I’m not sure what I did wrong, but I clearly made him uncomfortable. “Never mind.” I open the door. “We can do this another time.”

“No.” His voice is soft, but forceful. “Now is fine.”

I hesitate, my hand on the doorknob again. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Let’s get started.”

The task makes us forget our discomfort with each other.

Bram tries to explain the sensation of drawing magic from bones that haven’t been prepared—bones that are still inside a living body.

“In some ways it’s exactly the same,” he says. “When I was young, I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first. But now that I think about it, the technique is slightly different—push instead of pull. Does that make any sense?”

“Not really.”

“When the bones aren’t prepared, it takes more focus. More control.”

“More control how?”

He cocks his head to one side and stares at the wall. “It’s hard to articulate. Maybe you should just attempt it, and I’ll try to guide you.”

So I sit across from Bram, trying to focus all my attention on my own bones. I cradle my elbows in my palms and feel the pointy contours of my olecranon. I try to envision it just as I would if it were lying on a velvet cloth in front of me. I can sense the magic, but it’s distant—like a scent on the breeze that vanishes as quickly as it arrived.

“It doesn’t feel right,” I say. “I don’t think it’s working.”

“How do you usually feel bone magic?”

The question takes me by surprise. It never occurred to me that it wouldn’t feel the same for everyone. “It’s usually like a pull in my belly.”

“Like the magic drawing you in?”

“Yes,” I say, “exactly.”

“I have an idea.” He offers his hand and pulls me to my feet. Then he moves so he’s standing behind me. “May I touch you?”

My breath stills. I nod.

He lays a palm on my stomach, and every thought flies out of my head. If he imagined this would help me focus, he was mistaken.

“You’re trying to feel the magic here, right? Like a tug that pulls you forward into a vision?”

I have to force the answer from my lips. “Yes.”

“So I need you to try the opposite. Imagine you’re trying to pull my palm toward your spine. Draw power out of the bones and reel it in. Instead of falling forward into magic, you’re gathering it in your center.”

His breath ripples against the nape of my neck. My heart bumps against my ribs.

“Close your eyes and try again.”

I obey. My stomach feels hot beneath his hand. I can’t think with him touching me. I wish …