I stand, holding my breath, as Callie points her finger at the bowl of water on her desk. This is her fifteenth try, and I can feel her frustration as if it"s my own. Sweat beads on her forehead, and I swear the air in the room crackles with her powers.
This shouldn"t be possible. She"s a half-witch, like I am. Her powers should be much weaker than they are. Perhaps it"s because she"s from the royal line. I dismiss the thought as soon as I"ve had it. Magic isn"t like that. She should still be weaker. The only explanation is that she"s gained her powers from somewhere else. Or her father isn"t who everyone thinks he is. I suppose that"s always a possibility, though it"ll also be a minor scandal.
that"sPapers on Callie"s desk lift into the air. Pencils fly onto the ground. The books slide
