Rovelle

A sharp crack of electricity snapped from somewhere beyond the training hall.

I turned toward the sound.

Two boys were sparring near the far wall.

Both were blond, though that was about where the similarities ended. The taller one fought with a spear, keeping his movements controlled and his distance carefully measured. The other had two short black daggers and seemed determined to make distance stop existing altogether.

Violet electricity crawled along the blades as he rushed forward.

The spear came around.

He ducked beneath it and struck the shaft with one dagger, forcing it aside while the other swept toward the taller boy’s ribs.

The taller boy twisted away just in time.

Instead of backing off, the boy with the daggers followed.

One weapon vanished from his hand, breaking apart into wisps of black mana. He slipped around the spear, stepped inside its reach, and formed the dagger again on the opposite side.

My eyes widened.

For a second, he’d actually trapped the spear between them.

Then violet sparks burst across his second dagger and he lunged again.

The taller boy caught his brother’s wrist against the shaft, turned into him, and swept his leg out from underneath him.

The younger boy landed flat on his back.

Both daggers disappeared in a scatter of black mana and violet sparks.

He stared up at the sky for all of a second before pushing himself onto one elbow.

“Again.”

His brother lowered the spear. “We’ve been at this for an hour.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re breathing like you ran here.”

“I said I’m fine.”

There wasn’t any irritation in it. Just certainty.

His brother offered him a hand.

He took it and was pulled back onto his feet.

“I was close that time.”

“You were.”

“I hesitated.”

The taller boy shook his head. “You did the opposite.”

“I saw another opening.”

“And took it before you knew if it was real.”

The younger boy glanced back toward the place he’d fallen.

For once, he didn’t argue.

“What’s that make it?”

“Four hundred eighty-nine to forty-two.”

He rolled one shoulder.

“Still forty-two.”

Lyra laughed beside me.

Both boys turned toward us.

The younger one grinned when he saw her.

“Lyra.”

“Still trying to run Layne over?”

“Eventually he’ll stop moving.”

Layne rested his spear against one shoulder.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lyra started toward them, leaving me with the choice of following her or standing by myself at the edge of the field.

I followed.

Layne’s attention shifted to me. He straightened and gave me a polite smile.

Lyra gestured between us.

“Aria, these are the Marlow brothers. Layne and Ash.”

Layne inclined his head.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aria.”

I should probably say something back.

My eyes slipped toward his shoulder.

“Nice to…”

My fingers tightened around the edge of my sleeve.

“M-meet you too.”

Layne’s smile didn’t change.

Ash was less reserved about looking at me.

He looked me over once, making no effort to hide his curiosity.

“You’re pretty strange.”

My eyes snapped toward him.

Lyra sighed.

“Ash.”

“What?” He looked back at me. “Not in a bad way. Everyone around here speaks like they practice in a mirror.”

“I… kind of do that.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

My attention drifted toward his hands.

The daggers were gone.

“You were watching them,” Ash said.

I hesitated, then nodded.

“They’re… kind of hard not to.”

That seemed to please him.

“Finally someone gets it.”

“How do you make them?”

Ash raised one hand.

“Check this out.”

Black mana gathered around his palm.

The process was slower now that he wasn’t moving. A dark shape stretched outward from his hand, rough and uneven at first, before compressing into something solid. The handle formed beneath his fingers. Then the blade sharpened from base to tip until a black dagger rested in his grip.

A few seconds later, violet electricity crawled across it.

I leaned forward.

Ash turned the blade so I could see it better.

“The dagger’s a construct. I make the shape first, hold it together, then run lightning through it.”

“So the lightning is separate?”

“Yeah. If the construct isn’t stable first, the whole thing falls apart.”

I stepped a little closer.

The blade almost looked metallic, but the surface didn’t reflect the sunlight properly. The black seemed deeper than it should have been, like I was looking into something instead of at it.

“Can you make anything that way?”

“In theory.”

Ash tilted the dagger in his hand.

“Bigger weapons cost more mana and take longer to form. These are fast. If one breaks or I lose it, I make another.”

Layne nodded toward the weapon.

“They suit him.”

Ash glanced at him.

“That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It was.”

Ash accepted that without making anything more of it.

“How long did it take you to learn?”

“A while.”

He turned it once in his hand.

“The first ones were ugly. Some didn’t last more than a few seconds.”

“What did you do?”

“Made another.”

The answer came immediately.

“That’s p-pretty cool.”

Ash gave me a satisfied grin.

“Sure is.”

Ash opened his hand.

The dagger lost its shape.

Darkness peeled away from the blade in thin streams, followed by a few fading sparks of violet light.

I watched until the last of it disappeared.

Lyra tugged her glove back.

“Aria here just learned magic this morning.”

Layne’s attention moved to her hand.

“You healed that?”

“It was just a scrape.”

“This morning?”

“Mhm.”

Layne looked at the smooth skin on Lyra’s knuckle before returning his attention to me.

“That’s a good start.”

“It took me a lot of tries.”

“Good.”

I looked up.

That wasn’t the response I’d expected.

Layne shifted his spear to his other hand.

“The first reinforcement exercise I learned was simple. Hold mana through the spear and keep it there when the weapon strikes something.”

He tapped the shaft lightly against the ground.

“I spent weeks losing the spear on impact. Then I learned to hold it through one strike, only to lose it the moment I moved my feet. By the time I could use it properly in a fight, I’d repeated the same exercise more times than I could count.”

“You still do it,” Ash said.

Layne nodded.

“Every morning.”

“You still practice the first thing you learned?”

“Of course.”

There wasn’t even a hint of embarrassment in his answer.

“Being able to do something once is useful. Being able to do it when you’re tired, distracted, or frightened is what matters.”

That reminded me of piano.

Mom used to make me run scales until my fingers felt like they were moving without me. Same notes. Same patterns. Over and over until I could do them while barely thinking about them.

A lot of boring repetition before anything looked impressive, and then some more.

“The difficult part in the beginning,” Layne continued, “is that everything requires your attention.

Finding the mana. Moving it. Holding it. Eventually those stop being separate decisions.”

“That would be nice.”

“It will take time.”

He said it plainly.

Not you’ll get it soon.

Not you’re a natural.

Just time.

“I can do time.”

Layne gave me a small nod.

“That’s most of it.”

Lyra glanced toward him.

“Is Jarvis around?”

The question pulled my attention back.

Their uncle.

The reason we’d come here in the first place.

Layne shook his head.

“He left before sunrise. One of the western patrol captains requested him.”

Lyra frowned.

“Something happen?”

“Nothing serious from what I heard. A patrol failed to report on schedule, so he went to look into it himself. If that’s all it is, he should be back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

The disappointment slipped out before I could keep it in.

Layne looked toward me.

“Were you hoping to speak with him?”

“Um… Lyra thought he might know something I need.”

“Aria’s trying to identify some strange magic,” Lyra said. “I figured Jarvis might be able to help with that massive library of yours.”

Layne’s expression grew more attentive.

“What kind of magic?”

I hesitated.

“Crimson.”

Ash’s eyes sharpened.

“Crimson magic? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Neither have I,” Layne said. “But Uncle Jarvis knows the archives far better than either of us. If the name appears in an old campaign record or spellbook, he’ll know where to begin.”

Some of the tension eased.

“Then… could I come back tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll tell him Lyra is bringing someone to see him. If he returns early, he’ll know to expect you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ash rolled one shoulder and glanced toward the open field.

“I’m going again.”

Layne looked at him.

“You’re done.”

“I know what I did wrong.”

“Then remember it tomorrow.”

Ash frowned but didn’t argue this time.

Lyra turned toward me.

“Come on. We’ve got somewhere else to be.”

I followed her a step before looking back.

“Where are we going?”

“The baths.”

I stopped.

“The… baths?”

Lyra kept walking.

“Hot water helps when you’re learning mana control. Easier to relax, easier to feel what’s happening inside you.”

That made sense.

Unfortunately, my brain had gotten stuck on a different part.

“Wait. Like a public bath?”

Lyra glanced back at me.

“Aww, you look terrified. Like I’m walking you into a trap.”

“N-no, I was just curious is all.”

“Good. Then you’ll never see it coming.”

I stared at her.

“Wait. See what?”

Lyra’s smile widened.

Then she turned around and kept walking.

“Lyra?”

“We’ll get a private room, Aria.”

Behind us, Ash called out, “You’re leaving training for a bath?”

Lyra didn’t even turn around.

“We have bigger things to do than watch you get thrown into the grass again.”

Layne rested his spear against his shoulder.

“Until next time, Aria.”

I lifted my hand in a small wave.

“B-bye.”

My voice barely carried across the field.

Layne gave me a small nod before turning back toward his brother.

I lowered my hand and hurried after Lyra.

The estate disappeared behind us as we headed farther into Rovelle.

The boots Otto had given me were heavier than anything I normally wore. Every step landed against the stone with a solid clack.

After a few streets, I caught myself putting a little extra weight into each step just to hear it.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Lyra looked over.

“Are you doing something with your feet?”

I immediately stopped.

“No.”

“You were walking normally a minute ago.”

“I… am walking normally.”

She glanced down at my boots, then back at me.

“I was wondering if the healing had done something strange to you.”

“I… I just like the sound.”

“Well, keep stomping if it makes you happy. Just don’t blame me when everyone starts turning around to see what’s coming.”

I walked more quietly after that.

It wasn’t as satisfying.

Rovelle had gotten busier while we were at the estate. Shop fronts were open now, carts moved through the wider streets, and people seemed to have collectively decided they all needed to be somewhere at the same time.

I was getting better at not staring at everything.

Mostly.

Something pale-blue moved inside one of the lanterns above us. I slowed to get a better look.

Instead of a flame, something no bigger than my thumb drifted around a clear crystal suspended behind the glass.

“Lyra?”

She followed my eyes.

“What’s that?”

“That there is a glow-wisp.”

“Is that, like, a creature?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

I looked at her.

“Wouldn’t people… know that?”

“You’d think.

Some people insist they’re little creatures. Others say they’re spirits.”

The wisp circled lazily around the crystal.

“Do you… think it’s a spirit?”

Lyra pondered.

“Spirit.”

“Why?”

“Not sure. I’ve never really thought about it, honestly.”

That’s fair, I guess.

“Do people… catch them?”

“Not quite. They’re attracted to those crystals. Hang one up and eventually a wisp will settle around it.”

Lyra slowed beside me and looked up at the lantern.

“They come from the marshes. You should see them out there at night. Hundreds of them floating over the water and through the reeds.”

Her expression softened.

“Might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I looked back at the tiny light behind the glass.

“Really?”

“Mhm. Kind of a shame they’re so good at lighting the way. Some marshes are a lot darker than they used to be.”

The wisp bumped gently against the side of the lantern before drifting back toward its crystal.

If I ever needed money here, I could just invent the light bulb and become horribly rich, right?

Easy.

Electricity goes in…

And then…

I frowned.

There was a wire involved.

Probably.

Something got hot?

I had used light bulbs my entire life. How did I not know what happened inside one?

Never mind.

Rovelle would have to survive without my technological genius.

The wisp continued floating around like it had absolutely no interest in helping settle the argument over whether it was alive or haunting the lantern.

The bathhouse came into view ahead of us.

Steam escaped through narrow openings near the top of the stone walls, and several of the same blue wisps floated inside lanterns beneath the roof. People came and went through a wide wooden entrance.

I could hear voices inside before we even reached it.

A lot of voices.

Private room.

Lyra had said private room.

I reminded myself of that several times while following her inside.

A woman behind the front counter seemed to recognize Lyra. They exchanged a few words while Lyra paid, and then we were handed two folded towels.

Lyra looked at me.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

“I’m just… looking around.”

“Ah. Very serious research. Did they have water where you’re from? It’s actually very useful for cleaning.”

I was still trying to think of something to say back when she started down the hallway.

I hurried to stay close behind her.

We passed an opening that led toward the louder part of the bathhouse. Near the end of the hall, she stopped at a wooden door.

“Here we are.”

She opened it and let me through.

The room beyond was simple. A single stone pool sat recessed into the floor, steam curling off the water. A wooden bench ran along one wall, and there was a smaller basin near the entrance.

Most importantly, there was nobody else inside.

Then Lyra shut the door behind us.

She propped her spear against the wall and started taking off her gear.

I turned toward the bench.

Getting undressed in front of someone still sounded awful, but my legs had never felt this worn out. Maybe I should’ve walked around more back home. Not that my bedroom offered much of a track.

Still, the thought of sinking into that water was starting to win.

I reached for the lacing of my vest, then stopped with my fingers resting against it.

Lyra glanced over.

“You know I can turn around, right?”

My face warmed.

“…Could you?”

“Course.”

She turned toward the pool without making anything of it, busying herself with untying her hair.

That helped.

I still took longer than I needed to, but at least I stopped pretending the bench required my full attention. With Lyra facing away, I worked through the rest as quickly as I could and left my clothes in a loose pile behind me.

Lyra was already in the water. Her grayish-purple hair hung loose around her shoulders, and the steam softened the edges of the room around her.

She stayed facing the other way.

“Ready?”

“Mhm.”

Only then did she glance back.

I crossed to the pool and slipped into the water until it reached my shoulders.

The heat hit me.

For a few seconds it was almost too much.

Then something in my body gave up all at once.

“Okay… wow.”

Lyra smiled from across the water.

“If we had one of these at the training grounds, I’d either be unstoppable or a useless pile of mush.”

I leaned back against the stone.

My feet already hurt less.

So did my shoulders.

I hadn’t realized how much walking we’d done until my body stopped complaining about it.

For a while, neither of us talked.

It wasn’t uncomfortable.

The water moved softly whenever one of us shifted, and the noise from the rest of the bathhouse barely made it through the walls.

I glanced across at her.

“Um… Lyra?”

“Mhm?”

“How long have you worked for the Marlows?”

“A few years now.”

She thought about it.

“Wasn’t really something I planned. They needed somebody to help with training, and I knew how to fight. At first it was just work.”

Lyra rested her head against the stone behind her.

“I thought teaching was going to be miserable, actually. My father spent half my childhood correcting my feet and making me repeat the same thing until I stopped getting it wrong. I remember thinking there was no chance I’d ever willingly do that to somebody else.”

A small smile crossed her face.

“Turns out I became that person anyway.”

I smiled.

“The estate just kind of stuck,” Lyra continued. “It’s steady work, I like the people, and they mostly leave me alone to do things my way. Ash and Layne were around, so I ended up training with them here and there too.”

She rested her arms along the edge of the pool.

“I didn’t have some grand plan that brought me there. Most things in my life haven’t worked like that. Something makes sense, I try it, and if I still like it after a while, I keep doing it.”

I looked down at the water.

“That sounds… nice.”

“It can be.”

Lyra closed her eyes again.

“Sometimes you look around one day and realize something stopped being temporary without you noticing.”

Neither of us said anything after that.

I rested my head against the stone and let the quiet linger.

A few minutes passed before Lyra sat up and rolled one shoulder.

“Alright. Before we completely melt, we should probably use the bath for what I dragged you here for.”

“It actually helps with magic?”

“Quite a bit. Most people tense up when they’re learning. Shoulders, arms, hands. Half the time they don’t even realize they’re doing it. Warm water makes that harder.”

I became suddenly aware of how loose my own shoulders felt.

“So being relaxed makes mana easier to move?”

“Usually. You’re not fighting your own body as much.”

Lyra smiled.

“Hands.”

I brought them up.

“Don’t try to heal anything yet. Just find your mana. Once you have it, leave it where it is for a second.”

I closed my eyes.

I searched for that strange pressure I’d felt this morning, faint enough that I could lose it simply by concentrating too hard.

It took a while.

Then I found it.

“I… think I have it.”

“Good. Don’t move it yet.”

I held still.

The feeling stayed.

Barely.

“Now bring it toward your hand. Slowly. Don’t shove it there.”

The pressure moved through my arm before thinning out somewhere around my elbow.

“It disappeared.”

“That’s alright. Start again.”

I kept my eyes closed. The next attempt reached my wrist.

On the third, the pressure finally settled into my palm and stayed there long enough that I was sure I hadn’t imagined it.

“It’s… in my hand now.”

“Mhm. Hold it there.”

I tried to keep the feeling steady instead of immediately doing something with it.

For a few seconds, it worked.

“There,” Lyra said.

I opened my eyes.

A faint green glow curled around two of my fingers.

“I wasn’t trying to do that.”

“You let too much mana collect in one place.”

“Is that bad?”

“Not right now. You’re learning what too much feels like.”

The light faded.

Lyra had me repeat it a few more times. The bath really was helping. Moving the mana still took concentration, but my arm didn’t feel like it was resisting me the way it had earlier. Before long, I could get the feeling into my palm without losing it halfway there.

Lyra rubbed the top of one shoulder.

That was when I noticed the faint purple bruise there.

“Did that happen training?”

“Mhm. Caught the shaft of a practice spear yesterday before I found ya. Bad block.”

I hesitated.

“I know I asked you this morning, but… why don’t you heal it?”

She glanced at the bruise.

“Because I don’t need to.”

I waited.

Lyra seemed to realize that wasn’t quite enough of an answer.

“A bruise tells me I got hit. Sore muscles tell me when I’ve pushed too hard. If I erased every little pain the moment I noticed it, I’d start forgetting that getting hurt is supposed to matter.”

“But if you can fix it…”

“I can fix it if I need to.

That doesn’t mean I should fix everything. I’d rather remember that a bad block hurts. Makes me less likely to make the same mistake tomorrow.”

That made a lot of sense.

Lyra smiled.

“Besides, leaving it gave me something for you to practice on.”

She turned slightly so the bruise faced me.

“You managed a scrape this morning. This is harder. Most of the damage is underneath the skin, so you can’t just stare at the part you want gone.”

“How do I know what I’m supposed to heal?”

“Eventually you’ll be able to feel what’s wrong.”

“Eventually?”

“You started this morning, Aria.”

“Right.”

I moved closer and gathered the mana into my palm again.

A weak green glow spread over my hand as I tried to picture whatever was damaged beneath the bruise instead of the purple mark itself.

For a few seconds, I thought something might be happening.

Then the light faded.

Lyra rolled her shoulder.

“Still there.”

I frowned.

“Don’t worry about it. Getting the mana where you wanted was the important part.”

She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.

“My shoulder can survive another day.”

The calm I’d felt after Lyra healed me that morning wasn’t quite as strong anymore. It hadn’t disappeared, but little things were starting to slip through again.

I thought about all the people around us in Rovelle, then imagined losing sight of Lyra somewhere in the crowd. One wrong turn, a street I didn’t recognize, and I’d have to stop someone I didn’t know and admit I was lost.

My stomach tightened. Heat crept up my neck, and my heartbeat started climbing with it.

Lyra still had her eyes closed.

The bruise hadn’t worked, but this feeling was different. I knew exactly where it was.

I reached for my mana again.

As it settled, a faint green light appeared beneath the surface. Instead of trying to make the thoughts disappear, I focused on what they were doing to me.

The knot in my stomach loosened. The heat in my face eased with it, and a few seconds later my heartbeat no longer felt like it was trying to get my attention.

The thoughts were still there.

Getting lost still sounded awful, and asking some stranger for directions sounded worse.

But the rest had quieted down.

I stared at the light until it disappeared.

That was… useful.

I almost told Lyra.

Then I’d have to explain why I’d made myself imagine losing her in the first place, and why asking a stranger for directions was enough to make me feel like that.

I’ll tell her later.

Lyra opened one eye.

“You’ve gotten very quiet over there.”

“I was… thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.

I’m not healing you if something happens.”

I stared at her.

“That’s not very reassuring.”

She smiled.

A little while later, Lyra stood and stepped out of the pool.

I looked up without thinking.

Her damp hair fell loose around her face instead of being tied back like usual. Without the ponytail and all the gear she wore everywhere, she looked softer somehow.

“Y-you’re really pretty.”

It came out before I had time to reconsider it.

Lyra paused.

“Thank you.”

My face went hot.

Very hot.

I lowered myself inch by inch until the water reached my mouth.

Why did I say that out loud?

Lyra wrapped one of the towels around herself. When I still hadn’t moved, she picked up the other.

I saw it leave her hand a second too late.

The towel landed directly over my face.

“Hurry up.”

I pulled it away and peeked over the edge.

Lyra had already turned around.

That helped.

I climbed out and wrapped the towel around myself as securely as I could.

“Come here a second,” Lyra said. “There’s something else that’s good for practicing control.”

Near the bench, a broad vent had been built directly into the ceiling. Underneath it was a smooth stone plate set into the wall.

It looked suspiciously familiar.

I wondered if I’d somehow found an electric hand dryer in another world.

Lyra placed her palm against the stone plate.

“This plate controls the runestone above us. It already has wind mana stored inside, so you don’t have to cast anything yourself. You just give the plate a little of your mana to wake it up.”

A faint symbol appeared beneath her palm.

Warm air flowed down from the ceiling, stirring the ends of her damp hair.

She let it run for a few seconds before taking her hand away. The air stopped immediately.

“You don’t need much. That’s why these are good for beginners. You can feel how little mana it actually takes to activate something.”

I looked between the plate and the vent.

“And it dries you?”

“Mhm.”

That was much better than a hair dryer.

Probably.

Lyra stepped aside.

“Go ahead.”

I moved beneath the vent and put my palm against the stone.

I had to find the feeling again. It came a little easier this time, but I still wasn’t entirely sure how much counted as a little.

I pushed some mana into the plate.

The symbol flashed.

Warm air slammed down on me.

“Eek!”

My hair whipped across my face.

The towel tore loose before I could grab it.

I yelped again and reached for it on instinct, which meant my hand left the wall.

The wind stopped.

Unfortunately, I’d already lost my balance.

My feet slipped and I landed hard on my butt.

For a second, I just sat there.

Then I saw the towel beside me.

I snatched it up and wrapped it around myself so fast my hands barely cooperated.

My entire face burned.

Lyra stepped toward me.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.”

My voice came out painfully high.

She glanced down at me.

“Want me to heal it?”

“Nuh-uh.”

I shook my head.

“No way.”

Lyra’s mouth curled into a smile.

“Pleeease?”

“No.”

I got back to my feet with one hand clamped around the towel and made straight for my clothes. Whatever embarrassment I’d had about getting dressed in front of Lyra was suddenly losing to the much stronger desire to have several layers between me and the rest of the room.

Lyra turned around without being asked while I hurried into everything. My fingers refused to cooperate with the lacing on my vest at first, and having to start it over only made my face hotter.

Once it was finally tied, I gathered the rest of my things against my chest and headed for the door before Lyra could decide my bruised pride needed healing too.

My hair was dry. The rest of me was dry enough.

I wasn’t going anywhere near that runestone again.

The walk back through Rovelle gave my face enough time to return to something close to its normal color. My legs felt better after the bath, although the new ache every time I took a longer step was a pretty good reminder of how I’d ended it.

When we passed the lantern from earlier, the little blue wisp was still circling its crystal. I glanced up at it, remembered the marshes, and kept pace with Lyra this time.

The Silver Hearth appeared between the buildings ahead, and through its front window I spotted Kai stretched out exactly where we’d left her beside the fireplace.

“Kai hasn’t moved.”

“She probably moved for food.”

“I… don’t think that counts.”

Inside, Kai lifted her head just far enough to look at us. Her tail gave the floor a single lazy thump before she settled her chin back onto her paws, apparently satisfied that our return didn’t require anything more strenuous.

I was starting to understand her.

I crouched beside Kai and ran my hand over the fur between her ears. She leaned into it without bothering to open her eyes.

The bath had been incredible. My feet barely hurt anymore, my shoulders felt loose, and I was still warm enough that sitting beside the fire almost seemed unnecessary.

The runestone part could stay permanently separate from my opinion of the bath.

Somehow, though, I was exhausted.

I’d been tired before we went, but now it felt like somebody had added weights to my arms and legs while I wasn’t paying attention. Even keeping my hand moving through Kai’s fur was starting to feel like work.

I wondered if using mana actually took energy out of you.

I’d spent most of the morning struggling just to find mine, then even longer trying to move it where I wanted. At the bath, Lyra had me doing it over and over again, and I’d used enough on that runestone to nearly launch myself across the room.

Maybe that added up.

Or maybe walking around the city for most of the day had exposed how horribly out of shape I was.

That was also very possible.

My hand stopped moving.

Kai didn’t seem bothered.

I let my eyes close.

“Aria?”

I opened them again.

Lyra was standing a few feet away.

“Mhm?”

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep sitting up.”

“I’m just tired.”

“I gathered that much.”

I rubbed one eye.

“Does mana do that? Make you tired?”

“It can, especially when you’re new at controlling it. You’re probably putting more effort into every little bit of it than you realize.”

“So I’m not imagining it.”

“No, but I wouldn’t give the magic all the credit.” Lyra glanced down at me. “You’ve also spent most of the day walking, and I’m starting to suspect you didn’t do a whole lot of that back home.”

I looked down at Kai.

“…Not really.”

“Then there’s your other problem.”

There went that excuse.

Lyra nodded toward the stairs.

“You should get some sleep before Kai convinces you the floor is comfortable.”

The stairs looked much less appealing than the floor beside Kai.

“Do I have to go all the way up there?”

“Yes. I know. Terrible.”

I stared at them.

“Fiiiine.”

I pushed myself to my feet.

Kai lifted her head as I stood, watched me, then settled back down without any intention of coming with me.

I looked at her.

“Thanks.”

Her tail thumped once against the floor.

Lyra shook her head.

“Goodnight, Aria.”

“Goodnight.”

I made it upstairs, into my room, and through the absolute minimum amount of effort required to get ready for bed.

The mattress sank beneath me when I finally climbed under the blanket.

Maybe tomorrow I’d ask Lyra how much mana someone could use before it became a problem.

Or maybe I really was just that out of shape.

I didn’t get far enough to decide.