Page 137 of The Alchemists

As he braced his hand against the mirror, wishing he could heal himself, he felt the current of Magic around him shift. It whispered his words back to him, in a silent language that lived halfway between thought and emotion.

“Can you heal me?” he whispered back, even though Magic was not a person, an entity to be bidden.

The current hissed in his brain. He could only understand it when he let himself slip out of thought. He focused on his Words, pulling them into him, and warmth blossomed on his side. He watched as the skin softened back to the same color as the rest of him, as the agony dulled into an ache, and then nothing.

That was when he realized the enormity of what had actually happened, how alien it was. If anyone outside his circle found out, he would be burned at the stake.

They were all waiting for him in the atrium. Everyone. The entire tournament, it seemed, had packed itself into the echoing space. Instantly, the Magic fled him. He had already tamped it down, but suddenly he was empty, exhausted. He wanted to find Lily and drag her back to the suite, drink the wine he’d been saving in the event that he won the tournament, and fall asleep by nine.

He scanned the crowd, found her hugging a wall, and made his way toward her. Their eyes found each other a second before his parents found him. Hawthorn Bellarius sauntered over to join them. Desperately, he signaled to Lily. She pressed her back further into the wall.

“Mom, Dad—I didn’t know you were coming. I thought you only came for the finals.”

They didn’t look excited for, or proud of, him. Not that he expected them to.

“Hawthorn said it was quite the set lined up today,” his mother said. Not, “We wouldn’t miss it.”

“What was that, out there, Sebastian?” His father demanded.

“What do you mean?” Seb only partially feigned confusion. There had been so much happening in that half hour that he had no idea which part of it his father was upset about.

“Your magic. Where were your spells? Where are your Words?” His father’s voice pitched up, just slightly, and Seb realized that he was terrified.

“Couldn’t you see?” Seb was incredulous. “There was something wrong with my equipment.”

He wanted to add, “And I still won,” but he didn’t.

“Wrong how?”

“I—I don’t know. It was fine before the bout.”

“You didn’t check it?”

“I did!” His temper flared, and he made a desperate bid to get it in check without resorting to excuses, for which his parents had no patience. “I had to step out and when I got back it was⁠—”

“You stepped out? Before a match?”

Just like that, he wanted to scream.

“My equipment was tampered with,” he said through gritted teeth.

Bellarius stepped in neatly. “Surely you’re not accusing a fellow student.” His smile was thin.

He’s going to do it.

He looked between the adults, feeling like this was a nightmare he couldn’t shake. Then he turned.

“Sebastian!” his mother gasped, but by the time she’d opened her mouth, he’d returned, literally dragging Lily by the arm. He loathed doing this to her, but it was better to do it himself than let a hateful old man do it for him.

“There’s someone I want you to meet. This is my girlfriend, Lily.”

He watched his mother’s face soften in relief, then something approaching genuine pleasure as he pushed Lily forward, as she took in her pretty face, her intelligent eyes, her gender.

“Lily? I’m not sure I’m aware of you. Are you a Cert Year as well?”

It took a minute for it to sink in, in the bright lights of the atrium, for his mother’s graciousness to morph to confusion, and then thinly veiled horror as she first felt, then saw Lily’s curse aura.

“A sophomore,” Lily said through gritted teeth.