Ever so carefully, Becka released just a trickle of her energy onto that thread of magic. A moment later, the light-green color of the fabric shook and shuddered. A ripple spread across her blanket, the color fading in places, revealing an uneven and imperfect dye job.
The pattern of the sandstone remained, all the more out of place on the mottled beige and green blanket.
In the following moments of silence, Yaeli laughed out loud. “I mean, you know it’s done, but we all prefer to pretend in the perfection.”
“Your control is remarkable, removing the maker’s spell but leaving Alvilda’s,” Ingrid said. “You’ve come so far in such a short time.”
The genuine compliments touched her. Becka had had such a difficult time feeling connected. Perhaps Hanna and Maura were right. She needed to be open to connecting with her family.
“A clever feat, to be sure,” Alvilda replied. “But does it qualify for the einvigi? I mean, we all noticed your change right off.”
There was some general hemming and hawing amongst the crowd, but Becka broke the silence. “I agree. I’ll give it another go.”
She walked around the group, alert for signs of the others’ magic.
“Eww,” cried Hanna, who spat a grape out into her napkin. “I thought the last one was a little off,” she said to the serving girl, “but these are too bitter to eat.” She leaned forward and dropped the few she had in her hand onto her plate.
Yaeli raised an eyebrow, but then quickly grabbed a bite of cheese and bit in. Her nose wrinkled with disgust. “All right, who tainted the food?”
Sigfrid shrugged. “I did.” She sipped from her glass. “Ugh! But I got the timing wrong. I’d meant for the bitterness to fade in slower.” Sigfrid held up her hand, appearing to grab the air, and then shook it and waved it away.
Hanna picked up her discarded grape cluster. “At least the food is good. That leaves two remaining: Yaeli and Ingrid.”
Becka cleared her throat.
“And Becka!” Hanna giggled.
Was Hanna always this bubbly? Becka shook her head. Which was when she noticed Shamus shooing away a bee above his head.
Shamus stood at the edge of the grove leaning against an aspen tree. Despite standing in the shade, his silhouette dappled by the sunlight, Becka could still make out tiny bright white petals atop his head. As she neared, Becka recognized the distinct forms of miniature jasmine flowers blooming off of the peaks of his curly hair. Shamus greeted her approach with a growing scowl.
“Ingrid,” Becka asked, glancing back over her shoulder. “I take it this is your doing?”
Ingrid nodded. “I thought, with him in the shade, that no one would notice.”
“It’s a good catch, Becka!” Sigfrid said.
“Need I remind you,” Shamus interrupted, “shifters have no interest in your magic. Whatever you’ve done here,” he gestured at the top of his head, “is non-consensual.”
Ingrid blushed deeply. “Apologies, Shamus, I forgot myself.” She held up a hand and blew across it in his direction. A moment later the petals fell from his head and dissipated into dust.
“You okay?” Becka asked Shamus. He shouldn’t have to endure being treated as an ornament in a party game. At least Ingrid’s apology had sounded heartfelt.
“She can’t hurt me,” he replied.
It didn’t exactly answer Becka’s question, but his expression had returned to neutral.
Becka gave him a quick nod and then walked back over to her seat.
“That leaves us Yaeli’s illusion and whatever else Becka comes up with,” Hanna said, popping another grape in her mouth.
“If you can’t find it, that’s all right. I’ll happily claim my win.” Yaeli’s smug grin was met with frowns from the other contestants.
Tired of enduring the low-level magic-induced headache, Becka took a moment to pull a bottle of her hot sauce out of her bag. This raised some eyebrows but didn’t shock anyone, as her predilection for hot sauce as pain reliever was well-known at this point.
At that moment, a bird landed on the blanket next to her, seeming to be interested in the bright coloring of the bottle in Becka’s hand. And in that moment, Becka saw Yaeli’s illusion and cried out in alarm.
Yaeli had reversed the nap on the bird’s feathers, causing the bird to somehow appear put together backwards, and yet in the proper shape. The effect disturbed Becka at a deep level, although she couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The finch just looked wrong.
She heard others ask what was amiss, but Becka’s attention was entirely on the bird. Missing not a beat, she set down the bottle in front of the bird, who then moved in for a closer look. Becka reached out a single finger, her focus tuned, and just barely touched the bird. In that millisecond she attempted a partial removal of Yaeli’s magic, just to see what would happen.
Instead of reversing the feather nap 180 degrees to the correct direction, Becka had managed to turn it halfway back to normal so each barb along the shaft stood out at a right angle, causing the bird to appear perpetually startled.
Becka shrank back, appalled at her impact on the bird. Yaeli’s laughter pealed out, startling the bird from its seat. It flew up and then came back down, picking at a seeded cracker it no doubt took as bird food. The others leaned in for a closer look.
Alvilda’s look of dismay was accusatory. “What have you done?”
“We should rename it the puffball!” Yaeli exclaimed, having caught her breath.
“It looks like you electrocuted it!” Ingrid said.
Hanna, laughing, choked a little on her grape but seemed fine.
Sigfrid had joined in with Yaeli’s laughter. “Electrocuted… or like a stable man did its hair!”
There was another round of laughter, which Becka joined in on this time.
Hanna cleared her throat. “It’s remarkable, Becka. Disturbing, but remarkable.”
Becka pulled on her glove, and then took a swig from the bottle of hot sauce.
“Hmm, who shall I name the winner? Yaeli or Becka?” Hanna asked.
Yaeli stood and gave a short bow in Becka’s direction.
