Freya POV

"Again," Freya said, watching Leona's form with critical eyes.

The girl—and she was a girl, no matter how much she protested about being a "proper young lady"—fired off another [Mana Bolt].

It was perfect form, honestly, and nearly perfect execution. She was a cute little academy-trained puppet going through the motions like she was reading from a textbook.

Boring as hell.

"Stop," Freya said.

Leona immediately lowered her hands, looking confused.

"What? What did I do wrong?" Leona asked, and there was that defensiveness again.

Kid really didn't like being corrected. Wonder where she got that from. Definitely not from Theodore, who took criticism like a sponge took water—absorbing everything, processing it, making it part of himself. One of the things Freya liked about him, actually. Most nobles got all pissy when you told them they sucked at something. Theodore just nodded and asked how to get better.

"You're too rigid," Freya said, walking around Leona in a slow circle. Made the girl nervous, being circled like that. "Too... what's the word... bookish. Yeah, that's it. You're executing everything like you're afraid the academy instructor is gonna pop out and dock points for improper wrist positioning."

"That's how you're supposed to cast!" Leona protested, and oh, there was that indignation. Little bit of fire under all that proper lady nonsense.

"Says who?"

"Says... everyone! The academy, the texts, the established principles of—"

"Yeah, yeah, the established principles of shut up and listen." Freya stopped in front of her, crossing her arms. The girl's eyes widened at the casual rudeness. Probably not used to being talked to like that. Well, tough.

"You gotta let go. Be free for once. Then you can reincorporate all those habits they hammered into your skull."

Leona blinked. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does. Right now, you do all that stuff instinctually 'cause you've done it a million times. But you don't know why you're doing it. Not really. You're just following the recipe without understanding what makes the cake rise."

"Magic isn't baking."

"Everything's baking if you think about it hard enough." Freya grinned at Leona's bewildered expression. "Look, once you let go and experience the chaos—the freedom that comes with just throwing magic around without worrying about proper form—you'll understand what rules to keep, what to adjust, what to throw out entirely."

"That sounds incredibly dangerous."

"Yep."

"And irresponsible."

"Definitely."

"And likely to result in magical backlash that could permanently damage my mana channels."

Freya shrugged. "Maybe. But you know what's worse than damaged mana channels? Being dead 'cause you were too busy worrying about proper form to adapt to an actual fight."

That shut the girl up.

"Try again," Freya said. "But this time, forget everything the academy taught you. Just... feel it. Let the magic do what it wants to do."

Leona looked like Freya had just asked her to strip naked and run through the estate grounds. Which, honestly, might've been less shocking to her proper sensibilities.

But she tried.

The [Mana Bolt] that formed was... different. Wilder. It was less controlled but somehow more alive. It sparked and crackled, shifting between blue and purple like it couldn't decide what it wanted to be.

"Better," Freya said, and she meant it.

Leona practiced and she offered occasional corrections. The girl was actually pretty talented when she wasn't strangling herself with rules.

Theodore would probably be proud. Or worried. Hard to tell with him sometimes. He had this way of keeping his face all neutral while his brain was doing backflips. Freya had gotten pretty good at reading the tiny tells. The way his left eyebrow would twitch when he was annoyed, how he'd tap his index finger exactly three times when he was thinking hard about something, the slight tilt of his head when he was actually interested versus just being polite.

God, it'd been almost a month since that woman took him.

Nearly a month. Four weeks of not knowing if he was okay, if he was hurt, if he was even alive. Though he probably was. That Seraphina woman she'd wanted him for something. You didn't take an apprentice just to kill them. Probably.

When she'd taken him, Freya had been powerless. Completely, utterly powerless. The memory still made her blood boil, made her hands clench into fists. She'd fought the woman—if you could even call it a fight. More like Freya had thrown herself at an immovable object while the object looked mildly amused.

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Her pride still hurt from that "fight." She'd lost. So badly. So quickly. It hadn't even been a contest. The woman had stopped time—stopped fucking time!—and Freya had been frozen there like an idiot while Theodore got folded up into some dimensional pocket or whatever the hell that was.

Since then, she'd been training harder than ever. She'd gone back to that shop too. Every few days at first, then every day, then multiple times a day until she'd realized she was being pathetic and scaled it back.

Didn't matter anyway. Door was always locked. No amount of knocking, yelling, or attempting to break it down did anything. She'd even tried burning it. The door didn't even get warm. Whatever magic was on that place, it was way beyond anything Freya could break through.

She was powerless. And that made her so fucking mad she could scream.

Theodore was... Theodore was good. He was sweet in this awkward way. He was so awkward sometimes it was painful. He tried so hard to be stoic. To be in control. Always maintaining that composed image like armor against the world. Freya wondered sometimes what he was compensating for. What lack of control in his life made him cling so hard to the things he could manage? His family was a mess, she'd figured that much out. That little sister of his was a bundle of issues, his brothers were either indifferent or problematic, and his father... well, fathers were complicated. Freya would know.

Still, it was cute how hard he tried. And she hadn't been able to help him when he'd been abducted. Taken. Whatever you wanted to call it. She'd just stood there, frozen in time, watching him disappear into some fold in reality while that woman looked bored by the whole thing.

Some friend she was.

"Hey, um..."

Leona's voice cut through her brooding. Freya blinked, refocusing on the girl. She'd stopped practicing and was doing that thing where she fidgeted with her fingers. Nervous tell. Theodore did something similar, except he'd tap his fingers.

"Yeah?" Freya prompted when Leona just stood there, looking everywhere except at Freya.

The girl opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. Looked at the ground, the wall, the ceiling. Fidgeted some more. Then, in a rush like she was afraid she'd lose her nerve: "Where is Theodore? Why did he leave? Is it... is it because of me?"

Freya blinked. Then blinked again.

Well, that was unexpected.

She knew their relationship was complicated. Theodore had apparently been a complete ass to her growing up—Freya had gotten the general picture even if Theodore didn't talk about it much. Just occasional comments about "being better" and "making amends" and other stuff that made it clear he'd been pretty awful before his whole exile thing.

But here was this girl, this little sister who supposedly hated him, asking if she was the reason he'd left. Looking all worried and guilty and... concerned? Was she actually concerned about him?

Why?

It didn't make sense.

That wasn't quite it. Leona was more worried about being the cause. Like she'd driven him away somehow. Which was both sad and kind of adorable in a messed-up way. Kid had some serious insecurity issues. Again, wonder where those came from.

Freya smiled and reached out to ruffle Leona's perfectly arranged hair. "He just left to train. He'll be back."

"Do not ruffle my hair!" Leona squawked, batting at Freya's hand. "I am a proper noble lady! I am not a child!"

Freya grinned wider. "Sure you're not."

"I'm not! I'm fourteen! That's practically an adult!"

"Uh-huh."

"It is! And I'll have you know that my hair takes considerable effort to—stop laughing!"

"I'm not laughing."

"You're smiling."

"Different thing entirely."

Leona huffed, trying to fix her hair with quick, angry movements. "You're impossible. No wonder Theodore finds you so... so..."

"So what?" Freya asked, genuinely curious what word the girl would pick.

Leona went red. "Never mind. I have to go. I have... lessons. Other lessons. Not with you."

She practically fled the training room, dignity attempting to keep up with her rapid exit. Kid moved pretty fast when she was embarrassed.

Freya kept grinning until the door closed. Then the smile dropped off her face like it had never been there.

Time to go.

She made her way through the estate, taking the back routes she'd memorized over the past few weeks. Servants nodded to her, they'd gotten used to her presence. The old man's study was in the east wing. Big ornate door that probably cost more than most people's houses. Freya knocked once.

"Enter."

August Lockheart sat behind his massive desk, papers spread out in front of him that he wasn't really reading. He smiled when he saw her. It was not a nice smile. Not grandfather smile, either.

It was a smile she knew well. He was about to enjoy what was about to happen.

"Freya. Here for your lesson?"

"Yeah."

"Eager today, aren't we?" He stood. "Tell me, how many times have you failed to break into that tea shop this week?"

It wasn't a tea shop.

But she'd expected him to get that part wrong, after all, this was a little dig designed to piss her off. He always started their sessions like this. Finding whatever button would make her angry and jabbing it repeatedly.

It worked every time.

"Three."

"Only three? You're slipping. Last week it was seven."

"Last week I had more time."

"Ah yes, because training my granddaughter takes so much effort." He moved around the desk, hands clasped behind his back. "She's soft, isn't she? All that academy training, no real experience. Like a sword that's never drawn blood."

"She's trying."

"Trying. Like one of your successful visits to Sera's shop?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

And there it was. The real start of their training. Not in some practice room with padded floors and safety wards. Right here, right now, in his study full of priceless artifacts and irreplaceable documents. Yes, because he was that confident she wouldn't be able to break anything under his watchful eyes.

Freya moved first. She always did. Fire sparked around her as she lunged forward, fist already swinging toward his smug face. She knew this was what he wanted, so it was what she'd give. It was a little game they'd been playing.

He sidestepped, casual as breathing, and her momentum carried her past him into a bookshelf, but her attack didn't land. There was an invisible wall blocking everything barely a few centimeters from the books.

"Predictable," he said. "Did you learn nothing from your encounter with Seraphina?"

"I learned that time magic is bullshit."

"Language."

She attacked again and he walked through it like it was rain.

"Better. Still thinking like a warrior, though. Seraphina isn't a warrior. She's something else entirely. If you want to get Theodore back, you need to stop thinking in terms of strength and speed."

"Then what should I think in terms of?"

He smiled. "Dimensions, my dear. You need to think in dimensions."

Then the room folded, and Freya's training really began.

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