Page 30 of Ruby & Onyx

“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.

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