He lit a candle and put it in front of me on the table. “Now, our first lesson is going to be on concentration. I want you to focus on this candle. Remove all other thoughts from your mind.”
I stared at the candle, my thoughts drifting in and out. Uncle Gabriel had said he was going to teach me to do magic. This was not magic; this was torture. My thoughts flickered back and forth like the flame on the tip of the candle.
Finally I looked up. “This is silly. Nothing is happening.” I was getting frustrated.
“You are not concentrating,” Uncle Gabriel said, glancing up briefly up from his work. “Block out all other thoughts. If they come, push them away and keep focusing on the candle. Nothing else is of importance; your whole mind and concentration should be on that candle.”
I tried again, but my thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone. Every time I looked up, Uncle Gabriel made me try again. He even changed the object of my concentration from the candle to a smoothly polished stone to a vase and back. I tried again and again, and every time it was the same—my thoughts came and went, flitting about in my mind, and my concentration was broken.
“Same time tomorrow, Aurora, and please practice. I expect you to concentrate on an object for measurably longer. Holding your concentration is one of the key aspects to working with your magic.” His eyes narrowed as he threw me a pointed look. “You have to learn to channel your powers properly. If you can’t control your mind and will, then when you release your powers, they will be all over the place, and we don’t want that.”
He returned to the paperwork on his desk. I left Uncle Gabriel’s study confused. What was that? What had I learned today? Nothing!
I walked through the gardens, meandering on shaded paths, and went over everything he had said. I thought magic was going to be wonderful and exciting, but it looked like all it was going to be was hard work. And practicing without taking off my amulet was going to be harder still and very frustrating. Even though I had all this incredible magic, I was not allowed to use any of it fully. I hoped I would learn to control my powers soon—Morgana was still looking for me, and when she finally did find me, I had to be ready.
The next day was rainy and gloomy, and I remained indoors, reading some handwritten books that I had found in the library.
They were quite interesting, and I enjoyed them because some had my father’s and mother’s names in them. A Concise History of the Illiadorian Royal Family and The Making of the Treaty: Life in the New Kingdoms were both particularly engrossing. I plowed through the books. Now I knew the whole history of my family, or at least the more recent part of it.
I discovered that, when Azaren died, Morgana was named heir to the throne, but there were some who rebelled against her claim openly. The rebellion was quashed, and now Morgana and Lucian had unrivaled power in Illiador. The other kingdoms formed an alliance and accepted her as a ruler, as long as she adhered to the treaty. So for now I was safe, as the treaty stated that all seven kingdoms would live peacefully together. Morgana couldn’t get to me in Eldoren. Or could she?
What I read didn’t sound right, however. Uncle Gabriel had said that Morgana betrayed Azaren and usurped the throne, but the books gave quite a different picture. I had never met her, but she scared me. She seemed merciless and thoroughly evil. How could she betray her brother and try to kill her own niece?
While I was daydreaming, Erien came into the library. He sat down with a thump on the window seat beside me. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” He took the book from my hand. “What are you reading? Has my grandfather been trying to get you to study already?”
I smiled. It was nice to have a cousin who actually liked me. “No, these are some books I found here. I was reading about Morgana.”
Erien’s face hardened. “And?”
“I was wondering . . . the book said that there was a rebellion, but she stopped it, and now she rules with the blessing of the people.”
Erien’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what the book says? Aurora, you should know better than to believe what is written in books.” He picked up one of them and looked at it. “Pfft, written by Adrian Longslade, I should have known. I wonder how this even got in here.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s a lackey of the archmage, and a lying scoundrel. All his work is adapted to suit Morgana.”
“Then what really happened?”
“Morgana,” he answered softly, “massacred thousands of families just to make an example of them—men, women, children, everyone. Anyone who was caught supporting your father was killed or thrown in the dungeons. Lucian and the Shadow Guards hunted down known supporters, and whole villages were scorched to the ground until the other kingdoms threatened to wage war on Illiador.” He paused, staring out the window, his face betraying the horror that mirrored mine. “She is ruthless, Aurora, truly evil.” He turned back to me and whispered, “Some say that Archmage Lucian is not just a mage but also secretly a dark sorcerer, a user of black magic.”
“But he’s the archmage!”
“Yes, and Morgana trusts him implicitly. He has some hold over her. No one knows why his magic is so powerful. Everyone fears him, even the Mage Guild. No one will go against him openly; to do so would be certain death.”
I listened with my mouth open. A dark sorcerer—what was I getting myself into?
I shook my head, then suddenly jumped up. “Oh no! I’m late for my lesson with Uncle Gabriel! Bye, Erien, see you later.” I rushed out of the library.
I ran down long stone corridors
