“I meant what I said in the car,” he cut in. “We’re not ready to start transitioning in mages who’ve lived in non-magical society as long as your friend has. But going out to Washington, helping those people with your magic—you took a major gamble. I can respect what you were trying to do, and that you managed to do it by calling attention only to yourself.”
I remembered what Mom had said about him worrying about exposing the whole community before they were ready. “I wasn’t planning to do something even that obvious. It was just… It was the only thing I could do when I had to act. I had to save me and Amy—and I couldn’t let the rest of those people die just to protect our secret.”
“Because that’s who you are,” Dad said. “I know you’ve been frustrated with me, for what I have and haven’t done… I’m starting to think maybe my best accomplishment in this life has been how I’ve raised my children, to see things even more clearly than I do.” He gave me a crooked smile. “Many people are angry about what you did, but it’s opened up a lot of discussion too. Seeing a clear example of how beneficial sharing our magic could be has stirred up people who were content to sit on the sidelines before.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Stirred them up to say we should try to integrate?”
“Yes. Change this immense doesn’t happen quickly, but it can come. You may have set in motion the conversation that will pave the way for a world where people like your Amy could be brought into magical society with far fewer consequences.”
A rush of hope rose up in my chest, but it was blunted by one thought. “Where does that leave Amy in the meantime?”
Dad sighed. “For now, I want you to accept that she’s best off living the life she did before. Being a little offbeat, but nothing startling. Nothing magical. Content because she doesn’t know.”
“And if we do start to integrate?”
“Then we’ll see.” His grip on my shoulder tightened. “I understand that she means a lot to you. But even if you don’t totally believe this is what’s best for her, you need to think about what’s best for everyone. People will be watching you to decide whether your example is worth following.”
I didn’t need him to go on. Focusing my energy on the rights of one girl would make me look like a love-addled teenager, not a wise revolutionary. I rubbed my face. Which principles take priority. What mattered more—Amy being able to throw around a bit of magic right now, or building a world where anyone like her could without losing part of their life?
“All right,” I said. “Do I need to worry about this hearing?”
“I’ll be there with you,” Dad said. “We’ll see this through together. All the way to the end.” His smile grew a little. “Now come with me. I think you should be part of the conversation you’ve started.”
He directed me down the hall to the sitting room at the back of the house. The sitting room from which a murmur of conversation was already carrying.
My feet stalled on the threshold. Some twenty faces turned toward us. My mother was there, and Carl Tamsin, and Prof. Kaneko. Several others I recognized more vaguely. And two I couldn’t stop myself from staring at.
My grandfather was sitting in the armchair directly across from me like a king holding court, with a white-haired woman I recognized as another member of the Circle at his right hand.
“Jonathan,” he said in his low, gravelly voice. “I’m glad you could join us. Perhaps your recent experiences can provide us with some insight I’m realizing is much needed within the Confederation.”
For a second my voice caught in my throat. Then I regained my words. “I hope that’s the case,” I said. “Especially if it means taking the first steps toward proper integration with the magicless.”
The corner of my grandfather’s mouth quirked up slightly. “I believe you’ve already taken that first step, young man. But we’re interested in discussing the next ones. If you’re ready for that.”
Resolve settled, hard but sure, in the pit of my stomach. “Absolutely,” I said, taking one of the free chairs.
The risks I’d taken, the time I’d spent with Amy—it wouldn’t be for nothing. I’d make the world she needed. Whatever else happened, I was going to finish what I’d started, all the way to the end.
* * *
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Almost four decades after Magic Unmasked, mages live openly among the magicless. But this freedom has come with new tensions and restrictions that leave 16-year-old novices fighting to keep their magic. Will Rocío and Finn emerge from the Mages’ Exam with their lives—and what will they have to sacrifice along the way? Find out in the first full Conspiracy of Magic novel, Ruthless Magic. Click here to get it now!
Next in the Conspiracy of Magic series
Ruthless Magic (Conspiracy of Magic #1)
In the contest to keep their magic, the only options may be die... or kill.
* * *
Each year, the North American Confederation of Mages assesses every sixteen-year-old novice. Some will be chosen. The rest must undergo a procedure to destroy their magical ability unless they prove themselves in the mysterious and brutal Mages' Exam.
Disadvantaged by her parents' low standing, Rocío Lopez has dedicated herself to expanding her considerable talent to earn a place in the Confederation. Their rejection leaves her reeling—and determined to fight to keep her magic.
Long ashamed of his mediocre abilities, Finn Lockwood knows the Confederation accepted him only because of his prominent family. Declaring for the Exam instead means a chance to confirm his true worth.
Thrown into the testing with little preparation, Rocío and Finn find themselves becoming unlikely allies—and possibly more. But the Exam holds secrets more horrifying than either could have imagined. What are the examiners really testing them for? And as the trials become increasingly vicious, how much are they willing to sacrifice to win?
Get it now!
Ruthless Magic Excerpt
Want to dive into Ruthless Magic right now? Enjoy the first chapter below…
RUTHLESS MAGIC
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1
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Finn
When I’d rehearsed this conversation with my father in my head, I’d been a shining example of wit, passion, and the famous Lockwood composure. Unfortunately, my imagination had lied. I was on the verge of pacing a hole in his study’s Persian rug, and I appeared to have lost my ability to string more than three words together. All of which was extremely bad timing, given that the course of my future as a mage might be decided in the next half hour.
I managed to partly untangle my tongue. “What I mean is, no official decisions have been made yet. For what track I’ll be put on at the college. Right?”
Dad nodded. He’d shut his laptop after he’d welcomed me in, and now he stood by his broad mahogany desk. Behind him, the drapes were pulled back from the tall windows. The warm sunlight pouring in caught on the distinguished sprinkling of silver in his light brown hair.
“The placement committee won’t meet until the letters have all been sent and the acceptances received,” he said.
I drew in a breath. The smells of Dad’s study were a mix of intimidating and comforting: all those ancient leather-bound magical texts on the shelves at my left, the lingering hint of woodsmoke from the fireplace at my right. “And Granduncle Raymond will have some say in my placement. That’s what he’s coming to talk to you about.”
“Undoubtedly.”
Dad sounded calm enough, but that impression wasn’t the whole story. My right thumb spun in a rhythmic circle against my fingertips—a simple casting I’d used so often it’d become automatic. A dissonant ripple of tension sharpened amid the ever-present whisper of magic against my skin. Dad didn’t think Granduncle Raymond was going to have anything inspiring to say about my abilities either. It was scarcely a secret that I was the least favorite grandnephew.
“You will be Chosen, Finn,” Dad added. “There’s no doubt about that.”
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“I know.” The fact of it didn’t settle my nerves. It was one small certainty leading to a vast unknown.
“Of course you’d like to have some say in your career. I’ll try to see that you’re offered a few options.”
My throat constricted. What I’d like was to be able to conduct the magic around us as easily as I could breathe—to conjure and ’chant so well that the College of the North American Confederation of Mages would be begging for my attendance rather than squeezing me in as a token to appease my family.
I’d tried. O gods, how I’d tried. I’d memorized so much ancient Greek and Latin I dreamed in it. I’d pored over texts on technique until my eyes felt ready to bleed, and I’d performed the scales until my voice was hoarse. I’d spent years practicing the meditations and calculations that were supposed to hone the mind and attune it to the magic. So what if none of it had been quite enough? I would keep trying, all the way through college and every day after.
“I’m aware I’m barely ranking above the bottom quarter of my class,” I said—flippantly, to offset the uncomfortable twist in my gut at the admission. “I realize I won’t end up as advisor to the Director of the Joint Staff like Margo or as chief whatever-it-is-he-does-in-that-penthouse-office like Hugh. I just want to be doing something real. Something useful.”
As Dad had done when he was little older than me, campaigning for mages to finally step out of the shadows and fully contribute to society. We have a gift, he often said. It gives us a responsibility to help everyone, not just the magical.
“I want to get on track to enter the National Defense division,” I went on.
Dad’s eyebrows rose slightly. “That work requires a significant measure of applied magic.”
“Yes, and I know I’d have to settle for a minor position because of that. But I’d rather be doing what I can to preserve the country than be head inputter of tax records or secretary of office supplies.”
“I don’t have any direct sway. It’s your granduncle who’ll make the recommendation.”
“Right. So I thought, when he arrives, I could perform a demonstration. Show him how I’ve advanced my skills in a relevant area. To help... inform his recommendation.”
“Hmmm.” Dad rubbed his jaw. “What sort of demonstration are you planning?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I was hoping you could advise. I’m reasonably competent at locating and tracing, though I still need to work on my range. I’ve been building my shielding abilities, and I think I’ve found an enhancement to standard practice that might be useful in certain scenarios. And—”
Interest lit Dad’s face. He leaned back against his desk, his hand resting beside the obsidian paperweight I’d made him when I was seven. He’d kept the damned thing all this time even though the ’chantment on it was so weak that disturbed papers would merely coast more slowly rather than holding in place—unless they were actually beneath the weight, which defeated the purpose of having ’chanted it. I could do a proper job of it now, but it seemed embarrassingly childish to offer.
“Let’s see this shield of yours,” Dad said. “Innovation counts for a lot.”
I straightened the collar of my linen button-down, willing away my nerves. Then I inhaled deeply. The quiver of magical energy tickled over my tongue. If time hadn’t been of the essence, I might have reveled in it for a moment.
With every thought trained on my intent, I rolled the words over my lips at a lilting cadence: “Qua requieverit herba, moenia...” The magic trembled through my muscles and bones as the rhythm of my voice twined with the energy’s innate melody. Some shuddered away from me, as always, but I felt a significant portion resonate in harmony.
Modulating my poetic phrase at a steady volume, I directed the rising hum of magic into a shimmering barrier between Dad and me. My hands lifted with it, guiding my focus. I had to pitch the vibration perfectly so that any offensive casting would bounce off rather than shatter the shield. When I’d asked Prisha to test my last attempt, my construction had held up to a good battering.
I slid into a new phrase, calling a glinting play of light into the shield’s surface—a pattern to soothe the minds of anyone observing it. The effect wasn’t entirely my own invention, but I hadn’t read about it being put to this use before. In the midst of an attack or a bomb scare, presumably reducing panic would be a valuable feature.
My view of Dad had blurred. A smile crossed his lips. He was impressed.
I sang the poetic lines again in a crescendo and pushed the conjured shield up to the ceiling and out to the walls. The energy raced through me, piercing the roots of my teeth and the bases of my fingernails, but I could carry it farther. I’d never cast a barrier much bigger than myself before, but protecting only one person was hardly the scale National Defense required. I should at least—
I pushed a little too hard, too fast, and the magic I’d managed to bend stretched too thin. A tear opened in the shield. It gaped wide before I could catch it, as swiftly as the bag of winds loosed by Odysseus’s sailors. A groan escaped my mouth.
The glittering mass crashed to the floor and shivered away into the air.
Dad’s face fell with it. His shoulders drooped for an instant before he suppressed his immediate reaction.
A hot burn formed behind my eyes. I blinked quickly. The only thing that could make this disaster worse was him witnessing me break into tears.
“Well…” I began. My voice came out a croak. I cleared my throat, my thoughts darting to Granduncle Raymond’s periodic reminiscences of the city’s “golden days.” “Perhaps a cabaret show instead?”
Dad’s lips twitched with amusement: a tiny consolation for my crushing failure.
“I’ll do what I can,” he said. “I know how hard you’ve worked.” He rested his hand on my shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. The gesture only twisted me up more.
Before I could hit on some way to salvage the situation, the doorbell chimed. Granduncle Raymond had arrived early. I trailed after Dad into the hall, but I didn’t quite trust my composure enough to follow him downstairs.
Dad’s smooth tenor and my granduncle’s dry, gravelly bass carried up the stairwell. As always, Granduncle Raymond got straight to the point.
“It’s time we talked about Finnegan.”
“He’s right upstairs—”
“Just the two of us.”
Dad couldn’t argue with that laying-down-the-law tone, not when Granduncle Raymond literally did lay down the laws across all the Confederation with the other nine members of the inner Circle. There were some lines even family didn’t cross.
Their footsteps approached, along with the intermittent tap of Granduncle Raymond’s walking stick. Just for show—the old man’s stout frame still carried him without a hitch. To spare myself being dismissed directly, I ducked into the adjoining guest room.
At the click of the study door shutting, an impulse struck me. It would be a simple thing even for me to ’chant the plaster a touch thinner, temporarily, so the voices would travel through. Normally I wouldn’t have considered listening in on a private conversation, but it was my life they were hashing out.
I sat on the bed’s goose-down duvet and pressed my pale hands to the maroon wall. After riffling through my mental compendium of memorized verses, I settled on a line from a Greek play. I murmured it to send the magic wriggling through the particles of plaster beneath the wallpaper. A chalky taste crept into my mouth.
Granduncle Raymond’s voice filtered through the wall. “...certain expectations of magical performance. We don’t want to put him in a position where he’ll cause us embarrassment.”
I winced.
“I don’t believe that will be a problem,” Dad said tightly.
“He’s your son. I understand. But we need to be realistic. The committee will examine his Academy records and propose a career based on those, within my guidelines. And I expect that proposal to go unchallenged.”
“There isn’t
any chance we could arrange a special curriculum for him, to see if his abilities could be further extended?”
Granduncle Raymond guffawed. “Have you denied him any opportunity in the last sixteen years? He’s had his chance to shine if he were going to.”
I closed my eyes as hot shame washed through me. Dad’s reply was too quiet for me to distinguish the words.
“Keep in mind we have a delicate situation to maintain,” Granduncle Raymond said. “The mage-averse factions within the Dull leadership are making noise again. We haven’t brought any decisive victories abroad in too long. It’s vital that the Confederation as a whole, and the families in the Circle in particular, appear competent to anyone looking on. Before this... intermingling, a more flexible solution might have been possible.”
“We failed society much more often when we were working in secret,” Dad said with the flatness of an argument he’d made too many times before.
“But at least then the Dulls couldn’t hold our failures against us. Or attack us for faults they merely imagine. Your father...”
I pushed off the bed before Granduncle Raymond could finish his sentence. My grandfather was his trump card in any political argument with my father. Shortly after the Unveiling, Granduncle Raymond’s younger brother Edward had been killed at a public conference turned anti-magic riot.
Dad spoke of him as a hero. Granduncle Raymond made him sound like a victim of misguided principles.
As I wandered across the room, a flash of unnatural color outside the guest bedroom window caught my eye. Frowning, I stepped up to the glass.
Partly hidden by the branches of the elm outside, a spiral of colorful sparkles gleamed against the muted blue of the sky. The image was clearly magical.