I didn’t recall hearing plans for an official display. Technically, all noncommercial magic usage was legal as long as it didn’t break any other laws, but large-scale, amateur public conjurings were rare. What was this?
Any excuse to leave Granduncle Raymond and his disparaging remarks behind seemed like a good one. I hurried down to the front door and out into the August heat. The intersection where 81st Street opened up to Madison Avenue would give me the best view.
I stopped on the corner amid the acrid tang of car exhaust and craned my neck. My jaw went slack, and the twisted feeling inside me was swept off by a wave of awe.
The unwinding spiral I’d observed from the window was merely the tail—the tail of an immense serpentine dragon soaring across the sky. The rich green-and-blue speckles of its scales darkened to violet along its belly and blazed orange at the tips of its wings and the crest of its head. The illusion swerved around a puff of cloud, and the hues shifted as if reflecting the sunlight.
The vibrations of the magic tingled in my ears, on my tongue, and over my skin, pulsing in time with the dragon’s dance. The sensation drew an ache like homesickness into my chest.
Such a conjuring required not only power but meticulously controlled skill. Hearkening the magic, I knew I’d never cast anything even half that potent.
The Madison Avenue traffic had slowed. Astonished faces peered through windshields at the sky. If I found the dragon impressive, I couldn’t imagine how it struck the magicless.
None of their heads turned at the flit of a smaller conjuring that streaked past me: someone’s letter of evaluation. A shiver of anticipation shot down my spine, but there was no telling whom it was meant for. This segment of the Upper East Side had been an enclave for mages since well before the Unveiling, and all of us who’d turned sixteen in the last school year would receive our letter today.
After Granduncle Raymond’s comments about what awaited me once I received mine, I’d rather look at the dragon.
A bright voice rang out behind me. “There you are!” Prisha slung a slim brown arm over my shoulders. “Gawping at the sky?”
I elbowed my best friend lightly. “I’d say that’s worth gawping at.”
Prisha tilted her head to contemplate the dragon. “Ah, I could pull that off if I really wanted to.”
“I’d like to see that,” I said, keeping my tone light. Prisha liked to act as if she didn’t attempt major castings because she simply didn’t care to, so I might have been the only person who knew she cared very much—about how people saw her, about their expectations of her. Although the Mathurs were old money, they were the newest of new magic. Prisha was the first to show any talent. Everyone else in our year at the Academy had magic intertwined through their ancestry, like I did.
Better to do a lot of little things very well, Prisha had told me in one of her rawer moments, than to try something big and bungle it and watch them sneer as if they knew all along that I’d never measure up. Given the number of textbooks I’d smuggled out of the Academy library to page through in secret in my bedroom—because everyone at the Academy expected a Lockwood to come by his talent effortlessly—I had no trouble sympathizing.
“Probably a Chosen, right?” I said with a nod to the sky. “That’d be one way to celebrate.”
“I could think of a few better,” Prisha said.
At the slight edge in her voice, I glanced over to search her face. Was she worried? She ranked in the upper half of all our classes, even if not by a large margin. The college accepted a varied number of novices each summer, but they always took about two thirds of any academy year. She was a shoo-in.
Before I could say as much, Callum Geary stalked out of the building opposite us. Long skinny legs holding up a stout torso balancing a boxy head topped with a sprinkling of russet hair—a haphazard figure that matched his erratic temperament.
“What’s the big deal out here?” he demanded.
He must have noticed us from the window. The Gearys had money but not as much as some. They owned only the second floor of that divided townhouse. He wouldn’t have been able to make out the dragon itself from there.
I motioned wordlessly. It was my policy not to speak to Callum unless absolutely necessary. That was easier than you might expect, considering we were classmates and near neighbors, because Callum rarely cared what anyone except him had to say about anything.
He ambled across the street toward us, crossed his arms, and purposefully-by-accident smacked his elbow into my ribs. Squinting up at the dragon, he let out a snort. “How pretty,” he said. “It must be a girl conjuring that—or a fruit, I suppose.”
Prisha’s arm tensed against my shoulders. Did Callum even know he’d just insulted her twice in one go?
“Thanks for weighing in,” I said, dry as dust, and remembered why I had policies about Callum when he trained his narrow stare on me. What talent he lacked in casting, he made up for with inventiveness of other sorts. The last time he’d given me that stare was in seventh year, shortly after which his hand had “slipped” to staple my sweater sleeve to the back of my hand.
I suspected he’d been restraining himself at least a little all this time, hoping that if he wasn’t too blatant of a bully, he’d still be Chosen despite his terrible grades. If he was Dampered after today, which he almost certainly would be, he wouldn’t have even that small motive to rein himself in.
But it was still today, the Day of Letters, so Callum had larger concerns than me. He swung around with a ram of his heel that would have broken toes if I hadn’t yanked my foot out of the way, and sauntered back into his house. The door thudded shut behind him.
“Thank the Fates we won’t have to deal with him at the college,” I said under my breath. After the procedure was complete, the Dampered took on apprenticeships tailored to their remaining fragment of magical ability.
“Indeed.” Prisha ruffled my hair and then started to pull me back toward my house. “Your bangs have gotten all floppy again, Finn. You need an occasional haircut if you’re going to look civilized, you know.”
“And trick people into believing I am civilized?” I said. “That seems unfair.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re the least boorish person I know. When was the last time you even inconvenienced anyone?”
My thoughts hurtled back to the conversation I’d overheard a half hour ago—to the inconvenience I was to my entire family. As we paused by my front door, I took minor comfort in seeing my granduncle’s Lexus had departed.
“Whatever,” I said shortly. Prisha gave me a questioning look. I might have told her about the epic failure of my conjured shield and the comments I’d overheard, but not now, not here on the street. I grasped at a change of subject. “How was the club last night?”
“The usual,” she said with a shrug. “Drinks and music and lots of pretty girls. Some of them are straight, by the way. Next time I’ll drag you along.” Her eyes glinted with mischief. We both knew my coordination on a dance floor resembled a drunken antelope.
“Then I couldn’t be your cover story for your parents.”
“Oh, I’m sure we could—”
She cut herself off as a bright beam flitted into view. It hit my door and transformed into a small ivory envelope.
The twisting in my gut returned. I detached my letter of evaluation and ran my finger over the sealed flap.
“Well, open it!” Prisha said. “I know you’re in.”
“Of course,” I said. “Because I’m a Lockwood.”
“No. Because even the Confed has to know that stubborn determination is at least as good a superpower as flashy wand-waving.”
She spoke with such assurance the clenching inside me relaxed. We were going to take on all of it—the college, whatever careers they threw at us—the two of us, together, as always.
I tore open the envelope and pulled out the crisp paper inside. My gaze dropped straight to the stark black lettering halfway down the page.
r /> We are pleased to announce that Finnegan Lockwood has been chosen for admission to the College of the North American Confederation of Mages.
“Congrats,” Prisha said, clapping me on the back. “All in the world is as it should be.”
“Yes.” I’d expected a rush of emotion reading the words, but all I felt was dull discomfort.
It occurred to me then that Prisha had never said why she’d come looking for me. “Shouldn’t you be at home, waiting for your letter?”
“Ah, well.” The grin she offered me faltered.
“Pree?” A chill jabbed through my stomach.
“I just wanted to make sure you’d gotten yours,” she said. “And it arrived with good timing, because it appears my visit is over.”
“Prisha!” her eldest brother called, coming into view on the other side of the street. He strode across to us. “I’m glad you’re predictable. No phone again?”
Prisha made a not-entirely-believable gesture of apology. One of the advantages of being born into a family of Dulls, she’d said to me more than once. Leave my phone at home, and they can’t harass me.
“Father wants to discuss preparations with you,” Amardeep said. “You’ve had time to tell Finn by now, haven’t you?”
“Tell me what?” If she’d already gotten her letter, she’d have been waving it in my face. Unless...
“It doesn’t make a difference,” Prisha told me. “I’m not going to be Dampered. I’m taking the Exam.”
“What?” She turned to go, but I grabbed her wrist, waiting until she looked at me. “If you weren’t Chosen, you’ve got to appeal. The Confed makes mistakes. This has to be a mistake.”
She’d ranked higher than me in all our classes. She’d done everything anyone could have asked.
“An appeal will take weeks. And if I lose, then the Exam will be over and I won’t have any choice in the matter,” Prisha said. Then, more softly, she added, “I’ve already declared, Finn.”
“Let’s go, Prisha,” Amardeep said. “There’s a lot to cover.”
Preparations, he’d said. How could she prepare? No one who hadn’t gone through the Mages’ Exam knew what the trials entailed, other than that the Confed made them brutally hard to ensure those vying for a second chance at the college deserved their spots.
The handful who made Champion each year got an excellent deal, set up with a prominent mage as a mentor to help them catch up with their Chosen peers. However, where they succeeded, dozens didn’t. The penalty for rejecting the Circle’s judgment unwisely was harsh. Those who failed had their magical ability not Dampered but utterly burned out of them. A few examinees didn’t just fail but died during each year’s Exam.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Prisha said in her more usual brisk way. “I’m sure the Exam isn’t half as hard as the stories make out. I’ll see you soon.”
Her hug was so swift I didn’t have time to return it before she hurried after her brother.
But, Pree, I thought, dread gripping me. It didn’t make sense.
My hand closed around my letter, creasing the paper. I shoved it into my pocket and pushed open my front door.
The sight of the foyer with its antique furniture and molded ceiling sent acid into the back of my mouth. In that moment, I hated the house and all the old-magic history it represented. No matter what Prisha said, she knew as well as I did that the Circle’s decision for me hadn’t been about “determination.”
“Finn?” Dad came around the curve in the staircase and halted when he saw me. “It arrived?”
“Yes,” I said. “Chosen, of course. But Prisha wasn’t. She’s... she’s going to take the Exam.”
Dad’s expression flickered. I thought I saw relief there alongside concern—and a certain resignation. “I’m sorry,” he said, walking the rest of the way down. “But if that’s what she wishes to do, it’s her choice.”
“She shouldn’t have had to make it,” I said. “She should have been Chosen! She had the talent. What in Hades’s name is the point of Dampering if we’re going to lose mages like her to it?”
“The Circle has always needed to make difficult decisions about who and how many they can keep proper order with,” Dad said. “And now... just one generous ruling resulting in a mage gone off the rails could undo the harmony we’ve managed to achieve since the Unveiling.”
“No one could think Prisha is going to become some sort of criminal.”
“New-magic candidates have no established family record of behavior or loyalty. The Circle has higher requirements for skill to overcome that basic concern. If there’s anything worrisome in the family history, they take that into account as well. Which isn’t to say I agree with all of their reasoning—”
Normally Dad’s calm, measured way of speaking comforted me. Now I only felt ill. “That isn’t reasoning. That’s... that’s just prejudice.”
“I understand why you’re upset, but this could be a good chance for her, Finn. If she makes Champion, she’ll have the opportunity to improve her abilities through individual guidance, with all the avenues that will open up for her.”
She should have had that opportunity without risking all her magic. If anyone should have had to fight for it...
It should have been me.
“I want to give her my spot,” I said abruptly.
Dad’s eyebrows rose. “You know it doesn’t work that way. What the Circle decided for Prisha is completely independent from who was Chosen.”
I did know that, but how could I support it? I’d realized I hadn’t fully earned my acceptance into the college, but at least my gain hadn’t hurt anyone.
My heart started thudding. I’d been ready to challenge my career placement. Maybe what I ought to challenge was the foundation on which it was based. I couldn’t give Prisha my spot, but I could at least show the Circle I knew what they were doing wasn’t right.
“Have you accepted yet?” Dad asked, and I shook my head. “Well, don’t leave them waiting. Then we should call your mother at the office. She wanted to hear as soon as the letter came.”
He motioned for me to follow him down the hall, but my feet had melded to the floor.
Was I mage enough to meet the Exam’s ordeals? I’d wanted to prove I was worthy of more than being shunted into a convenient spot that needed filling. I should have to prove myself.
Prisha shouldn’t have to face the Circle’s judgment alone.
“Finn?” Dad said.
I fumbled in my pocket for the slip of paper. As I raised the letter to my lips, my pulse beat hot and heavy in my head. My mouth opened.
“Finnegan Lockwood declares for the Mages’ Exam.”
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About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Megan Crewe finds writing about herself much more difficult than making things up. A few definite facts: she lives in Toronto, Canada with her husband and son (and does on occasion say “eh”), she’s always planning some new trip around the world, and she’s spent six years studying kung fu, so you should probably be nice to her. She has been making up stories about magic and spirits and other what ifs since before she knew how to write words on paper. These days the stories are just a lot longer. Along with the Conspiracy of Magic series, she is also the author of Give Up the Ghost, A Mortal Song, Beast, the Fallen World series, and the Earth & Sky trilogy.
Connect with Megan online:
www.megancrewe.com
[email protected] Also by Megan Crewe
Standalone novels
Give Up the Ghost
A Mortal Song
Beast
* * *
The Earth & Sky Trilogy
Earth & Sky
The Clouded Sky
A Sky Unbroken
* * *
The Fallen World Series
The Way We Fall
The Lives We Lost
The Worlds We
Make
Those Who Lived
Megan Crewe, Magic Unmasked
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