Chapter 36-Name It

Odett’s POV

  ‘Name what is present,’ Lorilie instructed with steady urgency.

  Six circles. Four instructors. One wooden marker. Joshy’s hand beside mine. The smoke drifted from a silver bowl and smelled of cedar, nothing like the ash and blood in my dream.

  “I need a moment,” I told Joshy with controlled honesty.

  Joshy stepped into the nearest projectile lane. Nolan moved the marker behind Cassian’s shield. They waited for me to raise my hand, and no one asked me to explain the pause.

  “Ready,” I said after my breathing steadied.

  The first padded bolt stung my forearm through the barrier. I sent the second into an empty circle and pulled the shield inward so Joshy could see the path. The smaller barrier took less power and let the team move.

  Cassian called the turns while Nolan dragged the marker between the stone dividers. Joshy guarded the open side and warned me before each change in direction. We reached the fourth circle before the instructor removed one of the marked exits.

  “Left path is closed,” Cassian called.

  “The center barrier changes every twelve seconds,” Joshy warned while watching the moving stones.

  “Then we wait for the opening instead of breaking it,” I decided with restrained effort.

  Two bolts hit my shield together while we waited. Power surged through my palm and spread farther than I intended, a violet wave that shook dust from the ceiling. My fingers went numb even though the barrier held.

  Lorilie remained present as exhaustion moved up my arm. I lowered the shield instead of pretending I could maintain it. Joshy covered the final opening while Cassian guided Nolan and the marker into the safe circle.

  “My hand is numb, and I used too much power,” I reported before the instructor could ask.

  “Sit out the next rotation,” the instructor ordered.

  “I can continue after a few minutes,” I replied, frustrated but honest.

  “Then you will prove it after the healer checks your hand, not before,” she said without room for argument.

  The Academy healer found no damage beyond magical exhaustion. She wrapped my wrist with a cooling strip and made me drink something that tasted like bitter grass. I watched the next team from the bench while my fingers slowly began responding again.

  Sitting out stung more than my hand did. My magic had obeyed, and Lorilie had stayed close. Yet when the smoke frightened me, I had answered with more power than the exercise needed.

  ‘You stopped when you noticed,’ Lorilie reminded me with quiet reassurance.

  ‘After I shook dust onto half the class,’ I answered with embarrassed annoyance.

  ‘The ceiling needed cleaning,’ she replied helpfully.

  Joshy joined me after the rotation and offered the water bottle I had left beside the wall. He did not ask whether the smoke reminded me of the nightmare because he had no reason to know which part had caught me. He waited until I flexed my fingers before speaking.

  “You made the barrier larger when the two bolts hit together,” he observed carefully.

  “I reacted before I decided what the shield needed,” I admitted.

  “Then that is the part we practice, not whether you are strong enough,” he replied.

  Joshy was right. Nobody needed another demonstration of how strong I was. What scared me was how quickly I had reached for that strength, before I had even decided what to do. Next time, I needed to catch myself sooner.

  Aunt Jess received the instructor’s report before we reached home. She waited in the private practice room with no weapons on the mat and one narrow practice shield positioned between two painted lines. Her expression contained none of the excitement she usually brought to combat corrections.

  “You are not training power tonight,” Aunt Jess explained with unusual seriousness.

  “You are training the moment before power.”

  Jess put me behind the narrow shield while Orian tossed soft cloth balls from different directions. I was allowed to block only the ones she called dangerous. I laughed at the drill until I shielded against a blue ball she had already declared harmless.

  “Again,” Aunt Jess ordered patiently.

  We went again until I could feel the instant before my arm moved. Joshy kept count, and Orian gave the cloth balls increasingly absurd names. By the last round I had blocked three, ignored seven, and threatened him over the one he called the Destroyer of Kingdoms.

  “Threat assessment remains imperfect,” Uncle Orian announced.

  “My assessment of you is becoming very precise,” I warned.

  Dinner waited after training, but Dad’s chair remained empty. Mom said he and Grandma Ezmerelda were reviewing a protected message and would join us when they finished. She did not guess at its contents, and no one asked her to.

  They arrived before dessert with tired expressions and no folders. Dad kissed Mom’s temple before taking his seat, while Grandma accepted the tea Uncle Orian poured for her. Their silence belonged to work they had not invited us into.

  “Did Sam send another message?” I asked.

  “His team is safe,” Dad answered carefully.

  “The ledger review is taking longer than expected, so he has not started south.”

  Disappointment pressed against my ribs without becoming panic. The earlier message had said he might begin the route within the week, not that he would. I repeated the difference silently until it felt true.

  “Did something go wrong?” Joshy asked.

  “Nothing in the portion I can discuss,” Dad replied evenly.

  “Additional pages require the same supervised review as the first.”

  Dad stopped there. Sam’s team was safe and their work had kept them in the north. I wanted more, but his answer told me which questions belonged to the investigators tonight.

  I made two entries in the warded journal before bed. One recorded the hearing and everything the challenge card had left unknown. The other described the smoke, my oversized shield, and the moment I lowered it.

  I wrote that the smoke had reminded me of Black Claw. My power had expanded too quickly, and I had stopped before the barrier failed. Seeing it on the page made me want to explain the dream with it. I left that out; reacting to a memory didn’t tell me where the memory had come from.

  I flexed my sore hand and felt where the day’s practice had left its ache. Sam was still far away, but tomorrow’s work would not wait for him to come home. I set my notes where I would see them at breakfast and let Lorilie grumble about resting.