The House of Cards

All Magic

All Magic

For what feels like the millionth time, I fail to bring even the faintest flicker of my power to life, resulting in being struck, yet again, by a flying plastic whiffle ball.

"You aren't trying," Daniel admonishes, exasperation beginning to creep into his voice.

I give an ugly snort. "You think I like being hit by these stupid things?" To prove my point, I scoop one up off the ground and hurl it at him. I miss. "I am not trying to get hit by them!"

We have been at this for days. It had begun the very night I asked for help. He had dragged me down through the house to an empty basketball court—this house had a basketball court!—and had brought a bucket filled to the brim with whiffle balls.

He had plucked one off the top of the stack, holding it perched on his fingertips out in front of him.

"Break this," he had instructed.

I had failed. Over and over again.

The simple exercise of him ordering me to break it had quickly devolved to him deciding I needed a little extra stimulus; thus, he had determined that throwing the balls at me was the perfect way to get that stimulus.

I disagree.

I pick up another whiffle ball. This one smacks him on the top of his head with a dull thwack, but he does not react, his face growing slightly red.

"You want to know how I know you aren't trying?" Daniel growls, reaching into what seems like a never ending bucket of balls, pulling out another. "Because you aren't breaking them!"

My stomach grows red hot, cramping suddenly as heat fills my face. My jaw clenches tight, tight, tight—

The ball in his hand splinters into a million plastic pieces.

The bucket at his feet follows moments later.

And just behind the priceless shock on his face, I see a flicker of pride.

"Well," he says, voice suddenly calm. "I stand corrected."

My face flushes deeper, this time with embarrassment instead of rage. "I am sorry," I stammer. "I did not mean to do that! I just got—"

"Really mad?" he arches an eyebrow at me. "That anger is what I am teaching you to control."

A high pitched laughter rings from the door of the gymnasium, echoing off of the high ceilings.

"Do you really think this is the best way to be teaching her to control her magic, King of Swords?" Gwin says, stepping out of the shadows. She kicks at the bits of plastic littered across the warm hardwood court, arms folded across her chest. "I'm not even quite sure how you got saddled with the job. Your magics aren't anything alike."

I furrow my eyebrows. "What?"

Gwin scoffs. "Fates, you're so uninformed. It's annoying." She sits down on the ground with a heavy thunk, brushing away the pieces of whiffle ball from the ground in front of her. Digging in her pocket, she pulls out a deck of cards, made out of a silvery metal, identical to the deck Aziza had carried. She spreads them out in front of her, face side up.

Gwin shoots Daniel a glare. "No offense, but you were teaching her all wrong. You need to start with the basics."

Daniel arches an eyebrow. "And I am to assume you are going to do this?"

Gwin gives a snort and an eye roll. "Of course." She turns her gaze to me. "Sit down," she orders. I glance at Daniel, who shrugs.

I fall to the ground across from Gwin, plastic crackling under my weight. The younger girl across from me sorts through the deck, organizing the cards into suits, metal edges clinking like spare change.