“Damn right I hit you,” she said, shaking the pain from her hand. Busting his nose had hurt, but casting a spell would have been worse. Besides, the chandelier would have stopped it.
“You little canicula,” Kal exclaimed, shoving past the girls. Wiping the blood off, he stood stiffly before her, his fine-textured hair almost floating as he reached through the wards on the room and drew on a ley line.
People fell back. Someone called for security. Trisk’s eyes widened, her attention rising to the huge chandelier as it shifted to a dark purple in response. A faint alarm began chiming.
“I can’t believe you hit me!” Kal said, and as Trisk stared flat-jawed, he spread his clasped hands apart to show a glowing ball of unfocused energy. It was a lot for a lab rat, making Trisk wonder if he’d been tutored on the side.
“Kal, don’t!” Quen shouted, and Kal sneered.
“Dilatare,” Kal said, shoving the technically white, yet still dangerous spell at her.
Hands warming, Trisk yanked a wad of unfocused energy from the nearest ley line to block it.
Quen was faster, and Trisk started when his aura-tainted streak of power struck Kal’s incoming bolt, sending both energies spinning wildly up and into the chandelier. They hit it with a shower of green sparks, and, with a ping that echoed through her hold on the ley line, the huge crystal-and-light chandelier shattered.
People cried out. Trisk cowered, arms over her head as broken crystal rained down on them in a weird chiming clatter of discord and sensation. With a harsh sound, the band quit.
Shouts rose, and the hall exploded into noise. Trisk straightened from her instinctive hunch, the power she’d pulled from the line still glowing between her hands, colored a golden green by her aura. Her lips parted and fear slid between her soul and reason. The eastern representative of the elven enclave stood before them, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. Broken crystal crunched under his dress shoes, and with a gulp, she pushed the energy down and away, letting go of the ley line.
“What happened?” he demanded, and the hall became silent. Faces ringed them: her classmates, their parents, prospective employers. It felt like the third grade all over again, and Trisk was silent. Kal stared malevolently at her, his face smeared with blood and someone’s frilly handkerchief over his mouth. His nose was probably broken, and Trisk stifled a smile of perverse satisfaction that he’d have to get it fixed.
“You know there’s no use of ley lines this close to the city,” the bald man said, a tie pin the only show of his enclave status, but it somehow elevated his suit above the surrounding business attire and colorful cocktail dresses. “That’s why we have the place charmed.” His attention rose to the few crystals still holding. “Or at least we did.”
“It was an accident, Sa’han,” Kal said, using the elven honorific, as he clearly didn’t know the man’s name.
“Accident?” the man echoed. “You’re both too old for this. What happened?”
Trisk said nothing. They’d never believe she hadn’t broken the room-wide charm. She’d been the butt of too many jokes, taking the blame for all of them because to do otherwise would only increase the torment. She had a rep, even if none of it was true.
“Felecia?” the man said, and she started, wondering how he knew her name.
“I, ah, punched him, Sa’han,” she admitted. “I didn’t tap a ley line until he did.”
“And yet the result is the same.” The man regretfully turned to Kal. “Your temper is still getting the better of you, eh, Trenton?”
“She has no right to be here, Sa’han,” Kal said haughtily. “There are only three offers on her table. The center is for the best, not slag.”
Trisk’s eyes narrowed, but he was only saying what they were all thinking. Behind her, she could feel Quen’s slow anger building, but it was too late. His contract was binding.
But the man only handed Kal a spell with which to clean his face. “And your tongue still doesn’t check in with your brain before waggling,” he said as Kal used the very blood from his broken nose to invoke the charm, and, in a wash of aura-tainted magic, his face was clean. “You think she copied her way to her grade average?” the man said, and Kal’s face flashed red. “You are drastically lacking in the art of stealth and misdirection. Your emotions and wants are as clear as a child’s. Learn what you lack or forever be the shadow of potential that you are today.”
Trisk felt herself pale as he turned to her. He could see right through her, all her grand hopes looking like a child’s pretend. “And you need to find out who you are before you bring your house any more shame,” he said, his rebuke hitting her hard.
Her chest hurt, and she dropped her head. In the near distance, the loud voices of Kal’s parents became obvious as they tried to force their way through the circle of people.