Everything was set in stone, Grayson could see it playing out before his eyes. The Lorcanians would win the war at last, prove their strength and deserving right to be called a Northern Power and at the same time, Orcon’s wretched leader and monarchy would fall, just as it should have so long ago. Tarrland would be an easier target to deal with in the aftermath.
But right now, in that office, all that stood in his way, his victory for Lorcania and for himself sat behind a circular desk with pursed lips.
Madam Matilda.
“Let me fully grasp just exactly what you – and the King – are expecting of me,” Matilda said slowly. The expression on her face was unreadable so Grayson couldn’t quite tell if she would agree to his plan or not. “You want me to handpick the finest of my students, mostly the youth, and sharpen them into the deadliest Imaginists possible? All within a day?”
“Oh no, Madam, most certainly not in a day,” Grayson corrected quickly and plastered on the charm. “Just a list of potentials. We both know it even took me a while to fully grasp my own training. However fast as possible is all the King is asking.”
“Grayson,” she sighed, frustrated. “This is what you are asking. I know what you’re planning and you are willing to put my best students in danger all for a personal revenge plan.”
“It benefits your students, the country, the King and myself,” he argued, hands grasping the armrests of his chair tightly. “Everybody wins.”
Her grey eyes softened with understanding. “I know the feeling of vengeance, Grayson. I know the feeling of great power that imagination gives you, how it makes you feel like you can accomplish anything. Like your revenge.”
He stiffened but made no comment as she continued on.
“But it is never the answer. Let the Almighty run life’s course.”
Grayson pursed his lips. He respected the Almighty, believed that his skills as an Imaginist were given to him as a blessing, not a tool for revenge.
But he couldn’t help the dark, churn of emotions raging within his veins. He couldn’t deny the fact that no matter how much he respected the Almighty, how much he knew revenge was never a mortal nor an Imaginist’s job, he needed to do this one thing.
“Madam. Please. I am asking not as a pupil but a friend, somebody close to you – somebody you know so well.” Grayson slid down onto the floor on his knees and placed his fists over them, head bowed. He knew he was reeking of desperation. Charm would not work on Matilda but appealing to her empathy might. “I am begging you. Let me do this.”
“The Almighty will not be pleased,” Matilda murmured, her grey eyes scrutinising the young man on his knees, begging her. “You have my permission, only if you can vow an oath before the Almighty that no harm will come to them whatsoever. You vow not to let death come near them. Understood?”
Grayson’s fists loosened as he tilted his head up to face the woman who stood by her desk, peering down at him. He didn’t know if he could promise such a thing. He barely got through his own missions unscathed.
But if this was the only way, then so be it. If all he had to do was ensure the safety of the other Imaginists, he would do it, all for the sake of his conscience, his goal, the sole reason for suggesting this idea to the King in the first place.
“I vow.” He held up a hand, rising to his feet then held it out towards Matilda.
“Do I need it in writing?” Matilda questioned his validity, whether or not he was vowing because he had to or because he could keep it. “Can you truly promise me it?”
Grayson could lose his life saving others on his missions. But he would only need this team for the final blow that would finish this war, make the Orcons and then the Tarrlanders surrender. To lose his life at the end of that mission while the teams returned unharmed was such a small price to pay.
“I promise.”
Matilda’s own hand reached out to meet Grayson’s halfway. They shook on it.
“You know my great-niece will be a part of your team,” Matilda sighed, falling back into her chair as Grayson lifted his head to face her properly. “Her talent surpasses even Amelia’s but neither of them are aware.”
“The Almighty has blessed her greatly,” he murmured in realisation. “Just like me.”
“Which is why I am asking you as a close friend to make sure that she is at her absolute best. Ingrid was bound to be a part of this war one way or another, that meddlesome child.” Matilda’s lips pushed together into a grim line. “I will only let her go if she is trained to her strongest, to her utmost apex of ability. Then I trust that you will make sure no harm befalls her personally.”
His ears picked up on the silent implication behind her words. “Amelia is not fit enough to tutor her. Ingrid needs someone of greater skill than her own to be her best.”
“No, she needs someone of equal or greater skill,” the headmistress corrected, a wry smile tweaking her lips. “Her full potential is still unknown but at this point, you are in fact the more superior tutor for Ingrid.”
A triumphant smirk graced his lips, blue eyes lighting up with zeal. “It would be my pleasure.”
“On the condition that you do not bother her unnecessarily or . . . break her heart.” Matilda’s voice fell at that, a twinge of sympathy in her tone. “The professors are well aware of student relationships, Mr. Kent. We just pretend not to notice.”
“Well Madam, you should also know that my last relationship was two years ago and she’s long gone now.” He kept his face neutral, impassive but the pain and grief behind his eyes were there. He felt it evidently in his chest and he could see the understanding in Matilda’s eyes. He couldn’t hide anything from that woman; she was like his mother.
“Yes, very long gone,” she replied quietly, tucking her hands into her lap. It was a topic that neither of them wished to discuss. “You may gather your reports and monitor them yourselves. I will have a copy of my own sent to your lightpad shortly. Dismissed.”
Abruptly, Grayson jumped to his feet and glided out of the room, the door opening and shutting on its own accord. Matilda didn’t even have to make the effort of using her imagination. She knew Grayson just needed to leave the room.
“Grass,” Amelia instructed crisply, stepping back.
Ingrid only needed to blink as the entire floor of the room sprouted with a vibrant layer of green. The ground beneath her shoes felt softer as dirt replaced the hard linoleum. She fought back the grin of pride at having conjured so easily.
Focus, she ordered herself, taking huge breaths to calm her racing heart. But she couldn’t help it; the rush of adrenaline, the tingle of her scalp and the flexing of her imagination all at once felt incredible. And it came so easily to her.
“Keep your pride in check,” Amelia called, catching the internal conflict in Ingrid’s brown eyes. “Never get cocky.”
Ingrid was of course slightly offended at the accusation but her tutor was right. When her exercises proved tedious and easily accomplished, she slackened. She couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her.
Block them, Ingrid commanded, clearing her mind from her buzzing thoughts. Focus.
“Flowers,” came Amelia’s next instruction.
Instantly, an image of Elora’s Haven came to mind. Ingrid concentrated harder on this one, trying not to duplicate the elaborate pattern of the garden but rather the assortment of flowers she’d witnessed. With as much detail as possible, Ingrid conjured an entire bed of flowers across the green grass, trying to recall all the colours of the spectrum.
“Now let them die.”
Ingrid’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in surprise. “K-Kill them?”
Amelia narrowed her eyes but kept the rest of her face impassive. “No emotion. You do as I say and you get the job done. That is how I run your training. Understood?”
Straightening her back, the tutee nodded curtly. “Yes, ma’am.” She pushed away all her reluctant thoughts, all which told her not to let the poor flowers die. Even in her current state of indifference, she knew it was a shame to let such pretty things wither.
This time, Ingrid closed her eyes. They fluttered shut but it was only for the briefest of seconds, longer than a blink. She envisioned the ugly colour of brown spreading across the room. Every single stem wilted as a wave of death passed over them, petals shrivelling and the grass turning a dry yellow.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Amelia’s clear and cold voice cut through her thoughts as Ingrid’s eyes opened. She was met with the drab and depressing sight of the garden in the room.
Ingrid released her mind from its emotional barriers, letting all her thoughts flood back. The strongest she felt was pity, pity at the fact that she’d been tasked to let her own conjurings die.
“Do you need help clearing the room?” Amelia asked.
Ingrid shook her head and with a single wave of her hand, the ground beneath her faded from brown and yellow then back to the pale linoleum floors. Not a single speck of dirt was left.
“I shouldn’t say this but you are doing a brilliant job.” Her tutor beamed with pride. “But don’t let it get to your head. Remember when you’re practising, never to let emotions get the better of you.”
The tutee nodded. It was a phrase that Amelia told her every lesson and now it had been drilled into her head. It was the first thing Ingrid thought of when she conjured.
“Now we’ve discussed this before but I have already explained how natural conjurings and manmade ones are different when we imagine them. Why is that?”
“Manmade objects are difficult to conjure because it is complicated,” Ingrid droned on, bored with the matter but tried not to let it show through. “Mortals overcomplicate their own inventions with the smallest of details. This relates back to how knowledge hinders imagination success.”
“Excellent but you haven’t told me the difference.”
“Imagining nature is much simpler,” Ingrid recited, the answer already in her head. “It merely existed since the beginning of this world when the Almighty created it all. Nature is not a manmade creation no matter how much we study it. The complications of nature are significantly less than that of manmade objects and man will never truly know all there is to nature. Because of this, conjuring natural objects are much easier than manmade ones which require more precision. Natures bends to imagination much easier than manmade objects.”
That, too, had been something Ingrid had drilled into her head, only on her own. Nothing had puzzled her more than her failure at conjuring a car, in comparison to the field of flowers she’d just conjured moments before. The theory was logical and clever. Ingrid had been genuinely surprised to find that Matilda was the one to create it.
Amelia beamed with pride but Ingrid was already used to her tutor’s occasional praises, how she was always pleased with her rapid progress. It did not affect her as much as it did a few months ago when they started her training. Perhaps Amelia’s disciplining technique was working better than Ingrid had expected.
“We have done many natural conjurings,” Amelia continued, clasping her hands. “So it is about time we start on manmade objects. I want you to go through the list I sent you in an email. They’re all in the other handbook I gave you which has instructions on the structure of the objects. I will give you a week of practise –”
“Amelia, don’t you think I could do it within two days? Just like the other times?”
The young woman’s lips fell to a frown. “Remember not to get too confident. Manmade objects are much harder than natural ones. The choices I gave you are all extremely difficult in their own way. Do not underestimate the task at hand.”
Ingrid was still sceptical at this but kept it to herself, nodding obediently. “Yes, ma’am.”
The door to the room suddenly opened, followed by a pair of slow, leisurely footfalls. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
In casual slacks with his shirt tucked in and a large jacket draped across his shoulders, stood Amelia’s twin brother.
“What are you doing here?” Amelia was the first to respond while Ingrid blinked at his surprise entrance. It was then followed by an air of irritation. He was too persistent.
Grayson waved his hand and flashed a light-hearted smile. “Not really your concern, sister. I am here for Miss Charles.”
“My tutee has no business with you,” Amelia snapped harshly. “Shouldn’t you be on some life-threatening mission?” Venom and sarcasm dripped heavily from her tone.
“I appreciate your concern,” he shot back mockingly. “But I am under Royal Decree to enlist an elite team of young Imaginists for the formation of His Majesty’s Royal Imagination Force.”
Amelia let rip a short, bitter bark of laughter. “I know you’re just spouting nonsense. No such thing exists.”
“Yet. Amelia, you are a part of it too. And one of the tutors.”
“You forget that I tutor Ingrid already,” she sneered. Amelia didn’t seem at all surprised that she was involved in this ridiculous team Grayson had come up with.
A haughty smile graced his lips. It was a look that annoyed Ingrid, added with his condescending air and tone.
“Madam Matilda has agreed that when it comes to emotions, I am the more suited tutor for dear Ingrid. Especially since she is also being recruited. Now that, I did not make up.” Smugness seeped through his every pore and it grew more aggravating by the second.
“Madam herself?” Amelia echoed in a disbelieving tone. “No. You are trying to poach my student again. How many times do I have to tell you that she is not your chance –”
“Amelia, I am not seeking redemption,” Grayson snapped, his tone rising and eyes flashing with impatience. “All will be explained in due time. Right now, I have assigned you to a different tutee in need of your excellent imagination. I will be taking over Ingrid from here.”
“Do I not get any say in the matter?” Ingrid cried out in horror, her fingers curling tightly against her palms. “I happen to like Amelia as my tutor.”
Amelia’s pale blue eyes shot her brother a look of triumph only to receive a shake of his head.
“Your methods to control her emotions are much too weak for an Imaginist whose emotions are out of control. Just look at her.”
Ingrid gaped at him in disbelief. “E-Excuse me? They most certainly aren–”
“Ingrid.” Amelia cut her off, her voice of a grim tone. She turned to the girl whose cheeks had flushed red in rage. “Focus.”
Ingrid was on the verge of strangling the man. Her vision even took on a tinge of red at the corners. Grayson’s lack of respect for anybody other than himself was appalling and his pompous attitude did not help one bit. She absolutely refused to be taught by such a person, even if he was the more ideal tutor for her. Training would probably end up with him boasting his advanced imagination rather than focusing on improving hers.
The very idea cause her nose to wrinkle in distaste.
But for the sake of her tutor, Ingrid suppressed every inflamed fibre of her being and stamped down the bubbling anger, the irritation for this man. Her mind cleared somewhat but she could still feel the edges of her imagination twitching uneasily, ready to respond at the slightest stir of emotion.
Sometimes Ingrid couldn’t quite understand how she’d grown to hate someone like Grayson. She knew men like him existed but there was something different about this one, something unnerving. Maybe her hostility was an instinctive mechanism to protect herself from him. Even Daphne had said that very few knew about Grayson or where he’d come from, how he came to be riddled with such an interesting past that happened to contain instances with Tainted.
A dark past, Ingrid guessed disapprovingly. And she definitely did not have any intention to get involved with someone like him.
“It is Madam Matilda and the King’s orders. I don’t suppose either of you would try to disobey such highly regarded figures, would you?”
The pair of women were practically glowering at Grayson who smirked in triumph.
“Then it is settled. Come along, Ingrid.”
“But –”
“Ingrid, please do not make this anymore unbearable than it already is,” Amelia sighed heavily, blowing through her lips. “It has been a pleasure tutoring somebody so gifted.”
“Ingrid,” came Grayson’s sharper tone.
She wanted to say more than just a mere word of gratitude; Ingrid wanted to thank Amelia for all the time she’d taken to make sure she understood and mastered her training up until now. Ingrid, however, was most grateful towards Amelia for being her very first imagination teacher in her entire life: that in itself was something she would be eternally grateful for. Her father always said a strong foundation led to more opportunities.
It was only natural Ingrid was reluctant to leave but finally found herself outside of the room, leaving her first tutor behind. Then she hurried after her new one, ready to give him a piece of her mind.
“What happened with you and your last female pupil, I do not know,” Ingrid started as she rushed after him down the corridor to the third floor of the building. “Whatever you are trying to redeem yourself from, you will not find through me.” Now that she had gotten that out of her mouth, she was the one that felt triumphant in that moment.
“Like I told my dear sister, I am not seeking redemption.”
“Then what is it you seek?” she demanded, desperate from the lack of answers.
Grayson opened a classroom door and ushered her inside hastily. Once the door clicked shut, the man seemed to relax as he ran a hand along the smooth wooden surface.
“What are you doing?” she questioned, already tired of his antics and evasiveness.
He pulled away from the door with an expression that Ingrid noticed ignored her question.
“Let us start with a test, to see how much my sister has taught you,” Grayson started, leaning against the door.
“You haven’t answered my question,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “Matilda may have made you my new tutor but I will not be doing anything until I get some answers.”
“I want you to duel me,” he ignored her, picking at the sleeve of his pressed shirt in boredom.
Ingrid stepped back in surprise. All the questions that had flooded her mind seemed to vanish in an instant. “E-Excuse me?”
“Miss Charles, I was so positive you were not hard of hearing.”
A rude retort sat at the tip of her tongue but for the sake of her lifelong etiquette lessons, she swallowed it back.
Instead she gave him a frown rather than an ugly scowl. She was determined to be ladylike while fighting him. “Just Ingrid, please.”
“As you wish. Now –”
“Duels are for men,” she interjected. At least Amelia had told her the basic rules of duelling, otherwise she would have had to face Grayson’s smug explanation of it. “Let alone between a man and a woman.”
“In war, the enemy will not care if you are either.” His face suddenly grew sober, dark eyes reminiscing a dark time. “Duelling is the closest simulation to a fight in a war. It tests your agility, strength, instincts and the sharpness of your imagination.”
“War?” Ingrid echoed, suddenly interested in more of what he had to say. Her brown eyes grew large in excitement and she couldn’t help the smile creeping across her face. “I have the privilege of fighting for our country?”
With a single affirming nod, Ingrid was overwhelmed with joy. She was absolutely ecstatic; this was what she was anticipating all this time. This was what she wanted her imagination to be of use for and finally, her chance had come!
“Which garrison would I be stationed at?” she asked eagerly. “How much fighting will I do? What exactly is my position?”
Grayson was upon her in a flash, peering down with narrowed blue eyes. She inhaled sharply at the proximity, completely ignoring her instinct to step back.
“War is not a game nor is it something to be excited about,” he growled, a menacing expression contorting his face. “It is more violent and bloodier than you could ever imagine. It holds unspoken horrors that you have never seen.” His words sent a shiver down her spine. Grayson was leaning so close, she could feel strands of his hair brushing her forehead.
“When you duel with me, your goal is to survive. When you are in war, it is the exact same goal because your survival contributes to the safety of your country. Do you understand me, Ingrid?”
Swallowing a lump in her throat, she nodded, trying to lean away from him.
“Do you understand?” he repeated, his tone considerably softer and the hostility in his eyes fading.
Ingrid blinked in surprise at the sudden change. She searched his hazel eyes that never seemed to end. She hadn’t realised how odd the shade of brown they were, not to mention the flecks of green. Was that gold there too?
A deep vibration rumbled in his chest. Grayson drew away and turned his back, shoulders shaking.
Finally coming to her senses, Ingrid slapped her hands down on her cheeks and felt them burning. It was most certainly not out of anger but as Grayson continued to laugh in silence, her cheeks turned redder at just that.
“Let us duel then,” she snapped, trying to calm her racing heart. Her pride had certainly been wounded, letting the man affect her in such a way.
She narrowed her eyes as he spun around slowly, a playful grin on his face.
No. She wouldn’t let him affect her like this again. Handsome he may be, but he was too used to enjoying the effect he had on women.
Ingrid was determined not to give him that satisfaction again.
“Now because this is a duel, we bow to our opponent. In your case, I suppose you curtsey.”
“Have women ever duelled before? Is it proper for them to?” she questioned, reluctantly bobbing down as she lifted her skirts slightly.
“Hardly.” Grayson snorted. “But it should be no different to a man duelling. Next we shake hands. Seeing as we are man and woman, I think it is rather in order for me to greet you properly.”
She pursed her lips at the childish grin playing on his. “Just shake hands, Grayson.” She only needed to take a step forward until he met her outstretched hand.
Before she could pull away, he leaned down and pressed his lips softly against her knuckles. A shiver skittered down her spine.
Luckily she responded faster this time, tearing her hand from his lips and rubbed her knuckles furiously. “This is inappropriate, Mr. Kent. If you wish to be my tutor and earn my respect, please refrain from inappropriate actions and keep your hands to yourself.”
He remained bowed in that position but his arm had dropped back to his side. Grayson lifted his upper half, completely unfazed, much to her dismay. “As you wish.”
As he took several steps back within the spacious room, Ingrid continued to chastise him. “We won’t ever be in a war with proper duelling etiquette. What makes you think –”
A fierce gust of wind burst across her face, cutting her off in mid-speech. She gasped in surprise only to have her breath stolen. Her instincts snapped into action and her arm forced its way up to shield her eyes. Ingrid only just managed to squint, getting the slightest glimpse of Grayson who had his hand outstretched towards her.
Gritting her teeth, Ingrid snapped her eyes shut and conjured the first thing that came to mind: a shield. It wasn’t very impressive but it had done the trick, invisibly materialising before her, large and thick. It blocked the wind rushing at her, splitting the air to either side of her and brushed the hem of her dress instead.
Grayson lowered his hand but the moment he did, his eyes changed colour. Even from across the room, Ingrid could see they had darkened significantly, almost to the point of black. And she didn’t have time to react.
A long snake of orange shot out from beneath his shoes, zooming across the floor until it slammed into her shield. She gasped in surprise at the bone-jarring impact, grateful that she hadn’t let her guard down. Suddenly, it twisted and writhed until it snaked around the barrier, nipping at her ankles.
She squeaked as the fire snake grew in size, rising until it was at eye level and hissing its forked tongue of flames at her. Ingrid stood frozen in horror as several more snakes joined it, merging into one large cobra that threatened to swallow her whole into an inferno.
Luckily enough, her imagination reacted faster than her body. In a blink, a wave of water dumped itself across the snake’s elongated body, erupting in a burst of sizzles, hisses and steam. Ingrid wasn’t sure where the water had come from, only feeling the adrenaline zinging through her veins. Her imagination tingled, a sense of pride and euphoria washing over her at her successful attempt at defending herself.
The steam cleared with a gust of wind but when she caught sight of Grayson again, Ingrid found an unusual feeling wrapping around her legs. Literally.
She stared down in horror at the thick green vines that had appeared from nowhere, sprouting from the ground. It bound her legs together then spiralled to her arms, tightening and restricting all movement. Gasping for air, Ingrid’s head tilted back and an image flashed across her mind.
A brilliant light of orange caught her eyes. When she glanced back down, she found her limbs being released from their bindings, the vines falling to the ground in a pile of ashes while the flames that set them on fire vanished to embers, then nothing.
Ingrid brushed the residue off her clothes with trembling hands. How had she conjured fire so easily and yet remained unscathed at the same time? Hadn’t she imagined it all across her body, to burn the vines off? Yet she hadn’t even considered the consequences. Ingrid paled a little at the possibility that she could have roasted herself alive by accident.
Lifting her head, Ingrid looked to her tutor in confusion but he was already walking towards her, eyes dark and an impassive look on his face.
She scrambled back in horror but as she did so, Ingrid felt her shoes lose their footing, slipping against a wet substance beneath her shoes. She fell backwards.
An arm snaked around her waist, catching her before she fell. It wrapped tighter and her head jerked back at the impact while the blood started rushing to her head.
Grayson leaned down and supported her head while Ingrid’s hands scrabbled onto his jacket for dear life, not wanting to fall and bang her head.
“War will be faster, more dangerous and unexpected,” he breathed, his hair falling and tickling her brow. “I won this duel.”
She shuddered, fingers clenching his jacket tighter.
“And nature will be the easiest and most helpful conjuring on the battlefield,” he continued, slowly pulling her upright until Ingrid’s head lolled forward and her gaze inevitably met his. “The elements are the easiest to conjure. Never forget that.” He paused.
“But why?” she asked breathlessly, searching his fathomless eyes for an answer. Ingrid quickly realised they had returned to their normal, deep rich hazel. “Why did it come so fast to me? I didn’t even need to think.”
“Did Amelia not teach you the difference between manmade and natural conjurings?” Grayson whispered.
A smile tweaked his lips and he pulled her fully upright until she could stand on her own two feet. He unwound his arms from around her waist and reached for his jacket, starting to pry her fingers off.
Realising her mistake, Ingrid released him then turned on her heel to face the wall, her face ablaze with her back to him. She didn’t slip this time.
“Practise conjuring the elements until tomorrow’s lesson,” Grayson called over his shoulder. “With your talent, I expect a lot from you. I look forward to our next encounter.” He said it as if they would meet many more times before their lesson tomorrow.
Twisting back around, she managed to narrow her eyes at him just as he reached the door. “I most certainly will not look forward to it,” she muttered under her breath.
He paused, hand on the door. Her heart stuttered. He’d heard her.
“Please, enough with the inappropriate actions,” she snapped, trying to control her trembling voice which was affected by her pounding heart. Why was it beating so hard? “I want to focus on my imagination.” Not on you, she thought in annoyance. What was he trying to do to her? Was this entire act deliberate on his part?
“It is not inappropriate if you do not mind, Ingrid.”
“I do mind!” she shouted in rage but he was already gone, the door swinging shut in his absence. She knew he’d heard her.
“Do I?” she whispered, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.
So far, Ingrid was not sure of many things: why the King suddenly asked to recruit Imaginists, including women; how and why her great aunt had agreed to this arrangement; and what Grayson’s true intentions were towards her. But amidst her confusion, Ingrid did know something for sure.
She couldn’t look at Grayson the same way again.