“No, of course my job isn’t interfering with my studies,” Rory assured Tyren. “I’ve been studying. I know the material backwards and forwards; I just can’t actually perform any of the charms.”
Remus folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall in the Chancellor’s mansion. He refused to sit, but also refused to leave his niece alone with anyone associated with the Baron.
Benjamin stood at the door, studying the new tutor with veiled disdain. Tyren was aggressive and condescending, but Benjamin said nothing, only inching forward if Tyren came close to touching his charge.
Tyren was in his forties, his bald head showing off the veins in his scalp that throbbed when he was frustrated. “You’re not pushing yourself. If you know the text, you should be able to perform the spells.”
Tyren never sat, but towered over Rory’s chair in the parlor. The light mint-colored furniture was dainty, constructed of dark wood with vines and leaves carved into the legs. The subtle nod to nature was echoed onto the paintings of Avondale’s tallest mountains that hung in gold frames on the walls. The décor was courtesy of Rory’s mother, and Adam’s mother, as well, before she’d passed. The two women had an eye for detail, designing several rooms to suit her daughter’s pale complexion. Rory tried not to think about the tragedy that befell Adam’s parents over a decade ago, but made a mental note to call Adam that evening to check up on him.
Rory sat like a china doll, her back rigid and her hands folded in her lap. “You’ve seen me try the charms. I’ve recited everything to you verbatim. Why don’t you tell me what I’m doing wrong? I mean, the Baron insinuated that Uncle Remus failed as a tutor because I couldn’t pass my exams.” Rory kept her voice light, as she’d seen her mother do at tea parties when the gossip would get out of hand. “Perhaps you’re a terrible tutor. I mean, me failing means that you’re failing, correct?”
Remus smirked at his niece, sniggering at the politeness that was laced into her gall. “Tyren is far more educated than most, Rory. If he can’t help you, then perhaps he should go back to school.”
“Yes, I think I’ll suggest some tutors for you to the Baron myself, Tyren. For your own good,” she simpered.
Tyren’s ears were red, as they often were when he was trying to hold onto his temper during their lessons. The crimson wave swept across his bald head as he chewed on the more acerbic words he would never be allowed to spew at the Chancellor’s daughter. “Recite the incantations again.”
Rory didn’t break eye contact with Tyren as she repeated not just the charm for object levitation, but the entire page of instructions that followed in the text. She’d read the book of spells enough times to know that it wasn’t academic smarts she was lacking. There were some things you couldn’t teach. She didn’t have the raw talent needed to pull off such things, and after three weeks of being grilled every night by Tyren after work, she was tired of beating around the bush. It was seriously cutting into her time with Cordray, who was waiting in the dining room, talking shop with her father, as he always did on evenings where her schedule was not her own.
Once she recited the entire page of text for object levitation, she then moved onto the Latin translation that followed. The dead language so many had struggled with rolled off her tongue like honey. She didn’t look away, nor did she allow him to interject.
It was when she moved onto the next spell that Tyren finally held up his hand. “Alright, alright. I get it.”
Rory had worked late and rushed through dinner, all so she could get to these frustrating lessons. At least when Remus tutored her, they accomplished something. He would go over the origins of where the spell came from – who cast it quite by accident, and what great battles led to the discovery of a whole new spell. Remus had always been fascinated with the unearthing of new magic, and how the world changed because of its ripple effect. Rory had more knowledge than most accomplished magicians about such things, but she’d never succeeded in putting them into practice.
After proving her knowledge, Rory finally held the control in the room, standing with her chin raised. “Apologize to Remus for the not-so-subtle digs on his abilities. My shortcomings are not his fault – nor are they yours. This is who I am. I’ve accepted it, and so will the council.”
Tyren looked over to Remus with disdain. “The council will never accept a Deadpulse. You’ll lose your right to vote, mark my words.”
“If I do, then it’ll be widely known that you’ve lost your touch. You failed, Tyren.” She rolled her shoulders back, feeling liberated that she had the power to damn anyone with the verdict she’d had to face over and over again. “You let your people down by not getting me to be able to cast a simple spell. I mean, come on. Children can levitate these small, immobile objects.” She sounded confident and calculating, but she was simply vomiting all the things told to her over the years that she’d had to stomach.
Tyren slammed his book shut. “I’ll not put up with your mouth. We’ll try this again tomorrow, but without your attitude.”
“What attitude? I’m merely repeating the things your precious Baron has said to my face. Are you so sensitive that you can’t take criticism from your employer?” She turned her chin toward her uncle. “Remus, what is it your boss says to you?”
Remus smirked at her. “You usually tell me that you love me.”
“I do. You’re the vice president of the Johnstone Foundation because I trust you to be brilliant and capable.” She leaned forward, breaking her perfect posture to drive her point home. “Don’t worry, Tyren. You’ll get there one day. Until then, I’m sure working for the Baron is bliss on ice. I’m so, so happy for you, living your dream by tutoring a Deadpulse. It seems like a fitting use of your extensive, and no doubt expensive education.” She sighed when Tyren’s cheeks flamed an even deeper shade of red after Benjamin broke his stoic demeanor with a chuckle. “Oh, I hate to think what might happen if you failed. The Baron doesn’t do well with failures.”
Tyren’s thick fingers were shaking as he moved forward to tower over her, every muscle poised to pounce.