone and see a man waiting for me. His dark skin crinkles with lines of age, marking at least sixty years. And the carefully tapered trousers gathered around his ankles appear expensive, made of fabric finer than any I've worn. He's not what I expected from a tutor.

He doesn't waste a moment before lunging forward to greet me. "Radya, it's such a thrill to meet you! My name is Sir Magis." He reaches a hand out to shake mine with a steel grip. There's a twinkle in his eye as he studies my face like I'm some sort of interesting peculiarity.

"Nice to meet you, Sir Magis." I pull back as soon as he lets go of my hand.

"You have no idea what an honor it is to be here with you at last." He claps his hands together beneath his chin. "I heard rumors of your arrival and begged our great king to place you under my tutelage."

"An honor?" It takes me a second to remember that this family, and those around them, seem to be aware of my supposed gift, however mistaken they may be. "You probably know more about me than I do."

"Yes, well, my job here is to help you uncover the hidden powers lying in wait." He hobbles over to the desk in the center of the room and takes a seat behind it. He then motions for me to sit in the leather armchair across from him.

I struggle to see the writing on the pages strewn across the desk, as the only light source is a single rectangular window that appears to be lit not by sunlight but by magic. It's not unusual, I'm learning, for the rooms of this palace to lack outward-facing windows. Perhaps that's the most jarring feature of this whole palace. He notices my straining and waves his hand over the candelabra. Each of the seven wicks sparks to life in response.

"I heard that you produced magic yesterday, hm?" He grins in a way that suggests he already knows exactly how that event unfolded.

Bashfully, I tell him, "I visualized a pie flying through the air and landing on Olly…"

"Prince Allwyn Delusia, the future King of Mendacia," he corrects. "I believe in formality when it comes to our royal family."

I stifle the urge to say that I, unlike him, do not give a rat's ass about using Olly's formal name or title. It would only inflate his already swollen ego. But, instead, I nod and force a smile. I need this man to like me at least enough to teach me.

"I used magic to throw a pie at Prince Allwyn Delusia ," I amend, and the name tastes bitter on my tongue.

"And this was your first attempt?"

"Yes. Until I arrived here, I had no idea that I was even capable of magic. I had never heard of any special gifts either, but Queen Eleanor suggested that I possess some great gift from the gods. Though from what I can tell, I am ordinary," I probe, scanning his face for a reaction, but it betrays nothing.

"I am aware of your gift, or at least the conjecture surrounding it, but it is not my place to bring you to enlightenment. My job is to help you develop your powers, whatever those may or may not be. In truth, this will be more of an experiment. Consider yourself one of my subjects." His words seem measured, careful not to let some secret slip out between the lines.

"Am I not entitled to know what gifts I possess?" I can hardly use that word without cringing.

He drops his head and focuses on his folded hands. "I dare say, I agree. However, I cannot disobey my king. He will grant you the answers that you seek in due time."

His answer hardly satisfies me, but I will table that discussion for later. "What do you mean about this being an experiment?"

"You're very special, Radya. You should know that by now. But you are also a mystery. Such a gift is rarely given, and as such, those who possessed it before you preferred secrecy. Thus, only the speculative history survived. We do not know the full extent of the powers you've been granted. Together, you and I will test the boundaries and explore the possibilities. But that's all that you need to know, please trust me on that. For now, let's work on your magic." He holds out his hand, revealing a tangerine. "Move this object from my hand to the table."

"Using magic?" Just because I've done it once, does not mean that I can reproduce the charm at will. That happened as a spontaneous result of stress and frustration, not under the watchful eyes of a tutor with misplaced expectations.

"Yes, with magic."

"How?"

He manages a limp shrug and offers no advice, not even a hint. "But if you cannot make this object move, then perhaps you are not capable of such things. Perhaps we have, in fact, made a mistake."

He's trying to rile me up. Even though his intent is transparent, the sting pierces all the same, scratching at the tender wound of my self-doubt.

To prove him wrong – to prove myself wrong – I fix my gaze upon the tangerine and visualize the arc between Sir Magis' hand and the table, connecting the two by an invisible string. Within that picture of my mind's eye, I see the object lifting from his hand, lighter than air.

Focus.

Visualize.

Just like the pie.

The tangerine remains stagnant without showing any signs of moving.

How did I move the pie? I was so irritated with Olly that all I wanted was to get under his skin like he did mine. Did the irritation act as fuel? Perhaps if I shift my focus from the visualization of the fruit's movement to how it would feel to see it move, then I might be able to reproduce the magic.

So, how would I feel? Triumphant, I guess. Self-assured. Powerful. I try my hardest to mentally grasp the sensation of these emotions one by one. I clear my mind of all extraneous thoughts, leaving only a single mental chamber to be filled with my desire for this tangerine to move. The force of the magic builds up inside of it, buzzing as it grows in power. I can feel it there, ready to be harnessed.

I grab onto that bundle of magic, and it feels so real. It's as if that power is encapsulated in a glowing cylinder, cool to the touch, and as real as if I were holding it with my own hands. I let it seep into my fingertips before pushing it out through my eyes toward the tangerine.

I visualize the tangerine lifting up, up, up…

It takes me a moment to realize that I am no longer imagining its movement. The tangerine is in the air! Did I do it? I close my eyes and reopen them to be sure, but there it is. Plain as day. That tangerine is actually floating! "Ah-ha!" I yell, which snaps the mental link and forces the tangerine back into Sir Magis' hand.

"No, not a mistake at all," he coos, puffing his chest proudly. He places the tangerine back on the desk and claps twice, slow and clipped. "However, you accomplished only half of your goal. It is important to keep a strict focus until you complete your task. Do not divert your attention with premature celebration. Again."

"Can we take a moment to recognize that I moved the tangerine with my mind?" I want to continue feeling this power for as long as I can. I want to savor it, this feeling of triumph. It came so quickly, faster than I ever imagined possible. Could it be true? Could I possess some sort of latent gift of power?

"Sure, we could. But then how would you learn the lesson that every magical task must be completed in its entirety? It might not seem necessary when the stakes are so low, but imagine that your powers held life and death in the balance. If you haven't cultivated the mental strength to complete the task, then the consequences could be dire. Always, always finish the charm. Even if it's as simple as moving a tangerine," he says.

"Okay, then. Let's go again."

* * *

We run through this exercise, transporting various items to and fro, until the room resembles a junkyard of scattered objects. Only when the sun falls below the earth do we quit.

For years, I felt something stirring inside of me, untouchable and unseen. It thrummed beneath the surface and clawed at my mind in search of release. I never knew what it was, how to quiet it, or why the simple act of living felt so unfulfilling. Now, I understand. There was power lurking in my veins, waiting for the moment that it would finally be unleashed. It feels like my body is awakening as a result of this newfound connection. Coming alive with every breath.

What other parts of myself have I been neglecting? What else might I be capable of? The gift that the gods granted me must also be in there, waiting to be explored.

When I exit the study, I nearly jump out of my skin. Those glowing red eyes, the eyes of the invisibles, are waiting for me. But unlike the years that I spent finding them only on the edge of sleep, they don't disappear. They are as real and as venomous as ever. Watching me. Waiting for my next move.

Gemma rushes toward me and yanks my arm to pull me down the hallway. "Don't let them see your fear," she whispers to me when they are no longer in earshot. Or, so I think.

Their presence unnerves me – never knowing when they're around or what they're watching. "Have they been here this whole time?" How many nights did I spend staring at them in complete ignorance of their presence? Am I still being watched so closely, so intimately, now?

"They're always with you. They're your guards! Don't worry, you'll get used to it," she says, though the strength of the grip curling around my forearm suggests otherwise.

"At all times? Like when I'm in the bath or getting dressed?" I look over my shoulder to see if they're close behind. And even though I see nothing but the candle-lit hallway, I still quicken my pace. "And why is this my first time seeing them like this?"

"No, not like that. They don't watch you , watch you. They just stand guard outside the door. And you haven't seen them because they're only visible in the dark, unless they choose otherwise," she explains as if it's common and completely acceptable. But how could it be anything but creepy? I could never get used to being watched, or guarded, all the time. Not even in the Palace of Light.

"Back in the cottage, they were in my bedroom. Their eyes glowed red hot, and they did watch me. They watched me sleep every single night!" The thought alone gives me shivers.

"Things were different there, I guess. At least while you're here, they're supposed to wait outside," she says. But how would I know for sure? I mean, theoretically, they could be watching me at all times, and I would be none the wiser.

"Back in the cottage, when nightmares consistently woke me up at odd hours in the night, I would only see the red eyes for a moment. They always disappeared before I could get a good look. Why don't they disappear here?"

We turn another corner, and I lose all sense of direction.

"They probably closed their eyes when you woke." She leans in close and whispers, "Between you and me, I think it's wrong that they didn't warn you of their presence. To be watched like that unknowingly is a violation of your privacy. Nobody deserves that."

"Right?" The validation of my experience provides more comfort than I expected. It's wrong that they never warned me. It's wrong that my mother allowed this type of intrusion. And, even worse, it's wrong that she tricked me into believing that I'd made it all up. She used to tell me that there was no such thing as monsters and if I just went back to sleep, then all would be well.

We turn another corner, and I recognize the hallway that leads to my bedroom. The candle next to my door tilts a little to the left, though that's the only distinguishing feature I've learned so far.

"How many are there? Do they have names?"

"That is above my pay grade, I'm afraid."

Just thinking about the invisibles sends a chill down my spine. They could eavesdrop on any conversation and report it back to the king and queen. Without a way to detect whether or not they're in the room, I'll never be able to share a secret or experience a private moment.

How can I change this?