He slowly circles me, assessing, and I start to seriously regret the faded leggings and frumpy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt I’m wearing. Couldn’t I have at least fixed my hair? I still haven’t bothered to trim it, and overgrown waves are frizzing everywhere.

“How can we turn you into some kind of actual threat?”

“Gee, thanks,” I respond dryly as I try desperately—and hopelessly—to ignore the heat I feel emitting from his body so close behind me.

“If the Inquisitors have antimatter, you’ll need knowledge of basic combat so you’re not completely useless if your abilities are neutralized.”

Combat sounds very hands-on. One side glance at those tight shorts and I want to be decidedly hands-off.

“Let’s start with the Sire stuff. You seem to think that’s a particular weakness.”

“Yes, one of many.”

I roll my eyes.

“Do you have a sparker on your spoon?”

“Yes.”

“Take it out. Do you know how to use it to create a flame?”

“Yes.” Well, I do in theory, but I’m not particularly good at it. The mod creates a small spark that can be ignited with Ha’i.

Rafe takes out his own spoon, opens to the sparking mod, and effortlessly creates a flame. “Now you.”

I follow suit, rather clunkily.

“Again,” he says, watching my hands closely. “What’s causing you to fumble?” he asks when it takes me three tries.

“I’ve never been great at calling Ha’i on demand.”

“You’re thinking too hard. It should be effortless.” He’s not the first person to tell me this, but no one seems to understand that it’s anything but effortless for me. Maybe I’m just a weak Sire.

He has me try a few more times, and once I get a little smoother at it, he says, “You won’t always be able to access your spoon, so you need to be prepared to improvise. In this room, what can you manipulate with your Ha’i?”

“Um, you. Me.”

He waits for more, but my mind is blank.

“The lights,” I say when the thought comes to me. “Maybe the water can be electrified?”

He nods. “What else?”

“I’m all out,” I say.

“Think!” he snaps. My spine straightens from the sharpness of his tone.

“I don’t know, okay? I thought that’s why you’re here to help me.”

“There’s a rug on the ground, a source of static electricity. Out that window and through this wall, there are trees, with branches and roots near enough to break through.” His words are clipped and full of judgment. “The rocks in the corner can be heated. If you have sense with you, the mud could be sculpted and animated into a golem. You need to learn to think on your feet. You need to know what you can control!”