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simply by standing here.
    I try to answer, but my voice gets stuck somewhere at the back of my throat, and all I can think is that I’ll never trust Ryn again when he tells me someone isn’t intimidating.
    “This is Calla Larkenwood, sir,” Ryn says. “She’s the new trainee starting with the fifth years this morning. We were supposed to meet with Councilor Merrydale, but I received a message saying I should bring her to you instead since you’re here today.”
    “Oh, yes, yes. Miss Larkenwood.” Councilor Bouchard sifts through the papers on the desk before lifting one and frowning at it. “Private training. Passed all requirements as set forth by the Council. Excellent results for all written examinations. Some trouble with guardian weapons.” He lowers the page and looks at me. “You know you cannot be a guardian if you cannot use the weapons.”
    I clasp my hands to stop my fingers from twisting together. I clear my throat to make sure my voice works this time. “Yes, sir, I know that. But I can use the weapons.” Figuring out how to pull invisible weapons from the air was the hardest part of my training. In the beginning, I’d stop in the middle of fighting so I could fully focus on picturing and feeling for the required weapon until it materialized in my hand. By that time, of course, Ryn would be staring at me with a bored expression while saying something like, “I’ve killed you three times already.” It took a lot of practice for me to get to the point where pulling weapons from the air felt more like instinct than effort. In fact, I’m still not entirely sure I’m there yet.
    “You can use them?” Councilor Bouchard says. “Oh good. Please show me a sword.”
    “I—I must—You want to see a sword?”
    “Yes. Hurry up, I haven’t got all day.”
    My right hand twitches, but I can’t seem to picture the sword. All I can see are those impatient little rat eyes, boring into me. Labeling me not good enough. A failure.
    Come on, Calla. See the sword. Feel the sword. Make it—
    Ryn tugs me against his chest, wraps an arm around me, and brings a knife to my neck. Jolted out of my frozen state, I reach forward and slash my hand through the air as if with a sword. Halfway through the motion—and to my great relief—a sword glittering like a thousand stars welded together appears in my hand. Ryn steps swiftly away from me, and I’m left with adrenaline coursing through my body and a glowing sword in my hand. It disappears when I release it, leaving a trace of sparkles in the air that vanish seconds later.
    Councilor Rat-Man-Bouchard blinks, then says, “I suppose that is good enough.” He turns back to the page in his hand. “Your mentor is Olive Stockland. I’m sure she can take things from here.” He waves a dismissive hand at us before searching through more papers on the desk.
    I turn and just about run for the door. Ryn follows close behind me and pulls the door shut. I pick up my bag, fix him with a glare, and whisper, “What happened to that guy not being intimidating?”
    Ryn pulls me away from the office and down the corridor. “What happened to you being able to use the weapons?”
    “I can use them. Sometimes I just need some … encouragement.”
    “Like a knife to your neck?”
    My bag strap slips, and I pull it back onto my shoulder. “Yes,” I say with a sigh. “I think I froze or something. He was staring at me with those weird little pink eyes, and I couldn’t focus enough on the weapons. So thanks for kicking my brain into action.”
    “You’re welcome.” We head back down the stairs. “And I’m sorry about Councilor Bouchard,” Ryn adds. “He’s usually pretty tame, but something’s obviously caused him to lose his temper today.”
    “Well, hopefully my new mentor has more patience than the Head Councilor.”
    “Hmm.” Ryn directs me down the second floor corridor. “I’m not sure ‘patient’ is the word I’d use to describe Olive