Recipe for Magic (3 page)

I won’t be tied to a failure
.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

“An elemental battle,” Landyn said. He seemed startled, like he’d expected Connor to put up more of a fight. “Our powers are opposing elements. We could use that to our advantage.”

Connor felt a small bud blossom in the scorched earth of his hope. “How so?”

“Can you conjure illusions? Creatures made of fire?”

“Yes,” Connor said, that cautious bud sprouting leaves. “Can you conjure creatures too?”

“Practically since birth,” Landyn said, waving a dismissive hand. Connor was a bit skeptical, since that kind of magic required precise control and a certain degree of power, but perhaps Landyn could manage something small. “If we conjured a creature from each of our elements, we could have them battle each other. It would look impressive. I was thinking of using dragons.”

Connor could already picture it: one small dragon, blue and sinuous, spitting streams of water; another dragon huge and fierce, breathing gouts of flame.

“Which one would win?” Connor asked suspiciously. “I want mine to win.”

“Sweet merciful rain!” Landyn said, throwing his hands in the air. “Is that all you care about?”

“I want mine to win,” Connor repeated stubbornly. “It’ll probably be bigger than yours anyway.”

“Fine, yours can win. Your honor will be restored, and you will reign as Lord High Mage of the school once more.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your robes in a twist. One of us has to win. You’re only mad that I called it first.”

“Yes, I’ll weep for days. Lunch is nearly over. Do you want to meet up and practice after last class? You have Divination, don’t you?”

Connor squinted. How did Landyn know that? “Yeah,” he said. “I don’t know, maybe. There’s a tournament tonight.”

“Ah, yes,” Landyn said. “Pointless displays of power by you and the other arrogant braying jackasses.”

“The tournaments help us hone our abilities. You could join in… if you had any real power.”

“You wound me,” Landyn said, standing and gathering his tray. “I’ll be in the arena if you decide you’d like to do some spellwork.”

He hesitated and leaned forward, putting his hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I’m sure, whatever happened with your friends, that it will all blow over. They’re shallow people with short attention spans.”

Connor snorted. “Thanks. Now get your hand off me before I burn it off.”

“Do it and I’ll make it look like you wet yourself.”

Connor shot Landyn a crooked grin, feeling strangely better. “You might not be so bad, Glendower.”

“You remain entirely terrible,” Landyn replied and squeezed Connor’s shoulder before he left.

C
ONNOR
FOUND
Landyn in the library later that night. “You said you’d be in the arena.”

“I was there for a while,” Landyn said, marking his place in his book before looking up at Connor. “And then I— What in the
nine seas
happened to you?”

Connor flopped down on the chair across from Landyn. “I was at the tournament.”

Landyn looked him up and down. “Is this where you tell me that I should see the other guy?”

“No,” Connor said. “I am the other guy.”

“Ah. So the scorched sleeves?”

“Errant fire spell.”

“And the soggy robes?”

“My dueling partner accidentally threw his whirlpool spell at me instead of the other team. And,” he continued before Landyn could ask, “the hair is from a wind spell and the dirt is from a quicksand spell. All completely accidental.”

Landyn sat back, the corners of his mouth twitching. “What clumsy dueling partners you had.”

“It’s not funny, marshbrain.”

“Believe me, it’s a little funny.”

Connor shifted in his seat and hissed as it pulled at the rapidly forming bruises on his ribs.

Landyn’s expression changed. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine. Dugan snuck a boulder spell at me while I was distracted.”

“You’re not supposed to duel with spells like that!”

“Relax,” Connor said, rolling his eyes. “I know it’d be high level for you, but I can usually melt any rocks before they hit me.”

Landyn looked at the ceiling and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Stars save us from displays of machismo. I take it you’re done with tournaments for the time being?”

Connor lowered his gaze to the table and picked at a notch in the wood with the edge of his thumbnail. “I thought maybe we could work on that idea of yours.”

“Did you?” Landyn asked, raising his eyebrows until they nearly touched the light brown hair that fell over his forehead. The smirk flickered back to life on his face.

Smirking suited him, Connor thought. Landyn had a sharp face and thin lips that perpetually curled at the corners. He seemed to be waiting for something from Connor, his smirk still firmly in place.

“Look,” Connor huffed. “You don’t want to fail. I don’t want to fail. We don’t need to be friends, and I know we don’t like each other, but we can work together until the Trial is over.”

“Of course,” Landyn said, his voice crisp. His blue eyes went cool as lake water. “We’ll keep it professional. How ridiculous to think we could be friends.”

Regret tickled the back of Connor’s throat, and he fought the urge to apologize and bring the warmth back to Landyn’s eyes. Connor’s father had always said apologies meant you’d been wrong, and if you admitted to being wrong, you admitted to every other kind of weakness.

“You mentioned dragons?” Connor said instead, wondering why it felt like he’d swallowed a boulder spell. “We might as well get started with this whole ordeal.”

Landyn closed his book with a snap and stood. “I did. But I’m turning in for the night. We can begin this
ordeal
some other time.” Then, before Connor had a chance to reply, Landyn stepped around the table and strode away between the bookshelves, quickly disappearing from view.

Connor smacked his palm against the table, leaving a scorch mark shaped like a handprint, and sat back in his seat, blowing out a huff of air that lifted the dark curls from his forehead. The Pairing Sigil throbbed in his hand.

“That went well,” he said.

For the second night, he dreamed of drowning in turbulent water.

T
HINGS
DIDN
’
T
improve the next day. He thought if Elisa had time to sleep on it, she’d realize that she was blowing this out of proportion. He got to his first class early and sat down in his usual spot, watching as students filed in.

When Elisa entered plastered to Dugan’s side, Connor’s stomach gave an unpleasant roll. “Hey!” Connor said, pasting on a smile. They looked at Connor; then Elisa went up on her toes to whisper something in Dugan’s ear that made him laugh, and they walked right past Connor’s seat without a word.

He didn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms, but he deserved more than being tossed aside like soiled robes. He and Elisa hadn’t always agreed on everything—and their romance wasn’t going to be the basis for any ballads—but Connor had thought they were friends. They’d planned a future together. Connor thought that even Dugan, who had mostly been Connor’s rival since first year, would still have his back when it came down to it.

He was disappointed in himself for not seeing it. Elisa only cared about him until he was no longer useful, and Dugan was all too eager to take Connor’s place.

Connor didn’t try to talk to them at lunch. He stood by an empty table near the door and wolfed down his food, watching them talk and laugh as though nothing were wrong. He dumped his tray and went in search of the Oracle.

He ran into Headmaster Relvin on his way.

“Connor, my boy!” the headmaster said, his voice bright and brittle. “How are you getting on? Worked things out with young Landyn?”

“Sure,” Connor said, fidgeting. The entrance to the Oracle’s chambers lay a hundred feet down the hall where two Sacreds, the Oracle’s attendants, stood guard.

Despite Landyn’s mother’s warnings, Connor didn’t think it would be a big deal for him to speak with the Oracle. The Sacred Mages liked to drone on about the Oracle and its mystical powers and how it was an ancient creature with whom young mages should not trifle, but the Sacreds smelled like flower petals and spiced wine, and Connor didn’t take them very seriously. His father had always said that if a mage wanted an easy life, they became a monk. The Sacreds only had to work one day a year on Pairing Day.

There probably wasn’t any great trick to speaking with the Oracle, anyway. After all, Connor had managed it just fine at his Pairing.

“Wonderful! I trust you’ll inform your father. I’m sure he will be eager to hear it.” The headmaster clapped Connor on the shoulder. “Your father was very concerned about you.”

“Yes,” Connor said, forcing himself not to look at the Oracle’s door and make the headmaster suspicious. “He’s always concerned about how I’m doing. I write him a letter every week to keep him updated on my progress.”

Headmaster Relvin’s smile slipped uncertainly. “Ah, well. You are—you seem to be doing just fine, my boy, all things considered. Now, lunch is nearly over, isn’t it? You should be heading to class.”

Stones
, Connor thought. How was he going to divert the headmaster’s attention? He needed to talk to the Oracle today before he got even one day closer to the Trial, public humiliation, and agonizing failure. He’d be lucky if they let him sell charms on the street corner in the Capitol when this was over.

Then he had an idea. “I talked to Mage Zrivestri about that already, Headmaster. She said it was all right for me to skip Advanced Runes so that Landyn and I would have time to meet. Our schedules are so hectic. And I promised my father I’d update him on my progress as soon as possible. Unless,” Connor continued, raising his eyebrows, “you think I should tell my father that you believe Advanced Runes is more important than the Trial.”

“Not at all!” the headmaster said. His big, round face flushed behind his beard. “Such an unusual Pairing deserves special consideration. You run right along to your meeting. Give my highest regards to your father when you write.”

Connor nodded. “Of course, sir. I’ll be sure to let him know how accommodating you’ve been.”

The headmaster beamed at him.

“Well,” Connor hedged. “I’d better get going.”

“Right you are,” the headmaster said. “Shall I walk with you? I should speak with Landyn about your progress—”

“No!” Connor said a bit too forcefully. The headmaster appeared taken aback. “I mean, you don’t need to trouble yourself. We haven’t had much time together, so we’re still working on things. I’ll be sure to let you know about our progress, sir. You have far more important things to do, managing the school and checking up on the students.”

“Yes, but—”

“They’re serving iceberry tarts in the dining hall today,” Connor added. “And lunch is nearly over.”

Headmaster Relvin’s watery old eyes lit up with interest. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I should check in on the other students in the dining hall. Always good to make an appearance. It’s the headmaster’s duty to be available to his students.”

Connor nodded encouragingly and began to edge away. “Absolutely. Thank you, Headmaster. You’re a role model for us all.”

He winced. That was laying it on a bit thick.

Headmaster Relvin eyed Connor suspiciously, but Connor knew nothing short of a Great Beast attack would keep the man from iceberry tarts, and sure enough, the headmaster only said, “Well, have fun, then.”

Connor gave the headmaster another big smile and nodded enthusiastically. Then he turned and walked down the hall right past the Oracle’s door and around the corner.

He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath, then counted in his head until five minutes had passed before peering around the corner. The hallway was deserted except for the two Sacreds, who were standing together and looked to be in conversation. Their black robes seemed to blend into one another.

Connor squared his shoulders and headed down the hall to the Oracle’s door, stopping in front of the Sacreds. “Hello,” he said. “I’m here to see the Oracle.”

The Sacreds, an old man and an old woman, gave him an unimpressed look.

“I have business with the Oracle,” Connor tried.

The old woman glanced at her companion. “Not at this time,” she said in a voice like rusted door hinges.

“I don’t think you understand,” Connor said. “I’m Connor Roth.”

The old woman narrowed her eyes, and her face folded into a river of wrinkles. “I understand. And you must wait your turn.”

“My turn?” He finally realized he could hear a voice coming from inside the Oracle’s room. It was a very familiar voice.

“Please, surely this is a mistake!” he heard Landyn say. “You have to give me a new partner!”

Even though that was the reason Connor had come to speak with the Oracle, he couldn’t help the tiny pang of hurt. It seemed no one wanted him these days.

There was a pause. “I apologize. I did not mean to make it sound like an order.”

Another pause, this one longer.

“Destined?” Landyn choked out. “You can’t be serious. That makes no sense. He barely even— Overcome my
emotions
? How can I?”

Connor took a step back, hot embarrassment flooding his cheeks. He didn’t realize Landyn hated him that much. The Sacreds gave him pitying looks, and the man said, “What’s done is done. The Oracle’s will cannot be swayed.”

“I don’t understand,” Landyn continued behind the door, his voice rising. “How will being Paired with him help me get over— Please! Anyone but him.” Landyn sounded close to tears, and the desperation in his voice made Connor’s eyes prick in sympathy.

It didn’t make sense for the Oracle to Pair them if Landyn hated him so much. Why doom them to failure from the beginning? Maybe this really was a punishment for Connor; he should never have talked back to the Oracle. If that were the case, it didn’t seem fair for Landyn to suffer with him.

“Never mind,” Connor muttered, backing away hastily. “I’ll seek the Oracle another time.”