“Can I teach her, Aeserast?”

Unsettled by Shaniel’s proximity, Mara reflexively grabs the arm and yanks Shaniel over her shoulder, going into a kneeling position. His arm twists in her grip as he flips around, barely managing to land on his toes in front of her. A single hand on the ground helps him balance as he stares into Mara’s eyes, only centimeters away.

His grin widens, a wild look barely contained in his gaze. “You’ll be fun.”

Mara’s breath catches, excitement building in her. She doesn’t know how, but he had seen through her move. Her lips quirk up as she wonders if she can learn anything from this young man. “You’re interesting.”

“You’re the interesting one,” Shaniel breathes, smirking.

Aeserast sighs. “Do not kill one another. I will be in the garden. Join me when you’re done with your scuffle.”

Mara twists the arm she is still holding. Shaniel effortlessly flows with the movement, grabbing her arm and dragging her in closer. He strikes out, flat-palmed, toward her chest.

She easily deflects the wide-open move, raising an eyebrow at him. You’re better than that, she challenges silently, bringing her knee up. Being so close-ranged, she will be able to get in a hit –

He sidesteps it and leans in, his nose brushing her ear as he whispers, “I know you’re better than that.”

Mara’s breath stops. She has never liked anyone getting so close. She pulls her arm back for a quick punch to his side; he definitely won’t be able to dodge this one, not with his other arm still tightly clutching Mara’s.

He stops it with his hand just as his lips press against hers.

Her knee flies up, aiming between his legs. Surprised, Shaniel jumps out of the way. “Wha – ”

Crunch.

Shaniel howls, clutching his nose. Quivering with embarrassment and anger, Mara glares at him, her cheeks bright red. Her fingers remain clenched in a tight fist, silver sparks flitting over her as she fights to reign in her emotions.

She stalks to the private garden, deducing she had inflicted enough damage. She hopes his nose heals crooked. She finds a calm Aeserast sipping delicately at a cup of bluish-purple tea in the first niche of the garden, extra cups and saucers stacked neatly next to the flower-printed teapot.

Shaniel storms in after her, pointing at his crooked, bloody nose. “Bloody Mavi, Aeserast, she broke it!”

“That’s what you get for trying to kiss every cute person who talks to you,” he responds smoothly.

My first… to a playboy! she mourns, collapsing into one of the chairs and slumping until her head is against the back of the seat. She covers her face with her hands.

“Touch her and I am certain you will get more than just a broken nose,” Aeserast warns, and Mara’s eyes fly open to see the young man leaning toward her. She glares at Shaniel just as one of the silver bolts zipping around her crackles ominously. Surprisingly, the blood on his face is gone, although his nose is still crooked.

Shaniel’s eyes widen as he quickly backs up. “Whoa, easy there. That couldn’t have been your first, right?” He laughs awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood. His face pales when Mara’s murderous look doesn’t change. “It was. Carc’ra. I apologize.”

At his tilted ears and wide eyes, Mara cannot help but be reminded of a cute cat being chastised. “Some moral code you have there,” she grumbles, wrapping her arms around her legs.

“Actually, yes.” He perks up, hopping into a chair and perching in it cross-legged. He holds up his hand and raises his fingers as he ticks off his rules. “I don’t mess with intoxicated individuals. I don’t get involved with couples or grievers. I don’t take first kisses unless given permission. I don’t do anything with my students, and I stay away from groups.”

He winks and sticks out his tongue, looking ridiculously adorable.

“Ah.” Shaniel slaps his fist against his palm. He puffs out his chest as if proud with what he is about to say. “I also have nothing to do with anyone considered a minor.”

Aeserast and Mara stare at him with deadpan looks.

Shaniel glances between them, confused. “What?”

“Mara is fifteen,” Aeserast points out bluntly, sipping his tea.

Shaniel’s face turns so white even his freckles pale. He clutches his hair, breathing out slowly. “Oh, no… Ezra will kill me. I swear, Mara, I thought you were seventeen or eighteen… Please, please, please don’t tell your mother. She will gut me.” He closes his eyes. “I deserve it, though… fifteen. What have I done?”

Mara stares at him, baffled. What happened to the flirty playboy from just a moment ago?

Aeserast finishes his tea and sets the cup down. “He takes his rules very seriously,” he explains to Mara softly as he stands up and moves behind Mara’s chair. “Shaniel, her sixteenth birthday is this month, so Ezra will not kill you.”

Shaniel peeks out from between his fingers and watches as Aeserast gently sets his hands on Mara’s shoulders. “Wait, you let him touch you?” he asks, jealous.

“He’s not assaulting me,” she snaps back. As Aeserast rubs circles into her tense shoulder muscles, she feels herself calming down. “You’re doing that weird thing again,” she says in a mellow voice, her neck relaxing underneath his fingers. “I was controlling it on my own…”

Aeserast chuckles as her eyes close. “Not quite.”

Ezra walks around the corner with a book tucked under her arm. Her eyes widen at the sight of Shaniel pouting in a chair and Aeserast kneading Mara’s shoulders. “What happened here?” Ezra asks, concerned.

The two men glance her way. “Mara broke my nose,” Shaniel whines, pointing at the crooked feature. Mara shoots a half-disinterested, half-angry glare at him.

Ezra glances warily at Shaniel. “Knowing you, you probably deserved it.” She approaches him and raises her hand near his nose; it glows a soft butterscotch color. When she pulls away, his nose is straight.

Mara stares at Shaniel’s nose, wishing it had stayed broken just a little while longer. She is still getting used to seeing her mother use Source, but after watching her heal a broken wrist just the other day, she figures there are weirder things one can do with the strange energy.

Ezra hands the book to Mara, and the teenager sees it is her book on controlling Source. She immediately opens it to where she had left off and tunes out the others as Aeserast returns to his chair.

“Mind if I join you?” Ezra asks, gesturing to the seat next to him.

“Of course not.” Aeserast lifts the teapot. “Tea, anyone?”

Several hours pass by underneath the garden canopy. Mara squints at the blue sky through the leaves twining in the lattice above her, guessing it is around lunchtime by the position of the sun. Straightening in the chair as she closes her book, she catches sight of Aeserast and Ezra murmuring to one another in two small chairs at the other end of the small ‘room’ created by the lattice walls.

Mara’s stomach rumbles as she stretches.

Shaniel skips into the little garden cove, carrying a tray covered with food. “I snatched some lunch,” Shaniel says cheerily, setting the tray down on the little table before plopping in a chair.

Mara stares at the food warily, wondering if he did anything to it.

Aeserast sighs heavily, rubbing his forehead. “Did you steal from the kitchens again?” Shaniel grins sheepishly at him.

Mara snatches a cracker and a square piece of cheese without looking at the cat-eared man.

Ezra stands up, gesturing to Shaniel to follow her. “Shaniel, I would like to speak with you inside.” Her serious expression spoke trouble for the flirty cat-eared man.

Sighing, Shaniel rises to his feet and reluctantly follows her. “You’re gonna lecture me, aren’t you? Got your laugh, now I’m in trouble…” he grumbles, disappearing into the garden’s maze as he and Ezra head back to the mansion.

“How are your studies?” Aeserast asks with a small smile on his lips, distracting Mara.

Mara shrugs. “Good. Alkinian history before Voyana is a lot easier to digest. It’s a pity their advancement had to stop so abruptly just because that biochemical destroyed it.” She pauses, thinking about last night. She had taken the Alkinian book Kimala had recommended to her room and fell asleep while reading it. “Voyana means energy, and Source is someone’s personal energy, correct?”

Aeserast nods as he walks over to a Source globe stand. He lifts the softly glowing orb out of its floating position and sits across from her, holding the globe in the palm of his hand. It slowly shrinks to reveal a piece of frosted glass shaped like a duck egg.

“This is what an inactive Source globe looks like,” he explains. “Only someone who has Source can cause it to glow.”

The glass duck egg suddenly glows and expands into a spherical orb the size of Aeserast’s palm.

Mara stares at the orb. She examines it from as many angles as she can. It is definitely not static electricity or heat-sensitive, but it is not big enough to hold batteries, either. Curious, she asks, “How did you do that?”

Aeserast’s brows twitch together, and the fist-sized globe shrinks, going dark. “I focused my Source – the energy I was born with – at the globe. It reacts to even the smallest bit of energy, but the more it receives, the larger and brighter it will become.”

Mara tilts her head to the side as she recollects all she had learned on Source so far. “So because you were chemically altered by the biochemical, you can now control the biochemical, correct?”

Aeserast chuckles. “Yes. Here.” He takes her hand and presses the smooth glass egg into it. It lights up before it even touches her skin, and within a handful of seconds, it is bigger than her palm.

“Wh-what did I do?” Mara asks, uncertain. The globe pulses and strains to grow even more. A black hairline fracture appears, accompanied by a sharp noise sounding like superheated ice crackling.

“Mara, look at me.” Mara focuses on Aeserast’s calm expression. She can tell he had expected the orb to do this. “You need to figure out what is causing your anxiety. Your Source and emotions are very closely related; once one is out of control, so is the other. Think of it like a chain reaction. Try some of your meditation techniques.”

“What exactly do I need to do?” Mara asks, already regulating her breathing.

An ominous crack emanates from the globe.