Air Awakens - Kova Elise (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений .TXT) 📗

He stopped laughing and stared at her. She paused, it was the first time she used his name without title. After a moment he grinned and stood.

“Put it down, I want to see something.” He held out his hand to her.

“You’re not going to push me off a roof again, are you?” Vhalla instantly wished her tone had been more jovial and less flat.

An unusual mix of emotions crossed his face, and his hand relaxed a little before falling to his side. “You said that you would accept me as your teacher,” he spoke softly. She inwardly cursed breaking the lighter moment. “I want that honor again.”

He extended his hand back to her and waited. Vhalla swallowed hard. Prince or not, he was asking too much of her in one day. She avoided his intense stare.

“You have to earn it.” Vhalla didn’t what else to say. She had trusted him, to lead her, to teach her, and he broke that trust. It wasn’t as though it was something she could simply start again on command.

“That is acceptable,” was his surprising remark. She looked back to him; he still stood there hopefully expectant.

Vhalla took his hand. His skin was soft and his palm warm, it almost tingled beneath the pads of her fingers. But she had little more than a moment to reflect on that as he pulled her to her feet and out of the gazebo, back into the autumn day.

“How do you feel?” he asked, leading her into the garden.

“Well enough. Larel stopped in this morning and checked up on me. She said I’m healing well,” she reported.

Aldrik glanced at her. “If something goes wrong, tell me. I could control your healing when you were in the Tower, but now that you are back in the castle proper it is harder for me to oversee directly.” He kept his long strides in pace with her.

“Control over...my healing?” Vhalla considered the implications of this.

He nodded, stopping. They arrived at a small pond.

“After what happened,” he paused, “I wanted to make sure you had the best care possible. It was the least I could do.”

She stared at him and part of her wanted to yell. Didn’t he claim he was not a puppeteer in her life? But she remembered the words of the minister; the prince had been the one who had taken her to the Tower in the first place, and she likely would’ve died without that.

He cleared his throat. “In any case, back there, you were flipping the pages without touching them,” Aldrik announced.

“Huh?” Vhalla said dumbly.

He nodded. “You kept flipping the pages only by moving your hand over the book, but you never actually touched them. You did not even notice.” His tone was a mix of excitement and severity. “Your powers are showing, Vhalla.”

“That’s impossible.” She shook her head.

“For other sorcerers, but not for you, clearly.” He crossed his arms on his chest.

“I’m sure you could do something even better without thinking about it,” she protested and grasped for the idea that what she was doing was not special.

“Yes, I very likely could.” He closed the gap between them, looking down at her. She looked up defiantly. “I am the most powerful sorcerer in this Empire. Therefore, I am not a good benchmark of what is possible or easy to do.” He gave a confident grin before strolling around and behind her.

Vhalla kept her gaze forward.

“Tell me, have you ever skipped stones?” He knelt, picking up one of the flatter, circular rocks.

“When I was a child.” Who hadn’t? “Though I can’t remember the last time.”

He tossed the stone from hand to hand a few times before sending it flying over the still water of the pond. It skipped across the surface three times before sinking. Vhalla intentionally did not look impressed.

“Your turn.” He bent down and picked up another stone, placing it in her palm.

The prince walked over to a decorative pile of mountain rocks around one side of the pond, perching himself on the largest. Resting his elbow on a bent knee he placed his chin in his hand and stared at her expectantly. Vhalla regarded him curiously before she brought her arm back for the throw.

“No, not like that,” he stopped her. “Without throwing it.”

“How do I...” she started.

“Move it, like you did the pages,” he instructed.

“I didn’t even know I was doing that,” Vhalla said, already annoyed.

“Somewhere in you, you did. I know this is going to be hard for you, but think less.” His words did not have a bite to them. “The execution of magic is not something that can be neatly summed up with words. I know you think, and wish, the whole world could be placed down on parchment in-between a strip of leather. But I regret it has fallen to me to inform you that such is simply not true.”

He gave her another one of his small smiles. It sparked warmth in her to see him being open toward her and not snarky. That spark quickly vanished when Vhalla looked doubtfully at the stone in her palm.

She held her hand out flat, the small stone in its center. Taking a breath, Vhalla tried to calm her mind and focus only on the afternoon air around her. Closing her eyes, the world materialized around her in the darkness. He was the first thing she saw with her magical sight.

Around the prince there was fire. It burned bright yellow—almost white—illuminating his features. In stark contrast was a dark spot in his abdomen, a black scar against the light. Vhalla opened her eyes and slowly turned to him.

“You’re not all right, are you?” she breathed. He frowned and she could almost feel him withdraw. “That magic, poison, whatever it is, it’s still in you.” She pointed at his side where she’d seen the spot. He considered her a long moment, unmoving.

“The stone, Vhalla,” Aldrik spoke softly and slowly.

He was shutting her out. Sighing, she closed her eyes. Some things wouldn’t change. It’d be foolish to expect them to. He was a prince, and she was an apprentice; some distances could never be crossed.

Her mind focused on the rock this time. Just like the bulb, she reminded herself.

The stone shuddered in her palm. Forward, Vhalla urged. Her brow furrowed, and she felt a drop of sweat roll down her neck, even though the temperature was nowhere near warm. Frustrated Vhalla opened her eyes to glare at the insubordinate pebble.

“That way!” she half pleaded, half snipped in annoyance.

The moment her opposite finger cut through the air in the desired direction, the stone shuddered to life. Vhalla jumped as it flew out of her palm, soared over the pond, through the shrubs on the other side, and buried itself into the stone wall behind.

Aldrik roared with laughter. She clenched her fists and scowled at him.

“That was amazing.” He slowly regained control of himself. “A little too much force, though.”

Frustrated, Vhalla picked up a second pebble and held it in her hand again. She connected with it faster this time, but it still refused to move despite her best mental commands. Lifting up her other hand, she flicked her wrist and it was sent soaring across the pond, though not as far.

Aldrik leaned forward, both elbows on his knees and his hands folded between. His raven eyes followed her every movement as Vhalla picked up the third stone. This time she did not even close her eyes to understand where the pebble was magically. Her fingers twitched, and it fell just to the other side of the water.

The fourth landed in the center of the pond with a dull plop and cry of victory from Vhalla.

Then there were the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh, each of which had a bad angle, moved too slowly, or landed wide again. Vhalla wiped her brow with the back of her hand, noticing her breathing had become labored.

The prince stood. “That is enough for today,” Aldrik said thoughtfully.

“But I’ve almost got it,” she protested.

“And are fully prepared to exhaust yourself in your attempt to get it.” He offered her his elbow. “Come.”