“Yes,” she answered.
“Could I be transfigured into a tree?”
Tessam tilted her head to the side slightly. “One thing you will find is that it’s very difficult to transfigure yourself into something that doesn’t have a heartbeat, or a brain, and doesn’t breathe. It can be done but I wouldn’t recommend it. Also so you are all aware, to transfigure into another person without their consent is a serious offense.”
With a wave of her hand, a dingy silver spoon appeared in front of each student.
“I want you to change this into a beautiful piece of jewelry. I expect you to help your desk partner. Open your books to page eighty-seven. There you will find the spell. Those of you who are not magic-born and do not have a stone of your own, follow me.” She turned and her robe whirled around her.
Six students from Hesstia, three from Collweya, and one from Delhoon got up and followed Tessam to her desk. Flipping open my book, I turned to the indicated page and began reading. The language of magic was one I’d learned as a young child, and the words of the spell looked fairly simple. Transignatia lino yardah. The tricky part was picturing the thing I wanted to change it into to exactness and using the right amount of power. Not enough and it wouldn’t change properly, too much and I could end up worn out and possibly even exploding the object.
Out of the corner of my view, I saw Zyacus hover his hand over his spoon.
He whispered the spell and his palm glowed, the spoon moved, shook and then settled back down unchanged. His hand fell back to his lap and he turned toward another table with a Delhoon and Collweyan boy and girl.
It’s like he was trying to avoid looking at me. Was he really so mad I didn’t go out to the lake the night before? If he wanted to be like that it was fine with me. I read the spell over and over until I had every syllable memorized and then I pictured my father’s ring. It was a phoenix—the wings wrapped around his finger, the body sat in the center and it had two tiny jewels for eyes. My ring probably wouldn’t end up with the jewels but it could still shape into the magical bird.
Closing my eyes, I held the image of the ring in my mind, chanted the spell and the power flowed through my fingers. The spoon rattled, the sound broke my concentration. When I looked, the spoon had bent into a circle but otherwise it appeared the same.
“I thought you had it,” Zyacus said and my head snapped up.
He watched me for a moment and a half-smile grew on his face. That devilishly handsome smile—I hated. Why did my heart flutter faster when he looked at me like that? Why did he have to be so beautiful? Almost inhumanly beautiful but more like a demon disguised as an angel. I wondered if his magic stone made him more attractive. Some said that magic could perfect the user’s physical appearance. I wasn’t sure how true that was.
“What?” I asked. When he kept staring, I picked up my bent spoon, and inspected it to see if any other changes occurred.
“Nothing. I just like looking at you.”
I fumbled my spoon and it fell on my lap. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”
Eyebrows furrowing, he chuckled. “Did it sound like I was being sarcastic?”
I glared at him. “No but you’re always an ass so I assumed. And if you weren’t being sarcastic then you no doubt have an ulterior motive. I’m not going to help you with the spell. Figure it out yourself.”
With the tip of his finger, he pushed his spoon in circles. The sound of it scraping on the tabletop annoyed me. “We’re supposed to work together, Tessam’s orders.”
I peeked up at the professor who was still helping the students with the borrowed magic stones. Looking around the room none of the other students had even bent or changed their spoons at all. At least I was ahead.
“How do you expect me to help you?” I asked, closing my eyes again. This time I held the spoon in my hand and pictured my father’s ring.
“What are you thinking of?” he asked, breaking my concentration.
“A ring,” I snapped.
“A plain ring? A pretty ring? What kind?”
I clenched my jaw and looked over at him. “Why do you ask so many questions?”
“If you want it to work you have to picture it exactly. A detailed ring will be harder.”
I didn’t care what he thought or that he was right, I would change this into my father’s phoenix ring. “Don’t talk for a minute.”
His lips pursed; he didn’t like being told what to do. Neither did I.
“Please,” I added. “If I can focus, I can do it.”
Even with his silence, I found it hard to concentrate knowing he was watching me. But my magic surged, the hum of it buzzing beneath my skin, and my palm warmed where I felt the weight of the spoon. I willed that thing to change, willed it to take the form of my choosing. When I opened my eyes it slowly morphed as it floated above my palm. In seconds it was to the exact likeness of my father’s ring, minus the jewels.
In a flash my ring disappeared from my hand, and appeared in between Zyacus’s fingers. “I’m impressed yet again with your talents. But you could have chosen a better creature. This was predictable.”
It took a lot of self-control to not punch him and take my ring back. The phoenix was the symbol of my kingdom, my heritage. Like the magical bird, spell casters, though trodden and hunted, would always rise from the ashes. “At least I can do it.” I hated how childish the words were as they left my mouth. Still fighting the urge to take back my ring, I dug my
