Page 15 of Twisted Magic

Alise Elal rounded the bend in her elemental-powered chariot and took in the daunting and impressive sight of Convocation Academy.

The very last place in all the world that she wanted to be.

Especially returning this way, with her tail between her legs. After a daring escape in which she’d harbored dazzling visions of thumbing her nose at the academy and the entire Convocation, racing off to rescue her sister, and saving the love—and possibly lives—of her dear friends, this return felt more than a little anticlimactic. It turned out that thumbing your nose at society wasn’t all that exciting. Nic hadn’t needed rescuing at all, but was perfectly happy as Lady Phel and Gabriel’s familiar. At least, Alise had managed to save Han and Iliana from being made into virtual slaves by Sabrina Sammael. The cooing-dove pair were cozily ensconced in the protection of House Phel, more in love than ever, and blissfully happy.

In truth, not having to daily witness Han and Ilian’s true love was the one upside of returning to Convocation Academy to dutifully complete her education. Though the pair had been unfailingly generous about including Alise in their company, they couldn’t change the fact that Alise was the third wheel on their merry chariot of love. Or, given the wizard–familiar dynamics hammered into them all since birth, a better metaphor was that Alise had been the awkward wizard-cart harnessing them to her like tandem pony-familiars. As much as Iliana and Han protested that they were happy to feed her their magic, she’d still felt like a parasite. A lonely one.

Did parasites feel lonely? Maybe they did, endlessly feeding off of others, taking their life energy, not truly wanted, only tolerated. A glum perspective that perfectly suited her mood.

The one other bright spot about leaving House Phel—a guilt-inducing one that lessened the sense of reprieve considerably—was no longer having to see Maman every day. Ever since Alise had severed the wizard–familiar bond between her mother and father, Maman had been unresponsive, lying in her bed and staring at the ceiling with her uncanny cat’s eyes. Only Wizard Asa’s healing magic kept the woman alive. And it was no kind of life.

Nic argued that none of them knew if the severing lay at the root of their mother’s continued catatonic state or if it was the effect of Maman being kept in her alternate form for so long. Retaining the feline cast of her alternate form’s eyes indicated that lingering issue might be to blame. And, true, Maman hadn’t been responsive since they brought her back to House Phel. Still, Alise had spent every spare waking hour—and more than a few sleeping ones, when she couldn’t withstand the pull of exhaustion any longer—at her mother’s bedside. Alise had tried everything she could think of to reach her mother, to seek out the human woman slumbering inside her motionless body.

To no avail. Nothing Alise could think of or do had made any impact.

Nic had called Alise out on it, too, chastising her for tiring herself out and allowing her magic to get “brittle and thin enough to punch a fist through.” Worse, Nic had enlisted a lower-level wizard to illustrate the point, a humiliating demonstration that led to the conversation where everyone convinced Alise—read: informed her in no uncertain terms that she didn’t have a choice—to return to Convocation Academy. Ostensibly she was there to learn what she needed to know to be a proper wizard and not a brittle humbug unable to defend herself.

She was also there as a spy, which made her ignominious slinking back to the scene of the crime slightly shinier. Except that, naturally, she couldn’t tell anyone about it. But at least she’d still be doing her part to help House Phel by sleuthing out the information they needed.

The carriage passed the warded boundary around the academy, a faint buzz of magic the only sign that she’d been recognized and admitted. Gabriel had corresponded via Ratsiel courier with the academy provost, establishing that Alise would be returned as required by the demand sent by the academy, as if she’d been accidentally shoplifted. He’d also set up House Phel as her guardian and the ones paying her tuition, room, and board, now that her furious Papa had disowned her. Not that she cared.

The land around the sprawling academy buildings rolled out lush with late summer, the velvet lawns spreading under the canopies of carefully groomed trees, all kept in prime condition by earth elementals and gardening sprites.

Groups of students gathered here and there, some of them in classes that had moved outdoors, others studying or at leisure, none of them paying any particular attention to the passing of her carriage. Through a gap between buildings, past the quad thronged with more students enjoying the lovely day, the lake showed silver-blue and mirror-still. When Alise had last seen it, the lake had been frozen over and she’d just won the sleigh race for her division. She’d been flushed with victory, proud of her wizarding skills at guiding the air elemental that powered the sleigh, with no idea that she would soon turn her entire life upside-down.

As the carriage swung into the circular drive to stop at the bottom of the grand, wide set of stairs that climbed up to the administration building, which looked like a castle out of a fairytale—a source of pride and simultaneously a point of ridicule among the students, past and present—Alise spotted a lone figure standing rigidly, clearly waiting to greet her.

Her brother, Nander. Oh joy. At least she wouldn’t have to seek him out, as Nic had requested.

She had only one bag, having left most everything behind at school when they’d made their daring escape. Grabbing it from the seat beside her, she stepped out of the carriage. “Hallo, Nander. So sweet of you to greet me personally.”

His already sulky lips turned down into a pout. “It’s Wizard Ferdinand. I deserve proper respect.”

Only fifteen and having manifested as a wizard over a year before, Nander embodied the worst of the adolescent wizard stereotype. Taller than Alise, he hadn’t yet filled out, skinny and knobby-jointed. He’d proudly shorn his black hair to advertise his wizard status, as if anyone at the academy didn’t know, and the buzzcut had the unfortunate effect of making his head look too big for his body. His eyes, once a green as brilliant as Nic’s, had darkened with magic use, but had not yet reached true wizard-black. As a result, they looked a bit muddied, something that surprised her as her own eyes had gone full black within six months of her manifestation.

Nander possessed decently high MP scores, so he should be flowing plenty of magic. Unless he was slacking on his practicums, which was possible. He’d always been on the lazy side, something their papa had lectured him about any number of times. Still, most young wizards couldn’t be restrained from practicing their newfound magic as often as possible.

Alise managed not to smirk at Nander’s pompous attitude, but neither did she oblige him. “To what do I owe the honor, Nander—did you miss me?” She knew he couldn’t have, as they’d seen each other more at home on school holidays than at Convocation Academy.

“Papa instructed me to meet you and pass along this message.” He broke into a shit-eating grin, delighted with this particular errand. “You’re to return to House Elal and face your punishment.”

“Yes, I read the demand letters. As House Phel informed Lord Elal, I will not be returning to the house of my birth.”

“Then you might as well turn around and go back to whatever bog you crawled out of. Our father has no intention of paying for your schooling, not after the disloyalty you’ve displayed. You are no longer an Elal. I’ll be Papa’s heir now.”

With a shrug, she went around him to climb the stairs. “Tell me something I didn’t know. House Phel is picking up the tab, so Lord Elal is free to do all the disinheriting he likes.”

Nander caught her arm, his thin fingers pinching to the bone, a couple of guardian spirits manifesting to block her way. “You have disgraced House Elal,” he hissed. “You and our wretched familiar of a sister. As the next Lord Elal, I intend to see that—”

She shook off his hand and, in the same moment, with scarcely a lick of magic—though she had plenty, as all the familiars at House Phel had insisted on filling up her magic stores as a farewell gift—she banished Nander’s spirits. Not so brittle now.

“Don’t fuck with me, Nander,” Alise said in a pleasant voice she’d learned from Maman. She could tell someone to curl up and die and make it sound like a delightful option. “You’re a long time, and a bucketful of magical skill, away from being Lord Elal. I wouldn’t count your high houses before you inherit them. In the meanwhile, I’m twice the wizard you are, so I suggest you stay out of my face.”

It was petty, but she was aggravated and taking a bit of spiteful action made her feel better, so she summoned a swarm of tiny fire elementals to waft under Nander’s clothes and start pricking him with bitsy flames. They couldn’t do much harm, but the sheer number of them made for vast itchiness. Nander jumped and began frantically scratching at himself. “What did you do?” he demanded.

“Oh.” She widened her eyes in innocence. “Haven’t you learned that one yet?” She tsked loudly, making a show of shaking her head in disappointment. “You really should attend to your practicums.”

“Why should I?” he sneered. “Papa hates you now. More than he hates Nic, which is saying something. I’m his only choice for heir to House Elal and I don’t intend to do anything to screw that up like you two did. I am a loyal son.” He put a sanctimonious hand over his heart while still scratching madly with the other hand, but quickly dropped it. “Thanks for making it easy for me, sis.”

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