“Well, we are going to use it as a metaphor for how to cast. Master Cedric has been saying the same sort of thing for weeks, but evidently your naps were more important.”
I cringed.
“When you cast your magic out, you need to be picturing what you want to create in your mind. The stronger the idea, the better your casting will be. All the lessons we’ve been learning should have shown you how important the senses are. When you cast, you need to be using those to build the projection. You can’t expect to use your magic to create something real if you don’t even understand what that thing you are trying to cast is… What is something you can describe well?”
“Fire.” I felt like a fool for not coming up with anything else. But I couldn’t help it. Fire was the one thing I’d been able to successfully conjure repeatedly. At least now I could see what would happen if I tried without self-mutilation. It would be a nice change.
“How inspired. Now describe it to me.”
“Um, well, it’s hot…It doesn’t really have a taste. When things get burned, there’s a charred flavor…It’s chalky and bitter. It’s soft like a moth’s wings but scalding at the same time. It looks like—” I froze as a thought crossed my mind: like your eyes.
I looked away from Darren. “It looks like the fragmented tips of a red and yellow kite billowing in the wind.”
“You are missing two senses,” Darren said, unperturbed by my haphazard ramblings. “What does it sound like? What do you smell?”
“It sounds like low clapping. It smells repugnant. Sickly-sweet like spun sugar but tinged with smoke.”
“Now, what do you want to do with the fire?” he asked. “What type of casting do you want to perform? Keep in mind it should be simple.”
“What about holding it in my hand? I’ve seen people—”
“Do you want to burn yourself?”
I shook my head.
“Then don’t try to do what you’ve seen others do, their castings are more complicated than they appear. Try lighting a candle instead.”
“Do I actually need a candle?”
“You are a beginner, so yes.” He tossed me a taper.
“How.?” I paused, fully aware that there had been no candle in his hand a second ago.
“Yes, well, I am not a beginner.” Darren exhaled. “Now think back to how you would light a fire naturally. This image you are describing is the flint. You need to focus on its details in your mind. Block out everything except the image you want to cast out. The steel that you strike this ‘flint’ with is your will. That’s the easy part because it is rare for someone to cast something they do not want. If you have desire, you have will.
“It all comes down to those two things: steel and flint. The resulting spark is the physical manifestation of your magic. If you have potential, it should be effortless. If you are struggling, it’s a safe bet you are wasting your time trying to practice magic in the first place.”
I glared at him. “Maybe I struggle because I didn’t have a lifetime of mage tutors like you.”
Darren stared at me. “I never even considered becoming a mage until four years ago. I hardly consider that a ‘lifetime’ of training. The only reason my father relented was because the palace mages insisted he would be a fool to overlook my powers. It wasn’t privilege that got me the training. It was my potential.” Darren narrowed his eyes at me. “You can’t tell me your family wouldn’t have tried harder to get you a tutor if you’d shown a great aptitude for magic.”
I took a deep breath and told myself what Darren had to teach me was more important than mauling the non-heir to death.
Darren was watching me closely and seemed to recognize that I was not going to respond. “Well, it appears you have self-control after all.”
I stayed silent.
The non-heir gestured to the candle. “Now, light the taper.”
This was it. I rolled the candle in my palm, letting its smooth, waxy surface calm my racing nerves. I felt self-conscious with Darren watching me, but I hastily blocked out those thoughts, letting them trickle away until all that remained was a vision of fire. I felt its searing heat in my mind. I saw the sputtering flames. It smelled adversely sweet, and my tongue recoiled at the taste of scalded flesh. I reached further into my mind and heard the sharp sound of crackling flames against wood.
I stared at the candle’s wick with the image of fire concrete in my mind. I imagined the cotton string being embraced by its flames, all of the senses engulfing the candle’s end, a tiny flame sputtering that would carry all of my fire’s features.
Please!
The sting of scalding wax hit me all at once, and I shrieked excitedly. The candle in my hand had a flame protruding from its tip. Wax was spilling over onto my palm, but I couldn’t care less.
“I did it!” I looked to Darren, eyes alight with exhilaration.
“Yes,” he agreed, stepping forward to close the distance between us.
My breath caught.
The prince leaned closer, and I froze, heart beating wildly in my chest.
And then Darren blew out the flame and took a step back. “Now do it again.”