The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy by R. T. Kaelin Page A

could simply will the air fibríaal into existence if she wished, but knew that would defeat the point of the exercise, earn a rebuke from Khin, and make her want to take a nap all at once. She was here to learn how to weave the Strands the correct way.
    A cool breeze rushed through the room, flaring the glowing tips of the incense sticks and announcing the arrival of Khin’s air fibríaal. The diminutive, whistling twister of air was invisible to the naked eye, yet Kenders could clearly see the white and silver pattern swirling beside the pair of stone fibríaals.
    With a frustrated sigh, she finished her own Weave and sat, glaring at the four motionless fibríaals. Before she could stop herself, a whispered curse escaped from her lips.
    “Hells.”
    Speaking softly, drawing each word out, Khin said, “An understandable sentiment, but ineloquently conveyed.” It took twice as long for him to say something as it did anyone else. He sat as still as a marble statue, his ice blue eyes studying her. Knowing how this went, she simply held his stare and waited for him to speak.
    Ten, agonizingly long and silent minutes passed as the two stared at one another through the wisps of incense smoke. The near-constant wind outside surged and waned, an atonal harmony filing the room as each new gust worked to find every minuscule seam between the windows and stone.
    Kenders held Khin’s stare, gnawing on the inside of her lip. She was moments from snapping when the aicenai finally stirred.
    “You are learning some patience,” murmured Khin. “Even though it is only surface deep.” He spoke so softly, the whistling of the wind almost drowned him out. “You are a lidded pot of boiling water.”
    Kenders did her best not to react to his perfectly accurate assessment.
    “You may go, now.”
    Her eyes went wide.
    “Pardon?”
    “You may go,” said Khin slowly. “Today’s lesson is over.”
    “That’s it?” exclaimed Kenders. “You made me sit here for hours!”
    “How observant of you to notice.”
    Her irritation flared into determined anger. Glaring at the aicenai, she demanded, “Give me another chance!”
    “No.”
    “No?” repeated Kenders. “You can’t give me one chance and then shove me out the door!”
    Khin’s gaze locked onto hers, his blue eyes burning both cold and hot like the Winter sun. The aicenai might be ancient, but time had not dimmed the intensity of his stare.
    “How many chances will the God of Chaos give you?”
    The question acted like a punch to the gut would to breath, knocking the indignant irritation from her in an instant. She dropped her eyes and stared at her reed mat. Khin had made his point.
    “You have great power,” whispered Khin. “ Incredible power. More than everyone here at the enclave combined. More than every mage I have known.” He paused, a short one for him, before adding, “Yet you lack discipline, concentration, patience.”
    Kenders continued to stare at her mat and did not respond.
    After a quiet moment, Khin asked, “Why did you not unravel my Weaves?”
    Kenders looked up quickly.
    “I…I did not think I was allowed to do that.”
    “Allowed?” inquired Khin. He shook his head. “Will the God of Chaos agree to a set of rules when he or she faces you? Will you determine what is allowed and what is not beforehand?”
    “I…”
    She trailed off, having no idea what she was going to say. She wanted to argue but could not refute a single word Khin had spoken. Sighing, she dropped her head again, her frustration returning in an instant. Khin spent more time playing with her mind than he did teaching her about the Strands.
    Only three turns ago, her mornings were spent helping her mother make the midday meal, or going with her brothers to help their father in the olive groves or vineyards. They were not spent sitting with an aicenai mage, preparing to help lead the charge against the evil Gods of the Cabal.
    She had no idea how she was supposed to do any of