stand to eat an entire bucket of soup, bag o’ bones. C’mon, chop faster.”
Landyn gave a defeated sigh and shook his head. He nudged his shoulder against Connor’s, and Connor let himself lean in.
T HAT NIGHT , when Connor sat down to write his weekly letter to his father, he stared at the paper for a long time. Then he left it sitting blank on his desk.
It didn’t matter. His father never answered.
I T TOOK nearly two months and thirteen late-night batches of soup before Landyn deemed them prepared for a full conjuring.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” Connor asked. “You shouldn’t feel bad when my dragon is ten times better than yours.”
“I won’t. I’ll go first, then, shall I? I’d hate to have to follow your vastly superior spellcasting.”
“By all means,” Connor said magnanimously, grinning and waving his hands in a go-ahead gesture.
Landyn stood in the middle of the room for a long time with his shoulders relaxed and his arms loose at his sides, drawing up his magic for the spell. He closed his eyes, inhaled loudly, and from one second to the next his body went rigid. Connor could feel magic pulse across his skin.
Landyn’s face was calm in contrast to the way his fists balled tightly at his sides. His dark eyelashes brushed lightly against his cheeks, and Connor wondered if this was how Landyn looked when he was sleeping: soft, touchable, and somehow sweet.
Then Landyn opened his eyes, and Connor sucked in a deep, startled breath.
Landyn’s eyes were solid blue with no white left at all; they blazed an eerie electric color, like the sea creatures that glowed in the darkest depths, and when he smiled it was like a shark.
His hands wove complicated gestures as he muttered spellwords, his brow furrowed in concentration. Words dripped off his tongue and puddled in Connor’s ears, making his head feel thick, like he was underwater.
A stream of crackling blue light erupted from Landyn’s hands with a roar like waves crashing and formed a glowing ball in the center of the room.
The ball morphed and grew until a twelve-headed hydra towered over Connor, its heads whipping back and forth with mouths gaping open to reveal double rows of needle teeth.
“Blazes!” Connor cried, scrambling back and tipping over his chair. He hit the floor hard with a grunt and stared up at the hydra with his heartbeat pounding frantically in his ears. “How the fiery pits did you manage that?”
“This old thing?” Landyn said blandly and crossed his arms over his chest. He arched an eyebrow over his eerie, glowing eyes. “Still think yours is bigger?”
Connor couldn’t stop the strangled burst of laughter as he stared at the massive creature in awe. The water that formed the hydra’s body looked solid as stone, but see-through, like blue crystal. Bubbles floated upward in lazy streams inside it. “By the Stones! Landyn, you dark horse!”
“That’s dark hippocampus, thank you,” Landyn said with a sniff, then grinned, wild and bright. “My mother is a King’s Mage, Connor. My father sits on the Elemental Council. If you’d bothered to pay attention to anyone other than yourself for more than a minute, you might have guessed that I was a bit more than a third level.”
“Blazes,” Connor breathed again, staring up at the creature. Landyn’s conjuring made the water over its eyes ripple periodically, as though it were blinking. “Roast me and call me well done,” Connor continued, pulling himself to his feet. “Maybe we won’t fail the Trial.”
Landyn gave a huff and uncrossed his arms. “I showed you mine, Roth. Now it’s your turn to impress.”
“Believe me, I can impress,” Connor said, pitching his voice to something raunchier. “I can impress all night long.”
Landyn coughed and turned his head, his cheeks flushing in a way that made Connor feel giddy. “Then for the Gods’ sake, get on with it. You do love the sound of your own voice.”
“I
Landyn gave a defeated sigh and shook his head. He nudged his shoulder against Connor’s, and Connor let himself lean in.
T HAT NIGHT , when Connor sat down to write his weekly letter to his father, he stared at the paper for a long time. Then he left it sitting blank on his desk.
It didn’t matter. His father never answered.
I T TOOK nearly two months and thirteen late-night batches of soup before Landyn deemed them prepared for a full conjuring.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” Connor asked. “You shouldn’t feel bad when my dragon is ten times better than yours.”
“I won’t. I’ll go first, then, shall I? I’d hate to have to follow your vastly superior spellcasting.”
“By all means,” Connor said magnanimously, grinning and waving his hands in a go-ahead gesture.
Landyn stood in the middle of the room for a long time with his shoulders relaxed and his arms loose at his sides, drawing up his magic for the spell. He closed his eyes, inhaled loudly, and from one second to the next his body went rigid. Connor could feel magic pulse across his skin.
Landyn’s face was calm in contrast to the way his fists balled tightly at his sides. His dark eyelashes brushed lightly against his cheeks, and Connor wondered if this was how Landyn looked when he was sleeping: soft, touchable, and somehow sweet.
Then Landyn opened his eyes, and Connor sucked in a deep, startled breath.
Landyn’s eyes were solid blue with no white left at all; they blazed an eerie electric color, like the sea creatures that glowed in the darkest depths, and when he smiled it was like a shark.
His hands wove complicated gestures as he muttered spellwords, his brow furrowed in concentration. Words dripped off his tongue and puddled in Connor’s ears, making his head feel thick, like he was underwater.
A stream of crackling blue light erupted from Landyn’s hands with a roar like waves crashing and formed a glowing ball in the center of the room.
The ball morphed and grew until a twelve-headed hydra towered over Connor, its heads whipping back and forth with mouths gaping open to reveal double rows of needle teeth.
“Blazes!” Connor cried, scrambling back and tipping over his chair. He hit the floor hard with a grunt and stared up at the hydra with his heartbeat pounding frantically in his ears. “How the fiery pits did you manage that?”
“This old thing?” Landyn said blandly and crossed his arms over his chest. He arched an eyebrow over his eerie, glowing eyes. “Still think yours is bigger?”
Connor couldn’t stop the strangled burst of laughter as he stared at the massive creature in awe. The water that formed the hydra’s body looked solid as stone, but see-through, like blue crystal. Bubbles floated upward in lazy streams inside it. “By the Stones! Landyn, you dark horse!”
“That’s dark hippocampus, thank you,” Landyn said with a sniff, then grinned, wild and bright. “My mother is a King’s Mage, Connor. My father sits on the Elemental Council. If you’d bothered to pay attention to anyone other than yourself for more than a minute, you might have guessed that I was a bit more than a third level.”
“Blazes,” Connor breathed again, staring up at the creature. Landyn’s conjuring made the water over its eyes ripple periodically, as though it were blinking. “Roast me and call me well done,” Connor continued, pulling himself to his feet. “Maybe we won’t fail the Trial.”
Landyn gave a huff and uncrossed his arms. “I showed you mine, Roth. Now it’s your turn to impress.”
“Believe me, I can impress,” Connor said, pitching his voice to something raunchier. “I can impress all night long.”
Landyn coughed and turned his head, his cheeks flushing in a way that made Connor feel giddy. “Then for the Gods’ sake, get on with it. You do love the sound of your own voice.”
“I
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