I had been sitting still for about twenty billion years, and my nose was getting itchier by the second.

Fuck it. I scratched it.

“You’re supposed to stay still,” Max said.

“My nose was itchy.”

“Acknowledge the itch. Allow it to permeate your awareness. Then let it go.”

“Scratching is faster. How can you sit so still?”

“Practice.”

“I knew it! You’ve done this meditation thing before.”

“No. I’ve had practice sitting still. Quiet down, and breathe.”

“We’ve been here forever!”

“It’s been less than two minutes.”

“We agreed on two minutes, right?”

“We agreed on ten.”

“Ugh! This is such a waste of time.”

“Do you want me to help you learn to cast or not?”

I did. I relaxed, and started to breathe.

Eventually, I was saved by the need to go to English class. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have thought that anything could make me relieved to go to English class, but six months ago I hadn’t met Max. (The one blessing was that Simon wasn’t in class; a handful of legacy mages were absent, having gone to some big event thing.) After English was maths, then a quick curse control lesson.

Kylie was just about to knock on Miratova’s door when we heard Clara’s raised voice behind it.

“You’re my teacher! Your job is to teach me.”

“My job is not, I would argue, to send you to your death. I am teaching you everything I agreed to, but some things are simply too dangerous, and when you’re older you will – ”

“I’m not stupid!”

“This isn’t about your age, Clara, or your skill. You are simply too young. Your body and mind are not ready.”

“Great-Aunt Polly was my age.”

“Then feel free to try to convince her master instead, but if I recall correctly, your Great-Aunt Polly accidentally cut herself in half. That will not be happening under my supervision, thank you very much.”

“If you won’t teach me, I’ll just find someone who will.”

“In this institution – ”

But before Instruktanto Miratova could finish, Clara stormed out the door and down the hall, not even seeming to notice Kylie or me. I mouthed ‘Witch!’ to Kylie, who rolled her eyes and knocked.

Miratova’s office was as chaotic as ever, but she’d taken the effort to relegate everything on her desk to a pile on her floor instead, leaving a clean working surface. She waved us in. “Hot cocoa?” she asked, indicating the recently boiled kettle by her cot.

We shook our heads.

“Does that thing use electricity?” I asked. “I mean, it’s an electric kettle. But there’s no, y’know, power grid here. Right?”

“You’d be amazed at what an institution will put in for you if they think you’re valuable enough. Let’s get to work.” Miratova laid two blank sheets of paper in front of us on her desk, then took out her sharp fountain pen. She pressed the tip into the mage mark on her ankle, drew ichor, and began to write.

A couple of minutes later, we each had a vaguely circular runic design in front of us, drawn in shiny wet ichor.

“This is a magic circle,” Miratova said, tapping one of the pages. “These can be fairly versatile, but this particular circle doesn’t do very much. It’ll light up if you channel power through it.” She marked two dots on each side of the circle, then repeated it for the other one. “You will need to put your fingertips on these points here, lower your guard, and attempt to channel power fronm one had to the other. Like electricity moving between two points.”

“Why didn’t we start with this?” I asked, setting my hands on the paper. “This seems way simpler than trying to control the wind or whatever.”

“Usually, it isn’t. Channeling raw power instead of releasing a spell to simply do what it does is a bit too sophisticated a first step. But some spells do respond better to this method, so I want to see if you can do it. Kylie, we already know you can cast at will with some simple aids, so I want to see if your magic is flexible enough to channel in this way, too.”

I closed my eyes. I felt my breath, felt the paper under my fingers, felt the energy within me. I envisioned releasing my power through one hand, calling it with the other.

The paper before me completely failed to light up.

Come on, really?!

I tried again. Nothing. I glanced at Kylie, and was secretly gratified to see that she was equally unsuccessful. I shouldn’t feel like that, I knew, but it was oddly comforting to see that she wasn’t magically able to master everything first try.

Miratova had us try a little longer, giving us bits of advice on how to channel, none of which made any sense to me. In the end, she was forced to concede that it wasn’t going to happen.

“This is a technique that usually requires practice,” she said. “It’s normal not to be able to succeed first try. Take the scrolls with you, so that you can practice in your own time.”

We took the paper and left. I had to rush to science class, anyway – why did I do something as idiotic as pack my fridays full of classes?

But eventually, classes were over, and it was time to actually have fun.

I had to get to Agreabla Insulo ten minutes early, so I could be sure I looked perfect for when Magistus arrived. He probably hadn’t been to the island before, which would give me an advantage. Terry and Mae had set up a fire on the beach, which I lit before sitting down and inspecting the esky of food.

Magistus arrived right on time, golden hair whipping in the ocean breeze. He was starting to really need a cut. He took in the sea, the sand, the setting sun, the fire. Me.

“Marshmallow?” I asked him, handing over a stick. He picked me up and kissed me.

“Rough day?” I asked.

“Better now. You?”

“About average. Eat this sugar and cow foot. You’ll feel better.”

He sat down and accepted the stick. “Nice weather for a beach fire.” He impaled a marshmallow and bent to the task of gently toasting its sides an even brown.

That took far too long for me. I shoved mine directly into the flames until it caught fire, then blew it out when I deemed it charred enough. “Any weather is nice weather for a beach fire. Anybody who says different isn’t committed enough to fun and relaxation.”

“On the topic of fun, you’ll be getting an invite to a party soon. Magista’s throwing an end-of-initiate-classes ‘good luck’ party.”

“Luck for what? Is it even possible to fail initiate level classes? I don’t think we’ve had a single graded science assignment and I got an A on an English project where I completely ignored the prompt and just dot-pointed comments about the story protagonist’s terrible outfit.”

“I think it’s more a ‘good luck not dying in the Initiation’ thing.”

“Well that’s grim.”

“It’s the safest way. A lot more used to die, before the Pit was built.”

“I don’t see why the witches among us even have to go through it; we’ve already got our spells.”

“Trying to get out of work, huh?”

We talked about nothing until the sun had fully set. The ocean tossed a chilly night breeze over us as the firewood ran low.

“I know somewhere warmer we can go,” I said. “Come on.”

I took Magistus’ hand and led him through the forest. The path was marked by luminous stones, something made by one of Mae’s friends, that glowed a soft, eerie green. We followed the path to the cabin, and I waved Magistus inside.

Making the cabin halfway presentable for the date had been a real task. We’d cheated a lot; Terry had found heavy curtains to cover the broken windows and draped bright cloths over the barrel chairs and beaten-up table. I’d scrubbed the place clean, which helped a lot. Mae had even climbed up onto the roof and repaired the hole – badly, but enough that you couldn’t see the sky through it. The outside still looked like a wreck, but in the dark, Magistus couldn’t see that.

But the cleanup hardly mattered, because upon entering it was only possible to pay attention to one thing – the flowers. They sat on the table in decorative vases, hung over the doorway in bunches, lined the tops of the curtains. They looked and felt incredibly realistic, except for one important detail – every blossom glowed, filling the cabin with light. Bright red roses and white lilies, snapdragons in yellow and violet, half a dozen other flowers I couldn’t name. Even I was blown away by the sight, and I’d been told what to expect.

Magistus stared. His mouth literally hung open as he followed me through the door.

“H… how…?”

“Some friends helped me out,” I explained.

“Some friends?”

I shrugged like it was no big deal. “Tea?”

I lit the stove, trying not to look too smug, while Magistus took a seat, trying not to look too impressed.

As I spooned leaves into the pot, it struck me that I hadn’t made a cup of tea in six months. I’d taken tea with plenty of people, but served it myself? No. I used to do it all the time at home, starting as soon as I was tall enough to reach the kettle; given the ritual’s roots as an anti-curse measure, I think it made my parents happy to see me doing it, even though modern teas had no effect on curses. It was an old, bone-deep habit now, a piece of myself I’d left untouched for six months and hadn’t even noticed. It felt strange to be steeping the pot, setting out the cups, counting the minutes down in my head.

“So this party,” I said. “Magista cooking anything for it?”

“Ah, another convert to my sister’s cooking. Unlikely. I could try to talk her into doing a cake or something, but she thinks it’s improper to cater your own party. Like it’s showing off or something.”

“Your mage family manners are weird.”

“No, that’s just Magista. Magista’s weird.” He pulled a rose from the vase on the table and began stripping the thorns off. “I am, of course, completely normal and sane.”

“Of course you are.” I poured the tea and handed him a cup. “That’s why you’re here in this witch’s hut with me instead of getting some sleep.”

“Sleep is overrated. Besides,” he gave me a cheesy grin, “am I not already having the best of dreams?”

“Ugh. That one was bad. Yeah, that’s gotta be your worst line ever. Don’t use that one again.”

“I’m out of practice, being your trophy boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “you’re the trophy?”

“Of course. The trophy has to be the more attractive one.”

“By that logic, I must be the rich and powerful one. I wish someone had told me.”

“Maybe you are, and this is your rise-to-power phase. You’ll be a billionaire within twenty years and write an inspirational memoir,” Magistus said.

“In that case, I can’t get a trophy boyfriend for another twenty years. Looks like we have to break up.”

“You’re just locking me down now because you know if you let me go, someone else will scoop me up. And I only get hotter with time.”

“If I can hold onto you when I’m not even wealthy and powerful yet, I must be incredibly smart and charismatic.”

“Or I’m just extremely perceptive, and can sense your potential.” He reached forward to tuck his de-thorned rose behind my ear.

“Ah, so that’s why you want an empathy spell – to be sure. You want to be certain of my potential so you know I’ll be able to look after you.”

“You’ll be richer and more powerful than any Cottingly or Brandt, making you a smart political choice.”

“If there’s one thing everyone can agree on about me,” I said, “it’s that I both am, and make, smart political choices.”

“I did watch you punch my roommate once.”

“And yet you’re still dating me. Sounds like you’re the one making the bad decisions here.”

Eventually, it became too late to linger, even on a Friday night, and the pair of us reluctantly left the hut of flowers behind. We wandered back down the tunnels together and parted with a kiss, each heading to our own dorms. Kylie was asleep, light snores emanating from behind her bedcurtains; Max was still up, focused on reading something at his desk.

“How’d it go?” he asked as I entered.

“I’m winning,” I said triumphantly. “Definitely winning. You should’ve seen the look on his face. My date was so much better.”

“I’m no expert, but I don’t think this is how most people do romance.”

“That’s because most people are quitters.”

Time to get ready for bed. I pulled the rose from behind my ear; it still glowed a soft red, and the stem felt woody and real in my fingers. It didn’t quite smell right; the blossom was properly scented, but I couldn’t smell the sweet, woody scent that should be at the wounds where Magistus had pulled the thorns off. Still, it was incredibly realistic. And Mae had had her friend just… make them, like it was no big deal. Forget Miratova’s melting statues and bridges of ice, or Malas’ healing – that was impressive.

I dropped the rose onto my desk, next to Miratova’s runic circle. The power to do amazing things was within me, and I couldn’t even make that damn circle light up.

Yet.