Recipe for Magic (8 page)

It took Landyn longer than expected to arrive, and when he walked into the room, Connor knew immediately that something was wrong. The temperature dropped so fast that the fire died with a violent hiss and the logs glittered instantly with frost.

“Landyn?” Connor said warily, his breath fogging in front of him.

Their eyes locked, and Connor nearly recoiled at the coldness in Landyn’s gaze.

“Connor,” Landyn said. “I think this has gone on long enough, don’t you?”

“What?”

“This,” Landyn said, gesturing between them, his mouth a sharp sneer. “It’s the night before the Trial, and you still haven’t mastered your barrier spell. Your magic is sloppy. I can’t show up with you for the Trial. I might as well do it on my own.”

Connor’s blood felt thick and sluggish; he could feel his pulse pounding in his neck. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I can’t believe you turned out to be such a disappointment, and I’m not going to let you drag me down with you,” Landyn said.

The words hit Connor like daggers. “Landyn, what’s wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Landyn said. His smile was like a thin sheet of ice on a pond, ready to crack with the slightest pressure. “And there’s everything wrong with you. You must think I’m a fool. I certainly feel like one. I can’t believe I fell for— It doesn’t matter. You want out, fine. I don’t need you. I’ll do the Trial myself.”

Connor’s brows furrowed in confusion as he began to grow angry. “Hold on, I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the worst part,” Landyn said bitterly. “You honestly don’t think you did anything wrong. This is how you live your life. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’re as arrogant and entitled as I always suspected.”

“Listen, I don’t know what your problem is, if this is just nerves before the Trial or what, but you’re crossing a line, Landyn.”

“
I’m
crossing a line?” Landyn laughed shrilly. “You’re a worthless mage, you have an appalling lack of precision and control in your spellcasting, and you can’t even do a barrier spell correctly.”

The words struck like blows. “I’m not worthless!” Connor said, his temper flaring. “I’m worth ten of you. What do you have that I don’t?”

“Intelligence? A sense of decency? I could go on.”

“I think you’ve said enough. You’re a piece of work, Glendower. No wonder you never had any friends.”

“Damn you to the deepest sea!” Landyn said. He was blinking hard. “I thought I had
you
!”

“Well, you don’t,” Connor said with barely controlled rage. “Not anymore.” He stomped out of the room and made sure to slam the door behind him.

When he looked back, the door had frozen over in a thick sheet of ice, and water rushed out from underneath, filling the hall with the salt smell of the ocean.

Or maybe those were the tears he scrubbed off his cheeks.

A
FTER
A
miserable, sleepless night that left him red-eyed and exhausted, Connor sat huddled in a large chair in the common room the next morning, feeling blackened inside. He’d piled blankets and pillows around himself in a warm, comfortable nest that hid him from prying eyes. Everyone had gone to the Trial and the common room was empty; that suited Connor just fine. He wanted to wallow in peace.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Landyn’s face and remembered the flinch as his barbed words hit home.

He didn’t know why Landyn had turned on him, but it made his stomach turn to think that Landyn had never cared. That what he’d thought they’d shared had never been important to Landyn at all. Landyn had decided that Connor wasn’t good enough.

Connor alternated between anger and anguish. He wanted to tell Landyn to take a long walk off a short volcano ridge, but he also wanted to grab Landyn and shake him and ask what went wrong.

A failure. That’s what he was. The Gloomwood was looking more and more like his best option.

The slam of a bedroom door down the hall made him hunch farther into the blankets.

“Come on, we’re going to be late. Your hair looks fine. Stones, Elisa, get a move on.”

“Shut up, Dugan,” Elisa said. Connor knew her well enough to envision the sneer and hair fluff that followed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself ordering me around. If it weren’t for me, none of this would have worked.”

He heard their rapid footsteps approaching.

“You talked to him?”

“Yes. You should have seen his face when I cornered him to apologize after he saw us kissing,” Elisa said. “He was completely crushed. It was almost adorable.”

Connor’s eyes narrowed as he heard Dugan laugh meanly. “I’ll bet,” Dugan said. “You made that kiss look pretty convincing. Even I was jealous.”

“Oh,
Landyn
,” Elisa trilled mockingly. “It just
happened
. I’m sorry you had to find out that way, but Connor and I care about each other
so much
. We belong together. You heard him. You want what’s best for him, don’t you?”

Dugan guffawed. “What an idiot. I can’t believe he fell for it.”

“As if I’d risk them showing us up at the Trial. We’ll do their battling dragons better than they ever could.”

Connor stayed as still and silent as possible until he heard the outer door bang shut. Then he let out a whooshing breath. He scrubbed a hand over his face and found his hand was trembling.

Everything about the fight suddenly made sense: Landyn’s obvious pain, his venomous words, his furious anger. He thought Connor had traded him out for Elisa.

Connor rubbed at the ache throbbing deep in his chest.
Landyn
. Landyn, who was right now alone at the Trial, who’d fail and have all his plans for using his magic to help others crumble to ash.

Connor had to help him. He leapt from the chair, tossing the blankets aside. They needed to show the Archmages how they used their magic to work together. They hadn’t had time to prepare their conjuring, but Connor knew one thing they were perfect at doing together.

H
E
RACED
into the arena just as Landyn stepped onto the dais in front of the Archmages. Landyn’s shoulders were slumped. His face had a pale, defeated cast and bruised circles hung under his tired eyes.

“Where is your Paired?” Archmage Roumin intoned with a grave frown on her dark face. Under her hat, her black, silver-streaked hair was pulled back in tight braids and looped over her shoulder.

“I don’t have one,” Landyn said, his voice small and hollow. “I’m alone.”

“No, he’s not! I’m here!” Connor shouted, knocking people out of the way as he pushed through the crowd. His supplies banged against his legs as he took the stairs up to the platform two at a time, and he winced at the bruises he could already feel forming on his shins and thighs.

The heavy iron pot gave an echoing clang as he set it down on the table, and he heaved the sack of vegetables down next to it with a dull thud.

“What are you—” Landyn’s eyes widened in recognition.

“I’m with you, not Elisa,” Connor panted. He thought he might look a little wild, so he quickly smoothed a hand over his head and took a deep gulp of air. “You have to believe me. It isn’t what you thought, it was a trick. Landyn, I want you. We do this together, right?”

Landyn stared at him for a long moment, and Connor held his breath as the world narrowed to Landyn in front of him, looking heartbroken and unsure.

Then, finally, those thin lips curved into a familiar smirk that had Connor’s heart swooping with joy.

“I did skip breakfast,” Landyn said slowly.

Connor let out a rush of relieved laughter. “Why do I always have to remind you to eat?”

He chanced a step closer, and Landyn met him halfway, reaching for his hand and twining their fingers together, their Pairing Sigils touching and sending the familiar zing of magic up his arm. “Ready to completely underwhelm six of the most powerful mages alive?”

Landyn laughed and squeezed his hand. “Yes, let’s. I’m rather hungry.”

“I’ll chop, you handle the water.”

“You didn’t prepare the vegetables?”

“I was in a rush,” Connor said. “Took longer than I thought to get my head out of my ass.”

“Then I’ll chop, too.” Landyn smiled at him, his real smile, the one that made Connor think of warm firelight. Then Landyn’s mouth firmed and a determined look settled over his face. He darted in and pressed a quick, closemouthed kiss to Connor’s lips.

“Do not burn the soup,” Landyn said seriously. Then his mouth twitched at the corners, and Connor couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed across his face.

He grabbed Landyn and yanked him close, putting one arm under his shoulders and the other at the small of his back, and dipped Landyn toward the ground before placing a smacking kiss on his mouth. He made sure to bite at Landyn’s lower lip as he pulled away. “Don’t add too much salt,” he whispered against Landyn’s lips.

“You’re a barbarian,” Landyn whispered back, his fingers gripping Connor’s arms, and ducked his face against Connor’s neck. Connor could feel the curve of Landyn’s smile.

“Ahem” came a creaking voice. “Young men, are you thusly prepared for the Trial to commence?”

They scrambled apart and attempted to make themselves presentable.

Thank blazes for concealing robes
, Connor thought. “Yes, Archmages,” he said loudly. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he caught two of them giving each other knowing looks.

“And what will you show us to prove your understanding of magic?” asked Archmage Roumin, her dark eyes assessing.

“Soup,” Connor said. He looked at Landyn and linked their hands together, Pairing Sigils pressed tight.

There was a long pause from the Archmages.

“Well,” said Archmage Graylin, “I believe that is a first.”

“Yes,” agreed Archmage Yzri. “An unusual way to demonstrate your understanding.”

“Very,” said Archmage Bruichee, steepling her fingers under her chin. “I, for one, am happy not to be faced with yet another set of dueling beasts. It does get tedious.” She flicked her gaze to the side, and Connor followed the look to find Elisa and Dugan standing red-faced in matching white robes at the front of the crowd.

Archmage Graylin tutted. “Indeed. Especially when the dueling in question is altogether uninspired. What these young lads propose shows a certain imagination that I find lacking in the young mages we’ve seen so far today.”

Elisa and Dugan went, if possible, even redder.

Connor nudged Landyn and tipped his chin toward the crowd.

Landyn’s lips twitched in the tiniest smirk. “Elisa and Dugan took their turn just before you arrived,” he whispered. “Conjured an air battle between two feathered dragons. Archmage Yzri fell asleep in the middle and Elisa got so flustered she couldn’t hold her dragon’s shape. It looked like a mangy weasel. They barely passed.”

“Sorry I missed it,” Connor said, grinning.

“Young men,” Archmage Roumin’s voice rang out, the sound causing everyone to fall silent. “Give us your statement.”

Connor and Landyn exchanged a nervous glance. “The Oracle Paired us together,” Connor said. “A fire mage and a water mage. At first we wanted to impress you with a grand demonstration but—but magic isn’t always about what makes the biggest statement or who’s the most powerful.”

Connor squeezed Landyn’s hand and felt him squeeze back. “Even the most opposite magics can be complementary, and the best magics work with each other, not against each other.”

Laughter rippled through the air like quicksilver, and by the startled expressions on everyone’s face, this time Connor wasn’t the only one who heard it.

You have learned well, Connor Roth. And you, Landyn Glendower. You have passed your Trial. Your future together begins now. You will do great things. Great things.

There was a rush of wind that nearly bowled them over and sent the Archmages’ tall hats tumbling across the dais.

“That bloody Oracle,” Archmage Graylin muttered, patting his windblown hair. “You’re Roth’s boy, aren’t you?”

“And that’s Gwenneth’s son, the skinny one there.”

“Ah. Now it makes perfect sense.”

Connor and Landyn raised an eyebrow at each other. It did?

“How long will the soup take?” asked Archmage Yzri, rubbing his large belly through his white robes. “You’ve no idea how famished we get after overseeing the Trial all day.”

“Coming right up,” Connor said. “Landyn?”

Landyn grinned at him. “Ready when you are. You know,” he whispered to Connor, “when this is done, we should visit the practice room.”

“Why? It’s over! We don’t have to practice anymore.”

Landyn gave him a look that was hotter than anything Connor could conjure. “Then how should we make use of our private room?”

Connor’s face heated in response. “You call me the barbarian. How am I going to concentrate with that kind of distraction?”

Landyn hummed as their fingers brushed when he reached across Connor to grab the pot. “Don’t ask me. You’re the expert on distractions. I’m expecting you to be a very thorough instructor.” Landyn paused and said, very quietly, “Me too, you know. I’m with you.” Then he looked up at Connor, blue light dancing in his eyes, and smiled.

Great things
, Connor thought, his heart full of magic.

About the Author

A
GATHA
B
IRD
grew up in sunny, swampy Florida where she still lives with two ridiculously named cats. She told fibs when she was a kid, but now she tells stories. (Plus storyteller sounds way better than professional liar.) She subsists on a steady diet of sunflower seeds, tea, books, and terrible puns. Libraries are her natural habitat, and she reaches her full power once a year on Halloween. She believes in wereyorkies, the full moon, and true romance. She loves monsters, magic, bad guys, and happy endings, preferably all in one story. She thinks frog princes are totally overdone, so she stares a little too longingly at alligators. One has yet to stare longingly back.