He ignored her, sticking his scroll into his pocket and striding toward one of the side doors.
Fear zipped through my heart, like an arrow straight into my chest. I scrambled up the aisle, squeezing past Kaya and Mother’s other Council friends, whose heads all turned when they noticed me. “Wait! Please! The meeting can’t be done yet!”
“Eva!” Mother called after me, her voice rising in surprise.
The crowd stared as I shouted, “Please, Grand Master Grottel!”
He turned, the force of his glare as mighty as a storm. “What?”
I skidded to a stop. “The last item!”
“I have missed nothing,” he spat coldly. Flecks of saliva splattered at my feet. “Are you trying to insinuate that I am not doing my duties as the leader of the Council?”
“No, no, you just forgot—I mean, um, I mean…” I blushed madly and swept into a bow. “Sir, my apologies, but I was summoned to this meeting.”
Grottel stared down from the raised stage. “Who are you?”
His words stunned me more than any spell. I’d been to Council meetings before. He’d just seen me outside with Mother. I couldn’t be so below his notice. With so few witches and wizards in the realm, he should’ve at least had an inkling of who I was.…
“E-Eva Evergreen, Apprentice to Nelalithimus Evergreen.” I fought to keep my voice from trembling. “I received a summons. I’m due to receive my ticket for my Novice Witch quest.”
“That’s right, I remember you now. Norya set up that request, didn’t she?” he said. “Go to the infirmary.”
With a wave of his hand, two burly, oafish-looking guards stepped forward. I shrunk back.
“What? Why do I need to go to the infirmary?” That didn’t make any sense. I’d only need to do that if—
“You’ve hardly done anything particularly, well, magical, as an Apprentice, have you, hmm?” He stared down his sharp nose. Some of the other witches and wizards nodded. By the door, Conroy crossed his arms, eyes unreadable. My blood froze in my veins.
I shook my head, slowly backing up.
No.
No, no, no.
My very worst fear was coming true.
“It won’t hurt that much. The extraction spell is quite simple, really.” He snorted. “Wish it was so simple to give magic to others.”
“They’re—you’re—going to take away my magic?” I whispered.
If the Council deemed an Apprentice magically unfit—a potential rogue witch or wizard—their powers got taken away. Pulled out of their blood, erased from their future…
The pain of that extraction spell would be nothing compared to the pain of losing my magic forever. “There must be some sort of mistake. I’ve created tons of spells, I swear. I’ve done plenty of good.”
“Some magic is not enough magic,” he snapped.
“There was that time I helped my father with an oven that combusted—I enchanted a box to hold in the heat so he could keep baking. I’m handy with repairing things.”
“Once,” he sniffed. “Is this what we should let our magic be reduced to? The realm needs us to do real spells, not cook up party snacks.”
I squeezed my arms around my book, as if it could shield me from Grottel. “But I—”
“Aren’t you the witch who summoned a field of cabbage instead of flowers when you attempted creation enchantments?”
“The farmer didn’t need to worry about harvesting anymore! Plus, it’s because I have an affinity for repairs rather than creation magic—I mean, at least I think I do.”
He shook his head in disgust. “I have received reports from some of the citizens you have ‘helped.’ The only reason you have a so-called affinity for repair magic is because you keep breaking things, is it not?”
“Well, I—”
He spoke over me, magnifying his voice throughout the hall. “And when you tried weather magic, you brought down a thunderstorm instead of sending off rain clouds?”
In one of the rows behind me, Conroy snickered. My blood boiled.
“But I fixed it!” I protested.
“And for all of these cases, you took a nap before you ‘repaired’ the problems you created?”
“I didn’t want to, I just…”
I had run out of magic before I could fix the thunderstorm, and Mother, who usually helped sweep up my mistakes, was off on the queen’s business. So when I’d fallen asleep, drained of magic, a crack of thunder had woken me up. It’d been the talk of the town, but I hadn’t realized word had gotten to Grottel, too.
I glared at Conroy, who sneered as he twirled his ticket in his hand.
But then I looked around the hall. Nearly a quarter of the witches and wizards were shaking their heads more and more vigorously, rumbling with disapproval.
I felt like a piece of dust, about to get charmed into oblivion. I’d dreamed of being a witch like my mother all my life. I needed to be Eva Evergreen, Novice-Witch-in-Training.
If the Council took my powers, I’d be just Eva, a magicless girl.
I tried to speak. “Sir, Grand Master…”
The rest of the Council overpowered my words, muttering as loud as the Torido Rivers rumbling on by.
But Mother’s voice soared above the rest. “I believe Eva deserves a chance to become a Novice Witch.”
She stepped to my side, the worry on her face mirroring mine. “There’s a shortage of us, Hayato. We need all the magic we can get, especially with the Culling coming.”
Grand Master Grottel shook his head. “She’s a liability. As if a girl with a pinch of magic could shield the realm against the Culling. Go to the infirmary, girl.”
His henchmen reached for my arms, one of them stepping between Mother and me.
“Wait, wait!” My throat tightened as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.
One of Grottel’s cronies reached out to pluck away my witch’s hat, and I scrambled backward, my chest pounding as I bumped into a chair.
My precious book, The Guide for Questing Witches and Wizards, tumbled from my arms and fell open to chapter five, with the familiar drawing of a girl heading off on her Novice quest, a broom resting on her shoulder and her hat set at a jaunty slant.
This was my favorite chapter. I had always imagined myself to be just like her. I swallowed the lump in my throat and held back my tears.
“Chapter five…” I murmured, kneeling to gather the magical tome in my hands. “Chapter five.”
“Move,” growled one of Grottel’s henchmen, towering above me.
“Chapter five. The rules for our quests.”
“Huh?”
“Grand Master Grottel,” I said slowly. Wild hope bloomed in my chest, as if I’d cast a spell on myself. I reached out and picked up my dear, favorite book and brushed it off. “I may have peculiar magic. I may only have a little bit compared to Mother or you or any of the witches or wizards here, but I still have magic.”
“Not enough.”
Slowly, I stood up. “Even a pinch of magic is enough.”
I turned the book around and pointed at the top of the page. My blood felt like it was dancing from a spell, zipping from my heart straight down to my fingertips. “Chapter five, section twenty-three.”