Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(115)

“This man has a protective shield around his mind. I can break through it by brute force, but if the Office would allow me to use chalk, I can compel him to answer with minimal damage.”

“No chalk,” the forty-two-year-old arbiter said.

I turned toward the man. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop stalling,” the man said.

I concentrated and stabbed with my magic, turning it into a dagger. The shell cracked and split. Thank you, Grandmother Victoria.

My magic snapped out and gripped the man’s mind into its fist.

“Tell me your name.”

My will crushed his.

“Benjamin Cars.”

“The shell on your mind isn’t yours. Who put it in place?”

“Orlando Gonzales.”

A commotion broke out behind me, but I couldn’t turn around.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t want you to become a House.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t tell me.”

I turned around. Everyone was looking at one of the arbiters, the one who told me his age.

I released the other man and clamped the arbiter with my will. Behind me Benjamin collapsed, weeping.

The shell around Orlando’s mind was thicker and stronger. I stabbed at it. It held. I stabbed again and again.

He got off his chair and staggered back.

Another stab. He fought me, his will bucking, but if I didn’t do this now, there would be some doubt about the legitimacy of my trial. I couldn’t afford doubt. Our family’s survival depended on it.

Stab. The shell cracked. I poured my magic through the gap and wrenched it open.

I thought about Sturm and Vincent and dead Kurt. Anger surged through me. The arbiter’s will snapped under my pressure.

“Why did you protect Benjamin’s mind?”

His whole body shook from the strain. I squeezed. The world wavered. So much magic spent so quickly.

They wouldn’t keep me from protecting my family. I didn’t care how much they sneered, how many obstacles they put in my way, I would become a House today.

“Answer me.”

The words came out one by one. “I . . . did it . . . because . . . Colleen Shaffer asked me.”

Colleen Shaffer was Garen’s mother.

“Why did Colleen ask you to interfere in my trials?”

“Because . . . she wants . . . you to accept her son. If you fail the trials, you . . . will be . . . vulnerable.”

I released him. Another second, and I would’ve blacked out.

Orlando collapsed on the floor in a heap. Tears rolled from his eyes.

“Interfering with the trials is a mortal offense,” the Keeper said.

Michael stepped forward as if materializing from thin air. He fastened his hand on Orlando, pulled him to his feet, and led him away.

“Are the arbiters satisfied?” the Keeper asked.

A chorus of yesses answered.

“Let it be known that Nevada Frida Baylor was tested and found to be an Elenchus. Congratulations, Ms. Baylor. You may sit down.”

Someone had replaced the muscles in my legs with wet cotton. Somehow, I made it to the chairs and sat down.

“Kick ass,” Arabella whispered in my ear from the right.

“You did it,” Catalina said from the left.

“The Office calls Bernard Adam Baylor.”

Bernard sorted a complex pattern out in record time. They registered him as upper-level Significant.

Catalina was next. She walked out to the line on wobbly legs.

Alessandro Sagredo was just as devastating as his Instagram photo.

“Catalina Baylor,” the Keeper announced. “To be certified as Prime, you must use your powers to make Alessandro step over the white line. If you are unable to compel him to do so, we have a mage of lesser ability ready for you.”

My sister swallowed. She was visibly shaking.

“Are you ready?”

“Do your worst,” Alessandro told her with a grin.

Catalina covered her face with her hands.

You can do it.

“Are you ready?” the Keeper repeated.

“Yes.” She lowered her hands and looked at him. “Do you live in Italy?”

“Yes.”

“There are nice beaches in Italy. One time I went to the beach with my family in Florida. The beaches there are not like they are here. The water is crystal clear, and the sand is white, and you can float for hours and hours, looking at little fishes. They dart around in the water and sometimes you can reach out and almost touch one.”

Sweat broke out on Alessandro’s forehead.

“Do you like the beach?”

“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I like swimming. One day I would like to go out on a boat. I was going to try the Jet Skis, but a storm came. We have terrible storms in Florida, and here in Texas, too. Do you have storms in Italy?”

“Yes.”

“Come and tell me about it?”

Alessandro took a step over the line and headed for my sister.

Four people tackled him. He threw two of them off and punched the third one in the face.

“I’m so sorry,” Catalina said.

“It’s fine.” Alessandro stopped struggling. “Let go of me. I said, it’s fine.”