The classroom dropped sharply downward; it was small, white amphitheater. And the at the bottom was a circle of wood and green chalkboard. Elettra spotted the professor pacing at the bottom. Professor Stryker was tall and lean with black hair. From where Elettra stood, she could see his piercing green eyes. Elettra sat at the top of the class—away from Stryker’s ability to call her down.
But as soon as Elettra sank down in her seat, she heard Stryker ’s crack across the classroom:
“Miss Tariel!”
Elettra’s heart started in her chest.
“Don’t think that you can hide up in the rafters,” he smiled up at her as he rocked on his heels.
Elettra dared not move: she didn’t want to know what the other students were thinking by looking at them.
“Last term, we looked at dynasties and conflict,” he started writing something down on the board—chalk dust flying around him like snow. “We ended around the end of where the Tariel line begins. The Tariel not being a new line, but rather a line with an unexpectedly powerful origin.”
His eyes turned back up towards Elettra. He lifted his hand and waved her down: “Anytime now, Miss Tariel. There’s no need to worry.”
There was a ripple of murmurings and chuckles as Elettra pushed herself up from her seat. She slowly climbed down the steep descent toward the wooden circle where Professor Stryker stood. And as she approached the professor he held his hands out to her. Elettra hesitated and then lifted her hands and placed them gently in his. She could see in his handsome smile a taunting. Elettra knew from when her parents spoke at the dinner table that the Strykers were loyal to the monarchy:
“A monarchy that feels threatened by even the smallest gust of wind,” her mother sniffed into her soup.
Being a Tariel wasn’t the problem: being far more powerful than most other covens was. And being more powerful made you a spectacle.
Elettra burned under the lights that shown down. She burned under everyone’s gaze, especially Stryker’s. She burned, because of course they expected her to do something dizzyingly spectacular and unexpected; set something on fire with the blink of her eye; send a rush of wind and smoke and lift the entire school into an oblivion; to bring down the stars and the moon to touch and hold; to summon death himself without even speaking a word. To have the name Tariel was to be attached to the dark impossible.
Professor Stryker slipped his hands under the backs of Elettra’s, lifting her palms in the air. Suddenly, electric, violet ribbons started snaking themselves around her fingers. Soon, the currents lifted from her fingers and stretched over their heads. A dark, watery orb formed around their heads, and the longer anyone looked the more they could see images; at first it seemed random, but then Elettra could see her family insignia as well as the insignias of other families; symbols representing magical proprieties and assets that make up the lineage and the whole of the Tariel strength. It was mesmerizing display, and when Stryker dropped Elettra’s hands, the orb disappeared and Elettra felt as though all her energy go with it.
“If you were watching carefully, the Tariel line possesses a strong current from the sage, Saadia,” and suddenly, as though Professor Stryker were pulling out a long, thin, electrical string from an invisible compartment, he began wrapping it around Elettra’s fingers. Elettra could immediately feel how powerful and unstable the string felt between her fingers—she wasn’t experienced in this. And she glanced up at Professor Stryker, hoping he’d take it away.
“Whereas,” Professor Stryker gestured to the students, “an Aster is far more classical, clean. Not as esoteric as the Sages.”
There was a pause, and the only thing Elettra could hear was the buzzing of the unruly current in her hands.
Onyx stood where he sat. Elettra hadn’t even spotted him when she came in.
She felt a cold sweat break over her, and she knew was going to lose the current in her hands: it would either combust right in her face or it would make the whole room cave in. Her arms started to shake. Her hands wobbled.
“Control it, Elettra,” Stryker commanded her, and Elettra realized that everyone had paused to stare at her. Even Onyx was halfway to them and he stopped, watching her hands.
Elettra was silently cursing to herself.
“I’m sure a Banter wouldn’t be too difficult for you, Mr. Aster…” Professor Stryker began slowly, “provided Miss Tariel doesn’t lose her grip.”
Elettra could feel her heartbeat against her ribs as she threw her glance at Professor Stryker. But she had to keep her eyes on the current.
She couldn’t lose control.
Her own power. The Tariel power. What sort of witch would she be if she couldn’t even keep a current steady.
A wicked little smile creeped up the sides of Onyx’s lips: he was enjoying watching her struggle. What Elettra thought was hesitation was Onyx calculating his next steps. But he wouldn’t need to do much.
“Ready?” Professor Stryker glanced at Elettra.
At this point, her lips were pressed together as sweat trickled down her cheeks.
Onyx positioned herself opposite her.
Elettra hated Banters—it was light combative display of power. It was more dancing than fighting.
“Remember,” Stryker lifted a finger to each side, “the power is in the movement, in the art of conjuring, and timing.”
“Like dancing,” Elettra said through gritted teeth, though, it sounded more like a curse than anything else.
“Miss Tariel is correct,” Stryker paused, then smiled, “let’s hope her Banter is steadier than her current.”
Elettra swallowed as Onyx opened his arms in a single, balletic movement. Elettra mimicked the move—a basic move that every child learns as they’re conjuring their magic. But Elettra was shakey as the current elongated in her hands crackled as it moved.
Stryker wanted to show the class how the current worked. Elettra had to let Onyx go first. His clean, “classical” movement and power against her erratic, chaotic, sage-current. His next movement was heavy as though he were throwing a bucket of water or air toward her, and all Elettra could muster was to push her hands forward, to block his movement. The current surrounded the current of air in a green, electric bubble. The current contained Onyx’s invisible power. Elettra finally dropped her arms as the whole room stared at the electric bubble. She breathed. But no sooner did Elettra exhale than she was knocked back and stumbled to the ground.
“The point of Banter, Miss Tariel,” Stryker clasped his hands behind him and took a step toward her, “is to keep moving, even when there’s power in the center.”
The bubble disappeared, but when Elettra looked over at Onyx somehow the electric bubble had shrunk, and Onyx held it in the palm of his hand.
“Once you release a current like that, it remains neutral,” then Stryker turned back to the class, “unlike most power, the sages’ currents can be used against the caster once released. They must be tethered.”
He glanced back at Elettra with that last word. But Elettra kept her head bent as she scrambled to her feet and brushed the dust off her skirt. But when Professor Stryker barked if she understood, Elettra couldn’t help lifting her eyes, startled. And when she did, she could very clearly see at the top of the class a blonde face. His entire body leaning against the doorframe, watching her. Locke Amory was too far away for her to make out his expression. But Onyx was close enough for her to hear: “Have you learned your lesson now?”
