The dowager waved her hand and opened a portal. “Try it out. I will see you tomorrow for breakfast. Please be on time—tardiness is such a disagreeable quality.”
She stepped into the portal and disappeared.
After she left, I practiced using glamour and made myself a bed. It was a perfect replica of my bed in Silverthorne Castle. Now I knew exactly how I wanted my room to look, so I went around the space recreating my old room. Calling up my magic, I scanned my memory for the way the furniture and the curtains that had adorned the room looked, adding simple touches that made the space brighter. Smooth white stone floors, a dresser with a big mirror against one wall, and a big four-poster bed draped with white-and-gold curtains.
I looked around. Perfect! This was the most fun thing I had done since I got to Elfi, and glamour had proved to be quite an interesting way of exercising my magic.
Tristan made me practice my sword moves each day until every muscle screamed in protest. But I kept going. No real skill was learned the easy way. We trained alternately with staffs and swords, and I was slowly getting better at both.
“How’s your archery?” Tristan asked me after we had finished a particularly long training session.
The novices were still training; experienced soldiers walked through the sparring pairs, adjusting grips and showing them different moves. The archers were practicing with targets set up at the far end of the field.
“Not bad,” I said truthfully as he escorted me back to the palace. “At the academy I had a little while to learn the basics.”
“Do you have air magic?”
“I’m not sure.” I thought back to the times I had used my fae magic without my amulet. “I think I hovered a bit once or twice when I used my silver fire.”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Air magic is a great asset to an archer. Most High Fae have earth magic and air magic; they are the most common magical talents we possess, although most of the air-fae can’t do more than create a gust of wind. Archers are chosen from among the air-fae—their ability to manipulate the air gives them a better chance at accuracy. Maybe I should add archery to your training sessions.”
After that, Tristan began my archery lessons. The fae bows were different from what I used at the academy, but I would manage. I was quite good at archery when I trained with Baron Tanko, but I never got a chance to practice much outside school.
Tristan thrust a quiver of arrows at me, and I strapped it on. He handed me a sleek-looking yew bow. It was light, beautifully carved at the ends with flowers and vines, and far easier to use than the ones at the academy. “Let’s see what you can do.”
I nocked the first arrow, my muscles straining, making sure to keep my elbow up as I had been taught.
“Concentrate with your fae senses,” Tristan said softly, standing behind me and adjusting my grip on the bow. “Use the air around you, and find the quickest way through it to your target.”
I took a deep breath and did as he instructed. I could feel the air guiding me and connecting to my magic as I released the arrow. I tried not to break the link, but the wind shifted slightly and I was thrown off. The arrow hit the target a little to the left of the bullseye.
“Not bad. I want you to get used to the bow—keep practicing. Once you have mastered using air magic for the arrows, we can add silver fire to it.”
“It’s about time.” I grinned at Tristan. “But when can I practice using silver fire with my sword like you do?”
“When I believe you are ready.” Tristan ended the conversation.
I practiced archery whenever I had time in between my other training sessions. I spent my mornings with Tristan, Cade, and Skye sparring in the training field and my afternoons walking in the gardens with the dowager.
Sometimes we would go to the library and come back with a stack of books for me to read as the dowager taught me the various intricacies of fae magic and guided me through understanding the political world of the fae. There was so much information in the castle library, famous throughout Avalonia for its extraordinary collections of books and ancient scrolls, and I devoured book after book about fae history.
One evening I met Tristan at the training ground for our usual sparring practice. “Follow me,” he said when he saw me.
“Where are we going?” I ran after him. “I thought we were supposed to be training.”
“We are.” Tristan gestured to the centaurs to open the city gates, which led out into the valley.
Once we had exited the city, Tristan broke into a jog.
“Where are you going?” I shouted.
“Let’s see if you can keep up,” he shouted back.
I groaned and broke into a sprint. I soon caught up with him, but every time I did he would go a little faster. My heartbeat quickened as the muscles in my legs burned, but I pushed forward.
“You need to hone your senses,” said Tristan as he ran, his voice even. “You are stronger and faster than you know. Your fae blood gives you endurance and strength that no mage could ever hope to have. When you fight, when you run, use your
