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Carver takes a breath, gaze darkening. “Sit down.” There’s something different about this command. The words pull against my muscles, tissue, bones, and everything in between. A quiver runs through me. My heart hammers against my chest. I swallow around a lump in my throat, hardly daring to breathe.

{Steady,} the voice whispers. It’s not like I planned to run. I’m far too fascinated by their little spat. The magic is so powerful it scares me a little. Carver already made me crawl, what else could he force me to do?

Drake drops to a deep squat before he catches himself, exhaling hard and clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turn white. “Watch it, Carver.”

My tutor hums. “I almost had you.”

Drake, rather than staying in a deep squat for the remainder of our time together, ends up taking his seat, though not before he makes his frustration well known. His annoyance only makes Carver chuckle. The sound is so unexpected from my typically stone-faced tutor that I can’t help marveling at it. While I don’t particularly care for Carver, it’s nice to see Drake taken down a notch or two.

“What am I helping with?” Drake demands.

“I want us to listen,” Carver says with a shrug.

“Not this again,” I grumble. It would make more sense to continue weapons training, but Carver wants to see my magic, and I guess he thinks this meditation will help the affinities come out. I glance at Drake, hoping he’ll support me because, frankly, this is ridiculous, but he’s sitting completely still.

Carver is too.

With a heavy sigh, I join them in this stupid endeavor and try to listen. It’s no surprise that I fail. There’s too much going on, too many people, and I can’t seem to block out any of it. What is surprising is the way Drake and Carver hold each other’s stares through the activity. The hairs on my arms rise as the air around us grows dense, and while I can’t see their magic, from the way my body craves a taste of power, I know with absolute certainty they’re fighting.

I know this just as I know there are exactly fifteen people in the pit, all at least thirty feet away. Or how the doors to exit the pit are partially closed, one propped open and the other shut. Beyond that, my enhanced hearing picks up the students rushing around the quad as they return to their dorms or head off to dinner. Somewhere nearby, two paranorms are yelling at each other, their shouts getting louder and louder.

My jaw clenches even tighter, the muscles between my shoulders pinching and my neck aching. I look at the two mages again and observe their battle, my own hands clenched as all those other noises register. They don’t appear to be affected by any of it. Theirs is a different type of fight, one I’m not sure I’ll ever figure out how to defend against. But as I watch Drake take whatever assault Carver is throwing at him without so much as a flinch or bunched shoulders, I vow right then and there to figure out how.

After an exhausting session of listening, I grab food and take it to my dorm, eating alone while I watch some silly human TV show on my laptop. Somehow my entire body feels more wrung out than when Carver actually makes me spar with him. After I finish dinner, I try to meditate, practicing sitting in silence, but I can’t stop fidgeting. Messing with my hair, wringing my hands, chewing on my lip, forehead wrinkling as thoughts pummel me.

This is so dumb. What’s the point? Is this Carver’s way of torturing me? Agitation digs into my skin. Probably because I’m not making any progress and there’s no way I can pass the Goddess Trial at this rate.

My leg bounces, stomach hollow, even though I’ve eaten plenty for dinner. Every limb is heavy, the weight of the world pressing down on me, crushing and suffocating. Clearly Tweed expects big things from me, otherwise he wouldn’t assign Drake to help as well. My friends all think I’m some ultrapowerful paranorm. I’ve made zero progress in finding Addy, and I foolishly believed it would be easy.

I’ve done nothing but fail at everything I set out to do. Digging my nails into my palm, I try to quiet my mind, to be calm, but there’s too much nervous energy ping-ponging inside of me.

“You can’t even relax, can you?” Carver’s words mock me hours later. What does he know? I can relax. I can chill, be the chillest of the chill. Lying down, I try to count my breaths. One, two, three—what if I’m at the bottom of the rankings? They’re revealed in a few weeks—at the end of October—and if I am at the bottom, I’ll have to move into one of those tiny dorms.

Turn it off, Raina.

Right.

Exhale.

Four, three, two—shit, I forgot to do my paper for History of the Veil.

Inhale.

Come on, brain. You can do this.

Focus.

I will be calm.

What do people do when they meditate? Picture somewhere peaceful? Okay, here we go. I have a quiet mind. A gentle stream trickles by a meadow full of flowers.

What if Addy is happy without me?

“Ugh!!!” I toss a pillow off the bed. I know I should sleep, but it’s pointless when my mind refuses to shut up. I never noticed how much noise lived inside my head until Carver tried to force me to listen. He’s a pain in my ass. With a grumble, I sit up and glare at the wall. This dorm room is unusually suffocating tonight.

Maybe the baths will help.

I haven’t allowed myself to indulge yet, but today, I need it. I wait until midnight, right about the time when the rest of my spire settles down in their rooms for the evening, before grabbing my towel.