“Master Finch!” Professor Edwards’ voice called out from behind Osric. He turned to face her as she strode over towards them. “Gd to have you with us,” the professor said. “Did everything go well?”

  Osric hesitated for a moment before responding.

  “Indeed, professor. I was gifted Control Air.”

  “Wonderful!” Professor Edwards said, csping her hands together, “Well, do give it a try. Hold an intention firmly in your mind, and don’t be surprised if things don't go as pnned at first. Deimancy spells do rather have a habit of misbehaving…” Her voice trailed off, and Osric followed her drifting gaze to a group of boys gathered around a small but growing fire spreading across the wn. Pendlebury stood the closest to it, arms frantically swinging around to no obvious effect.

  “Oh dear,” the professor said, “the groundskeeper is not going to be pleased.” She marched towards it, reaching them in seconds before quelling the fire with a smooth wave of her hands.

  Osric ughed. After the events inside the Sanctum of Whispers, the image of Pendlebury’s panicked filing was just what he needed.

  “He’s been like that for the st twenty minutes,” Edgar said. “Mind you, at least he’s able to set something alight.” He demonstrated by opening his palms in front of him. Two flickering fmes burned brightly for a few seconds before sputtering out.

  “That’s not entirely terrible,” Nellie said, gncing over from a little further away.

  “Oh, is that right?” Edgar said. “What’ve you managed, then?”

  Nellie hovered her hands over a bucket of water pced in front of her. She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a few seconds. The water’s surface trembled. From its centre, a thin plume of water erupted upwards. It snaked its way through the air, striking Nellie’s palm with force and spshing her thoroughly. She yelped and the plume immediately crashed back down.

  “Don’t you dare!” Nellie warned Edgar, patting herself dry.

  “I would never…” he replied, grinning. “Come on then, Osric, give it a go!”

  Osric held his hands out in front of him. It was hard to believe that he possessed a new spell. He didn’t feel any different than before. Then again, he hadn’t known about the presence of his shield spell until it saved him from a broken wrist. He closed his eyes, repeating the same process that he had become familiar with during his previous spellcasting lessons. He felt the still, vaguely warm air around him, and tried to imagine the sensation of it flowing over his hands and ruffling through his hair.

  Nothing happened.

  He opened his eyes again and gnced over at Edgar, still watching expectantly. Osric sighed and looked around.

  He needed something stronger. An idea as powerful as the one that had allowed him to intentionally cast a shield for the first time. He walked a few steps towards Edgar then carried on straight past him. Edgar’s curious gaze followed him as he reached the nearest fmbeau. Osric took off his bzer, folding it and pcing it on the grass before rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Without the stifling fabric of his uniform, he could feel the slightest breeze flowing over the fine hairs on his forearms.

  This time, he pictured the fmbeau in front of him now buffeted by a relentless wind. He imagined the fme retreating backwards, deforming until it was almost horizontal, before finally being snuffed out.

  He raised his hands.

  The wind picked up almost immediately, the slumbering beast awakening at his summons. A gust coiled zily around him. His clothes pressed against his skin as it seemed to test him, yet he held firm and redoubled his efforts. He forced the image he had created to the forefront of his mind.

  The wind rushed past him now, its attention drawn to its new prey. He felt it not just across his skin, or through his hair, but all around him. It was as if its form was now an extension of himself, a contorting set of limbs no bit less responsive than his own. He understood its logic. The patterns to its movements. The force of its surges as it descended upon the fme. How it twisted around him, gaining momentum for the next attack.

  The fmbeau’s fme flickered, writhing this way and that. Osric pressed on. It glowed an angry red, clinging onto life with every smothering blow. Still, it remained—taunting him, defying him.

  He felt a fsh of frustration.

  The wind contorted once more, coursing back towards him and shing at his face. He closed his eyes to protect them from its assault. His arms began to burn, the first tell-tale signs of aether-sickness grasping at his focus. His senses retreated back within him, and his understanding of the wind’s movements was once again limited to the feeling of it smming against his thin frame.

  A fierce gust struck him in the centre of his chest. His feet lifted off the ground for a split second as it pushed him backwards. He stumbled, falling onto the grass with a thud.

  “Osric! Are you alright?” Edgar shouted, rushing over to him.

  The air had settled. Osric gasped for air. His ears were ringing, and there was a throbbing pain where his head had hit the ground. He had failed to control his new spell and, if the sporadic twitching of his muscles was anything to go by, another bout of aether-sickness was on the horizon.

  “Couldn’t compin,” he groaned.

  Edgar helped him up.

  “I thought you had it there for a moment,” he said.

  “As did I,” Osric said. “The wind was obeying me—doing exactly as I intended. Then, all of a sudden, it’s as if it had a change of heart.”

  “I s’pose there’s a reason they call it ‘spelltaming’,” Edgar said. “Mine’s more like a frightened animal. It’ll barely do anything before disappearing again.” He opened and closed his fists and a few measly embers flew out.

  “At least you’re not setting the wn on fire,” Osric said. He gnced over to where Pendlebury had been, but his eyes instead nded on Mary. She was in conversation with Professor Edwards near the edge of the group of first-years.

  “Look, Mary’s back,” he said, grabbing his bzer and putting it back on. “Let’s go and ask how she got on.”

  The boys wandered over. By the time they reached Mary, she had finished her conversation and was looking around at the fledgling mages around her. She spotted the boys and smiled weakly.

  “That took a while,” Edgar said. “Don’t tell me you were the st one!”

  “Second to st,” Mary said quietly. Osric thought she looked a little dishevelled, her face flush and her eyes reddened—almost as if she had been crying.

  “Did it go well?” he asked. Mary looked down at the ground.

  “It was fine. I got through it. What happened with you lot? Has anyone figured it out yet?”

  The boys exchanged looks.

  “Not exactly,” Osric said. “I gave myself a nasty bruise, and Edgar here could barely light a candle. Nellie seemed to be making some progress, though.” He looked around. “Hold on, where’s Avery?”

  “Oh, he’s down by the treeline with some of the other Locurithians,” Edgar said. “Saw him lifting a big rock earlier, though I reckon I could have managed the same even without magic.”

  “Another wager then?” Osric said. “Since you’re about to lose the st one and all…”

  Edgar grinned.

  “Only person I’ll be losing to is Avery. I might barely be able to light a candle, but you couldn’t even blow one out.”

  “It was my first attempt!” Osric said, “Besides, you had a running start.”

  “Speaking of which,” Mary said before Edgar could respond, “I’d best get to it. We haven’t got long until Botany and I’d quite like to see if this new spell was worth the wait.” She set off towards the northern edge of the wn, where a number of students were running up and down. Some moved noticeably faster than what would have ordinarily seemed possible. Osric’s brow furrowed. She’d seemed upset all morning, and he wasn’t convinced by her assurances to the contrary. He’d have to ask her again ter.

  “If she beats us to it, there’ll be no excuse,” Edgar said. “I hate to do this, Osric, but I’m going to ask Pendlebury for help. I know, I know, but he’s at least managed more than whatever this is.” He cupped a small fme in his hands, watching it morosely as it withered into nothingness. He sighed.

  “By all means,” Osric said. Edgar nodded glumly and then wandered off.

  Osric spent the rest of the lesson trying to improve upon his first attempt at casting Control Air. While he managed to stay on his feet, he also got no closer to extinguishing any of the fmbeaux dotted around the wn. His muscle twitches teetered into cramps, and by the end of Professor Edwards’ lesson he was feeling dizzy and weak. The professor called them all together for a few final words of encouragement and congratutions, then sent them on their way. He hobbled off towards his next lesson, a little relieved that the repeated humiliation of failing to control the most basic of Nautanios’ spells was, at least momentarily, over.

  “Did you see Miss Tremayne?” Avery said as they settled into their desks in the Botany cssroom. “She had jets of water arcing through the air by the end of it. Professor Edwards said she’d never seen someone complete Domatio Incantationis so rapidly.”

  “Yes, it was rather humbling,” Nellie said, her dress still damp from a few misguided casts.

  “Maybe I should’ve been asking her for help instead,” Edgar said.

  “Pendlebury wasn’t every bit as helpful as you’d hoped?” Osric asked.

  Edgar scoffed.

  Professor Livingston stood at the front of the css, taking cuttings from a thin, leafy potted pnt Osric recognised from st week’s readings. The professor wore her customary moss-green overalls atop a ruffled high-colred blouse with the sleeves rolled up, an indulgence in practicality that Ravenhurst did not permit its students. A pair of brown gloves nested inside a chest pocket, and her wavy red hair flowed down to a circur bronze brooch pinned below her shoulder. She moved quickly and gently, gathering together a rge clump of the pnt's leaves and leaving the stems behind.

  “Good morning first-years,” the professor said, pcing the leaves inside a rge, silver teapot resting on her desk. “I do hope you all had a pleasant first conversation with our gods.” She reached across her desk, pulling forward another pot crammed full of small yellow flowers with white petals, and began to take more cuttings.

  “I’m sure you’ll all be focused on spelltaming for the next few days, so I thought it would be a good idea to see if we can’t help some of you along your way. Who can tell me the name of this pnt?” she said, holding up a flower. She pointed at Nellie, who had her hand up.

  “Chamaemelum nobile, or English Camomile.” Nellie said.

  “Very good. And this one?” she said, pointing to the leafy pnt.

  “Is it chervil? Uh, I mean, anthriscus cerefolium?” Nellie said.

  “Indeed it is,” Professor Livingston said. She pced a handful of the flowers into the silver teapot, then reached for the final potted pnt on her desk.

  “And finally…?”

  Nellie thought for a moment, then shook her head.

  “I’m afraid I don’t recognise it, professor,” she said.

  “Anyone else?”

  Miss Tremayne’s hand floated upwards.

  “Yes?” the professor said.

  “Foeniculum vulgare, commonly known as fennel,” Tremayne said.

  “Precisely. Now, what do these three pnts have in common which might render them useful for us today?”

  Nellie’s hand shot up.

  “Thank you, Miss Forsyth, but perhaps someone who hasn’t already contributed?” the professor said. There was a moment of silence, then Edgar, who was sitting in between Osric and Nellie, raised his hand.

  “Yes?” the professor said.

  “They’re all aether-regenerative?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Exactly right. I am gd to see that some of you have paid heed to st week’s assignment.” She took a few pinches of the pale yellow flowers and dropped them into the teapot. Steam floated up from it, filling the room with an earthy scent. “When consumed, I have found this combination of pnts can be quite effective at augmenting the body’s natural aether regeneration. In this case, allowing oneself further opportunity to attempt the completion of spelltaming.”

  Professor Livingston retrieved three china teacups from a drawer in her desk and rested them on accompanying saucers. She pced a lid on the teapot, pressing down upon it as she gracefully poured out three cups of pale green tea. She took two in her hands, walking between the desks and delivering them to Nellie and Edgar. She turned back towards the front before they could thank her, taking the final teacup to where Miss Tremayne was sitting.

  “Now, let us turn our attention to the substance of today’s lesson. The effects of climate on pnt growth are well studied. In this region of the country, for example, one finds…”

  Osric peered over at Nellie and Edgar. While the former sipped politely from her teacup, the tter downed his tea almost in one go, as if quaffing some unpleasant medicinal tincture. Osric had realised what was happening slightly too te, and though he had known the answer to the professor’s final question, his weariness had discouraged him from offering it up. He had half a mind to ask Nellie to share, although his short time studying etiquette had taught him enough to know that that might be frowned upon. He’d have to replenish his aether unaided, and hope Edgar’s feeble fmes remained that way until he had. Nautanios’ words echoed in his mind.

  My brothers will be watching. They will send others to test you.

  He needed to be ready. He’d have to try even harder tomorrow.

  Osric spent much of the rest of the day navigating the buzz of rumours. He was told who had been given which spell, who hadn’t gotten the spell they wanted, and who had already completed Domatio Incantationis—mercifully few so far, Osric noted, though to his chagrin Pendlebury was ciming to be one of them.

  He had tried to find a moment to talk to Mary alone, though the excitement of the day had given little opportunity for private discussion. Edgar and Nellie rushed off after dinner to practise their deimancies, so Osric, Mary and Avery spent their evening in the common room, chatting with one another in between readings or distractedly-scribbled essays. Though Osric was more guarded around Avery than he was around Mary, he appreciated his company all the same, and the boys mented over their mutual ck of success with spelltaming thus far.

  Edgar and Nellie walked through the door to the common room as lights-out drew near. They were whispering to each other, but stopped when they saw the others. Mary made room for Nellie on the end of their sofa and Edgar colpsed into an armchair, spping his hands down on the armrests. He looked tired—exhausted, even—but grinned from ear to ear.

  “Oh dear,” Avery said, “I fear that look.”

  Osric’s heart sank.

  “What happened? Did you do it?” he asked.

  Edgar leaned forward and reached out his hand, palm facing upwards.

  “See for yourselves,” he said.