“Not surprised to see you stuffing your face,” a snide female voice rang out behind me. A groan slipped from my lips. Pricilla Shoolan. One of my mother’s goons. She was part of the Elite Pride, the top tier of the soldier pecking order.
Stopping, I slowly turned to face her. “What was that, Pricilla?”
She scoffed. “You are an embarrassment to your entire family.”
Being much less than flattering, the disguise I wore did nothing to elevate my social standing. My mother chose my look. Let’s just say I wasn’t known as the pretty royal. That honor fell to my brother, the little shit. The amulet also had the added magical ability of making me unremarkable. Forgettable.
Trying not to let Priscilla’s words get to me, I counted slowly to three before I drawled, “Get up on the wrong side of the bed, did we?”
Priscilla’s nostrils flared. She squared shoulders and balled her hands into fists as she stalked toward me. Using her fingertips, she pushed me against the wall—not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to let me know she meant business.
She leaned in close. “You don’t deserve what you’ve been given.”
Glancing around, I caught the wide eyes of passersby. One day, I’d enjoy taking the spiteful woman down, but this wasn’t the day for revealing what I could do.
Shoulder lifting in a shrug, I met her gaze. “Whatever you say, Priscilla.”
“You’re pathetic. Not even worth my time.” She stepped back, shoving me one more time before turning away. “Also, you stink.”
Sighing, I watched her saunter off before sniffing my shirt.
Well, she isn’t wrong on that account.
As a team leader in the Elite Pride, Priscilla got away with pretty much whatever she wanted. Worse, she enjoyed dragging me in front of Mother for rounds of public humiliation.
Thank the caeli she didn’t choose to do that today.
Back in my room, I switched on the TV to mage news while I showered and changed. A story involving norms lit up the screen. They were so oblivious to us. It always fascinated me that they lived and worked alongside us, but were never able to see us for what we were.
“Earlier today, a team of norm firefighters put their lives on the line to subdue a fire caused by two mages dueling in the street.”
“Huh, it’s been a while since we had one of those,” I said, pausing to watch the footage.
The video shifted to an interview with an older woman. The caption below her picture read ‘Martha James, Norm’.
“It was just awful! I’ve never seen a fire behave in such a way!”
She went on to describe an elaborate series of events that began with a car hitting a power pole—which upended, striking a tree and sparking the inferno. In her words, the flames then ‘flew’ a hundred feet, licking several cars, the partial exterior of a brick building, and a billboard for cat medicine. The latter a personal offense to Martha, a self-identified cat lady. Of course, she never saw the fire’s real cause or the reasons it didn’t seem to behave like natural flames.
The mage news, only viewable to mages, then proceeded to interview the offenders. Apparently, the first mage insulted the second mage’s sister, which led to the massive street duel. Since no mage property was damaged, the bastards pretty much got away with it, paying no reparations whatsoever.
Mother didn’t care about norms, and the laws were a reflection of Mother.
The fire happened to be near one of my favorite destinations—the local mage library. Speaking of which, it was probably time to take the monstrosity of a book sitting on my nightstand back to Maggie.
Growing up, my parents sent in tutors to make sure I wasn’t a total idiot. I learned the basics like history, languages, math, and science. However, something they were absolutely not allowed to discuss was magic. I was to be kept in the dark when it came to magic. If I didn’t know magic, I couldn’t fight back.
So, when I overheard someone speaking about a nearby place known as the mage library—filled to the brim with magical knowledge—of course, it became one of my favorite hideaways. Even though she didn’t know who I really was, I grew quite close to the head librarian, Maggie. She helped me do my research, and then I’d go home and practice in secret.
Running my fingers over the binding of the obnoxiously massive tome, I flipped it open to the section on Ruling Magic—a topic of great interest to me, since I had inherited this magic from my mother.
The terms ‘Ruling Magic’ or ‘Ruling Powers’ were often used to describe the heightened magical skills genetically handed down through the ruling family from heir to heir.
Some manifested their Ruling Magic young, while others had to reach puberty or even adulthood. For my mother, much to her great embarrassment, her powers refused to manifest until she produced an heir.
Unfortunately for me and the rest of the world, her Ruling Magic included the ability to control others. She could compel anyone to do anything she wanted with a simple command. People called it the ‘power of suggestion,’ and it was an ability that she often practiced on me—until she couldn’t.
My Ruling Powers began to manifest early and included the ability to resist her control, among other things. She was so furious when she realized what I could do that she probably would have killed me—if she wasn’t worried that killing me might remove her own powers.
My existence brought them forth, would my death banish them? Nobody knew for sure, so Mother was unwilling to take the chance—for now. That hadn’t stopped her from having me beaten and thrown into isolation for a week after my powers manifested.
I was five years old.
Chapter Three
The next day, I found myself hitting the ‘donate’ button on a crowdsourcing campaign for a little girl with cancer, sending a large sum anonymously to the family. Typically, I spent a fair amount of time researching these things, in an attempt to make sure it wasn’t some scam from a prince in Nigeria. But sometimes, you just have to go with your gut.
Signing it with a ‘Get better, princess’, I logged off and hopped off my bed.
While it’s true that my mother prevented me from owning many possessions of value, I did have certain access to funds. Being the ‘ultra’ in ultrarich, Mother held more wealth than she could ever reasonably spend.
So, it didn’t even come up as a blip on her radar when I funneled certain amounts to places where I thought it could do some good—though she’d choke if she knew I was giving away her money, mostly to norms.
The internet made it easy to find people or places in need. Things like a firework show for a small town in the midwest or a scholarship for inner-city kids a few states away. Sometimes, I’d attend local charity events, like silent auctions—if I could find ways to shake my watchers and escape the towers.
My eyes darted to my watch before a grin lit my face.
Lunchtime.
My footsteps echoed off the brick walls as I ambled down a narrow alleyway, now a few blocks away from the towers. Stepping out from between two buildings, a ray of sunlight caught my face, warming my body and my spirits.
“Hey, Barb!” I called.
“Hi, Iz!”