Lillian had never been to the forty-second floor.
She didn't even know the building had a forty-second floor until Adrian led her to a private elevator hidden behind what looked like a supply closet on the fortieth floor. The button panel inside only had two options: down, and a unmarked button that required a keycard to activate.
"This is starting to feel very secret agent," she said as the elevator climbed higher than any floor she'd seen on the building directory.
"Not secret agent." Adrian tucked the keycard back into his wallet. "Just private."
The elevator opened directly into what could only be described as Adrian's personal sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around three walls, offering a panoramic view of Manhattan that made her apartment's fire escape vista look like a postcard. But it was the rest of the space that made her stop and stare.
Books. Everywhere.
Not the sleek, barely-touched volumes that decorated most executive offices. These were old books with cracked spines and worn covers, stacked on shelves that reached from floor to ceiling. Some looked ancient, bound in leather that had darkened with age. Others were clearly modern, but all of them had the rumpled, well-loved appearance of books that had been read multiple times.
"You actually read all these?" she asked, running her finger along a shelf at eye level.
"Most of them." Adrian moved to a wet bar in the corner and poured himself a glass of something amber. "Can I get you anything?"
"Coffee would be great." She pulled a book from the shelf and opened it, then immediately closed it again. The text wasn't in any language she recognized. "What is this?"
"Old Norwegian. It's a collection of folk tales."
"You read Norwegian?"
"Among other things." He handed her a steaming mug. "I've always been good with languages."
Lillian accepted the coffee and wandered deeper into the room. Besides the books, there were other curiosities scattered throughout the space. A collection of what looked like antique scientific instruments sat on one table. Another held a chess set carved from black and white stone. In the corner, a telescope pointed toward the windows.
But it was the painting above the fireplace that stopped her cold.
It showed a family of four standing in front of a massive castle. The man and woman were clearly nobility of some kind, dressed in rich fabrics and wearing crowns that glittered even in the painted representation. Between them stood two boys, maybe ten and twelve years old.
The younger boy looked exactly like Adrian.
"That's you," she said, pointing at the painting.
"It's meant to be a fantasy piece." Adrian's voice was carefully neutral. "The artist had quite an imagination."
"Right." Lillian studied the painting more closely. The castle in the background looked real enough to walk into, and the detail work on the clothing was extraordinary. If it was fantasy, someone had put a lot of effort into making it look historical. "And this is what, exactly? Your family's coat of arms?"
"Something like that."
She waited for him to elaborate, but he'd moved to the center of the room where someone had cleared a large circular area in the carpet. Strange symbols were woven into the fabric around the edges of the circle, and Lillian could swear they seemed to shimmer when she looked at them directly.
"What's this for?" she asked.
"Training." Adrian set his drink on a nearby table and rolled up his sleeves. "If you're going to learn to control your abilities, you need to understand what you're working with."
"Which is?"
"Magic." He said it like he was commenting on the weather. "Real magic. The kind that's been in certain families for generations."
Lillian felt that familiar prickle of unease. "Certain families."
"Old bloodlines. People who can trace their ancestry back centuries, sometimes longer. Magic tends to run in families, passed down from parent to child like any other genetic trait."
"And you think I'm from one of these families."
"I know you are." Adrian stepped into the center of the circle. "The question is how much of your heritage you're ready to accept."
Lillian joined him in the circle, setting her coffee mug outside the woven boundary. The moment both feet crossed the line, the symbols around the edge began to glow with soft golden light.
"Okay," she said, proud that her voice stayed steady. "That's new."
"The circle responds to magical energy. The stronger the magic, the brighter the glow." Adrian gestured at the symbols, which were now pulsing gently. "You're putting out quite a bit of power."
"I'm not doing anything."
"That's the problem. You're broadcasting magical energy without any control or focus. It's like leaving a radio on full volume—eventually, someone's going to hear it."
The implication was clear. "The people you mentioned. The ones who might want to hurt me."
"Among others." Adrian held up his right hand, palm facing her. "Let me show you something. Copy what I do."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, a small flame appeared hovering above his palm. Not a normal flame from a lighter or match—this one was pure white and gave off no heat that she could feel from two feet away.
"How are you doing that?"
"Concentration and will. The flame exists because I want it to exist." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Your turn."
"I don't know how to—"
"Don't think about it. Just want it."
Lillian held up her hand and tried to copy his pose. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to imagine a flame appearing above her palm.
Nothing happened.
"I can't do it."
"Try again. But this time, don't think about making fire. Think about light."
She tried again, picturing a soft glow like a nightlight. Still nothing.
"I'm obviously not cut out for this."
"One more time." Adrian's voice was patient. "But instead of trying to create something, try to let something out. Magic isn't about forcing power into existence. It's about releasing what's already there."
Lillian closed her eyes and tried to change her approach. Instead of pushing, she tried to relax. To open herself up to whatever was already inside her.
The moment she stopped trying to force it, warmth spread through her chest and down her arm.
She opened her eyes and gasped.
A sphere of pure silver light floated six inches above her palm. It was beautiful, casting dancing shadows around the room and making the golden circle symbols pulse brighter in response.
"That's impossible," she whispered.
"Why impossible?"
"Because I've never done anything like this before in my life."
Adrian was staring at the light with an expression she couldn't read. "How does it feel?"
"Natural." The admission surprised her. "Like I've been holding my breath my whole life and just remembered how to breathe."
"Good. Now make it bigger."
Without thinking, Lillian willed the light to expand. It grew from the size of a golf ball to the size of a basketball, then kept growing until it filled the space between them.
"Smaller," Adrian said quickly.
She pulled it back down to its original size.
"Change the color."
The silver light shifted to blue, then green, then a warm golden yellow that matched the circle symbols.
"Stop," Adrian said, and there was something like awe in his voice.
Lillian closed her hand and the light vanished. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No. You did everything right. That's the problem."
"How is that a problem?"
Adrian walked to the edge of the circle and picked up his drink. His hands were shaking slightly.
"What you just did should take months of training. Years, for most people. I've seen professional magical practitioners struggle to maintain a light sphere for more than a few minutes."
"Maybe I'm just a quick learner."
"Quick learner?" Adrian laughed, but it came out strained. "Lillian, you just performed advanced light manipulation on your first try. Without any training. Without even understanding what you were doing."
"So?"
"So either you're the most naturally gifted magical practitioner I've ever encountered, or..." He trailed off.
"Or what?"
"Or your bloodline is even more powerful than I thought."
There was something in his tone that made her nervous. "Is that good or bad?"
"I don't know yet."
Adrian moved to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a thick volume bound in dark leather. He flipped through pages covered with diagrams and text in what looked like Latin.
"Let's try something else," he said. "Something that should be completely impossible for a beginner."
He showed her a page with a complex diagram of intersecting circles and symbols. In the center was a drawing of a plant—a simple flower with five petals.
"This is a growth enhancement spell. Very basic, very safe. It encourages natural growth processes without forcing anything unnatural." He set the book on a table and pulled a small potted plant from a shelf. "The spell requires precise energy control and usually takes several attempts to master."
The plant was clearly dying. Brown leaves, wilted stem, soil that looked like it hadn't been watered in weeks.
"I want you to place your hands on either side of the pot and try to encourage the plant to grow. Don't force it—just offer it your energy and see what happens."
Lillian knelt beside the table and positioned her hands around the pot. The moment her palms came within inches of the ceramic, she could feel something.
The plant was barely alive, but there was still a tiny spark of life in its roots. Fragile and fading, but not completely gone.
Without thinking, she reached out with whatever power had created the light sphere and gently touched that spark.
The response was immediate.
Green shot through the plant's stem like liquid emerald. The wilted leaves straightened and darkened to healthy green. New growth burst from every branch, and within seconds, bright yellow flowers were blooming across the entire plant.
But it didn't stop there.
The plant kept growing, spreading beyond the boundaries of its pot. Vines cascaded over the edges of the table, and flowers continued to bloom in cascading waves of color. Yellow became orange, orange became red, red became purple.
"Stop," Adrian said sharply.
Lillian pulled her hands back, but the plant continued growing for another few seconds before finally stopping. What had been a dying houseplant was now a miniature garden that covered half the table and was reaching toward the windows.
"Did I break it?"
Adrian was staring at the transformed plant with the same expression he might wear if she'd just turned water into wine.
"No. You healed it. And enhanced it. And probably added about five years to its natural lifespan." He looked at her. "In thirty seconds."
"Is that bad?"
"It's extraordinary."
But he didn't sound happy about it. He sounded worried.
"Adrian, you're starting to scare me. Am I dangerous?"
"Not dangerous. Just... unprecedented."
He closed the book and returned it to the shelf, then spent a long moment staring out the windows at the city below.
"The magical world has rules," he said finally. "Natural laws that govern how magic works, how much power individuals can channel, how quickly abilities develop. What you're doing breaks most of those rules."
"Maybe the rules are wrong."
"Or maybe you're not entirely human."
The words hung between them like a challenge.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Magical bloodlines are human, Lillian. Enhanced humans, but human nonetheless. But there are other things in the magical world. Older things. More powerful things."
"Things like what?"
"Beings that existed before humans learned to use magic. Some people call them the First Ones. Others call them gods."
Lillian felt cold suddenly, despite the warmth of the room. "And you think I'm descended from these... First Ones?"
"I think it's possible."
"Based on what? Because I can make plants grow and create pretty lights?"
"Based on the fact that you're learning advanced magic faster than anyone in recorded history. Based on the fact that when you touch me, I can feel power that makes my own abilities look like party tricks." Adrian turned to face her. "Based on the fact that every instinct I have is telling me you're the most important person I've ever met, and I have no idea why."
The admission was raw, honest in a way that made her chest tight.
"Important how?"
"I don't know. But I intend to find out."
He moved closer, and she could see the gold flecks in his blue eyes more clearly. This close, she could also feel something else—a humming energy that seemed to resonate with whatever power was growing inside her.
"What aren't you telling me?" she asked.
"About what?"
"About everything. This place. These books. That painting. You." She gestured around the room. "Nobody has a private magical training room on the top floor of their office building unless magic is a very big part of their life."
"You're right."
"So tell me the truth."
Adrian was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was careful.
"My family has been involved in the magical world for generations. Old traditions, old responsibilities. When I was younger, I thought I'd left all of that behind to build something new here."
"And now?"
"Now I think the old world has found me anyway."
"Because of me."
"Because of what you represent."
"Which is?"
"Change. The kind of change that scares people in power."
Lillian looked around the room again—the ancient books, the magical circle, the painting of a royal family that included a boy who looked exactly like Adrian.
"You're not just some businessman who happens to know about magic, are you?"
"No."
"What are you?"
Adrian's eyes met hers, and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her everything. She could see the struggle on his face, the war between honesty and whatever secrets he was keeping.
"I'm someone who wants to protect you," he said finally.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I can give you right now."
"Why?"
"Because the whole truth would put you in more danger than you're already in."
"I'm pretty sure I can handle it."
"You can barely handle your own power. Today proved that."
The words stung because they were true. She had felt completely out of control with the plant, like she was riding a wave that could easily have drowned her.
"Then teach me."
"That's what I'm trying to do."
"I mean really teach me. Not just party tricks with lights and plants. If I'm as powerful as you think I am, I need to know how to use that power."
"And if teaching you makes you more dangerous?"
"Then I guess you'll have to trust me not to use it for evil."
Adrian smiled at that, the first genuine smile she'd seen from him since they'd entered the circle.
"Evil's not what I'm worried about."
"What are you worried about?"
"That once you understand what you're capable of, you won't need me anymore."
The admission surprised them both. Lillian could see it in his face—he hadn't meant to say that out loud.
"Adrian..."
"We should probably call it a day," he said quickly. "This was a lot for your first lesson."
"Wait." She caught his arm as he moved toward the elevator. "I do need you."
"For now."
"For longer than that."
He looked down at her hand on his arm, then back at her face. "You don't know me well enough to make that kind of statement."
"Then let me know you better."
"It's complicated."
"Everything's complicated. That doesn't mean it's not worth it."
For a moment, she thought he was going to step closer. There was something in his expression that made her pulse quicken, a heat that had nothing to do with magic.
Instead, he gently removed her hand from his arm.
"Same time tomorrow?"
"Adrian—"
"Same time tomorrow, Lillian."
His tone made it clear the conversation was over.
But as they rode the elevator back down to the fortieth floor, Lillian couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just scratched the surface of something much bigger than magical training.
And that Adrian Valderon was far more important to her future than either of them was ready to admit.
End of Chapter 7