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He nodded once and held them out to me.
“What do you want me to do with that?” I was still whispering, even as he tried again to get me to take it, this time gesturing toward the training yard and then making the hand motion we had seen the Tyro use.
The motion that those first year accolades learned when they held the hair; when their magic first sparked. My eyes widened and he motioned for me to take the ribbon of hair again. We were going to spark my magic.
My stomach was still twisted, but this time for a different reason as I held my hands out, the Boy placing the long strands on my open palms as though they were precious. Maybe they were.
The Fae were awful, vile, creatures. I would always hate them, always fear them after the centuries of enslavement of my people. Yet, the second that hair touched my palm it was as though I had been plunged into cold water. All of that starlight rippled like an icy wave over my skin, the chill moving from my hands and over my body before it was once again replaced by a warm heat. But this wasn’t only that prickle of stars and energy I had felt before, this was fire. Fire, and ice, and a tangle of stars.
It was all the same sensation, the same feeling that had overtaken me before that white power had exploded from me. Except, somehow, this was stronger.
This was everywhere.
It was flying, and falling, and swimming in the coldest cleansing water all at the same time. I wasn’t breathing, but also had too much air in my lungs. I was cold, but too hot. I stared at the hair, at what I could see of my palms as if they would explode, or glow, or catch fire, or who knew what, but even as my body was caught in a windstorm, the world around me was calm.
Could the Boy not feel that? Could he not feel that sensation of everything and nothing all at once? Did he not feel the floor falling out of the world?
Eyes wide, I looked toward the Boy, his hands moving to my shoulders as he turned me toward the arena, gesturing toward the length of sand and a line of training dummies on the other side. The old things leaned against the stone wall of the turret, sagging and forgotten. He made the motion of magic, as if I was going to explode them all.
“I can’t,” I whispered, the feeling still rippling through my body. “I don’t have a Catalyst.”
I had spent an entire night trying to replicate what I had done. Hours were spent staring at my hands trying to make the magic come again, but now I froze.
The Boy stepped to my side, his hands gesturing from me, to the hair, to himself, and then to the arena, using the motion we always used when we pretended to throw magic at each other.
That time I swear I could hear his voice, ‘try’.
Exhaling, I screwed my face up and turned toward the arena. That feeling was everywhere, that everything and nothing swirling through my body and over my skin in an exhilarating tango.
Whatever was inside of me was dying to get out. Yet, I hesitated. I didn’t know why, this was silly. I had done worse things, broken bigger rules, but this…
The Boy stood there, right beside me, his hands moving forward as he exhaled in demonstration.
I half expected something to fly from him, he was so sure in his movements, but there was nothing, even though that tingle that was overtaking me was suddenly everywhere.
The Boy moved again, and this time I followed his movements, my hands cradling stretch of hair as though I was both Catalyst and Requisite. The tingle grew as I moved, my palms burned as I pressed them forward, but there was nothing.
No white light, nothing exploding from my hands to destroy and burn more bureaus. Just heat that was everywhere.
“See I–” I stopped even as he continued to move, his hands and body moving in the same motion again and again. He kept moving, kept breathing, the silent message clear.
‘Again.’
The darkness of his shroud didn’t even turn to me, he kept moving, his breathing a steady beat in the night. That tingle continued to roll over my skin, the waves of it matching his breaths, to match my own as I moved alongside him.
My hands and body moved as he did, the motions a fluid dance as again and again I pressed my hands forward, each time expecting the flash and explosion as they had before. Each time feeling that energy grow and pulse through me only for it to remain trapped.
“This is silly.” It wasn’t, but I sure felt like it. I stepped back from the movements as though it was them that were burning through me. “I have no Catalyst, I have no magic. What happened before, it was nothing… it was…”
I couldn’t even say the words, I knew they were a lie. I knew what I had seen. Standing there, still holding the length of grimy hair, I stared into the inky pitch of the training arena, waiting for some answer to step forward and tell me everything.
“I don’t know what the difference is.” I was pretending to fight the same as before. I felt the same tingle… but nothing was happening.
“Perhaps I–” I stopped myself again. I knew I hadn’t imagined it, I knew it had happened, but I forced the words out anyway. “I can’t make anything happen.”
The Boy clicked loudly, calling me out on my very obvious lie, that shroud still calmly vibrating as he stepped closer, his hand held out, the black leather glove palm up. I took it without question.
He pulled me before him, his towering frame stepping behind me as his gloved hands moved around me. The slight chill of the arena became a firestorm, that feeling of heat accelerated, but for a different reason. The Boy had helped me through movements like this before, but just like how he shielded me in the hall, this was different.
