Page 66 of Ruby & Onyx

“Besides the fact that someone tried to kill me for considering the possibility, I still don’t understand what you want from me. This gift that you suspect me of possessing may not exist at all.” I assumed that at this point I would have at least a vague understanding of the gift, but I couldn’t be further from uncovering it. I am so far from special. I am not impressive. I am simply ordinary. “If you could help me understand my gift, then maybe I can learn to harness it. That might shift my decision closer to an agreement.”

She pauses and, if I’m not mistaken, she might be mulling over the possibility of granting my request. When she steps forward and raises a glowing hand to my shoulder, I freeze. “Your life is the key to life. Our future rests in your hands.”

I blow out a huff of frustration. That answer is as vague as any other. “What does that mean? I’m not the key to anything. I hoped that some magical abilities might reveal themselves in my lessons with Sir Magis. But so far, the most impressive thing I can do is throw a pie across the room!”

The queen lowers her hand from my shoulder, softening her expression as she meets my gaze. “Radya, with you, the future of the Delusia line will reign eternal.” She takes my left hand, cupping it with her own.

I pull my hand back to my side sharply. “Excuse me for being blunt here, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Dear girl, you –” She stops suddenly at the sound of footsteps drawing near. Her eyes meet mine for a second, fear and regret shining through them. And then she turns abruptly away, taking every ounce of my hope with her. Her robe trails behind her like a shadow until she disappears around the corner.

A doe-eyed cook enters the hallway. When she recognizes me, her eyes widen, and she drops into a curtsy.

“Please, there’s no need for that,” I tell her. She nods frantically and then scurries past.

Hot breath escapes my lips, pluming with frustration and anger. How could they let Lord Sherrod go unpunished? Why won’t the queen simply tell me more about my gift? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.

Chapter 30

“Are you sure that you want to go through with this?” Sir Magis asks as he pours the bubbling green liquid into a vial. “There’s still time for me to test below ground.” His eyebrows raise suggestively.

“Not happening. Let’s get this over with… unless you’ve decided to back out of our deal? We both know what happens if you do,” I remind him, though it sends a sickening shiver up my spine. One day I will owe him a favor. Carte blanche. That is the other side of this blood oath that cannot be undone.

He pushes the cork into the vial and sighs. “Very well, then. Let’s go over the procedure.” The pages of the book Sir Magis brought are falling apart, held together precariously by a cracked leather spine. The language is nearly illegible, but from what I can tell, it’s in a foreign tongue. He reads over the inscription once more before walking toward me. “Concentration is key. Focus only on the desired outcome and allow all passing thoughts to flutter by unnoticed. Dig into the desire, hold it, feel it, make it your own.”

“I can do that,” I say more to myself than to him.

“When you’re in the right mental headspace, repeat these words, ‘Ovala mis ulas tes godillia tios hidia,’ and then swallow the potion.” He hands me a handwritten slip of parchment paper with the words in case I forget.

“How do I say this?” The language is foreign. What if I mispronounce or fumble over my words and accidentally turn myself into a bronze bust?

He repeats the words slowly, forming the letters on the tip of his tongue.

I try to replicate it but find myself tongue-tied.

“Focus on the words. Don’t overthink it,” he tells me.

“Ovala… mis ulas… tes godillia… tios hidia.”

“Very good. Practice as much as you need until you’re ready.”

“Okay, I can do this.” My feeble attempt to mask the fear in my voice has the opposite effect. Rather than appearing confident, the chord of terror echoes throughout the room.

He scratches his head, mumbling incoherently to himself. “Right. Well, whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay, I can do this.” I meant to keep that affirmation to myself, but it slipped from my tongue.

Getting into the right mental space is the hardest part. A large portion of my time with Sir Magis has focused on clearing my mind so that I can bolster the deep mental and physical connection required to perform magic. For some, it’s as easy as breathing. For me, it’s next to impossible. My mind is a cluttered and chaotic space, always tugging me back into its depth and obscuring my focus.

Sir Magis taught me a series of measures that help. Breathwork comes first. Slowly inhaling and exhaling, I try to remove all needless distractions. Each time a passing thought enters my mind, I envision myself plucking the thought away and drop kicking it into oblivion. Some days I never get past this step… but today will be different. It has to be different. Otherwise, well, I don’t want to think about what might happen otherwise.

When I try to begin this process, a whisper purrs in the back of my mind. It asks, are you there? Are you there? I do my best to quiet it.

I picture myself walking out of this room and seeing the invisibles standing there, looking them square in the eyes and knowing that they no longer hold the advantage of staying hidden. I feel their power over me fading. I see them. They only observe what I want them to see. They only hear what I let them hear. That gives me the power. That gives me the upper hand.

Breathe in… and out.

When every crevice of my mind is empty of stray thoughts, I suck in a heap of air and proceed.

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