She isn't trying to do magic, that's the thing. It's a reflex, when her emotions get the best of her, even if it is an act. And to a degree, it is.

"I'm sorry!" she tries, looking at the broken remnants of the vase. "I can't- not always- he never taught me." He taught her plenty of things, just not much about magic. Nothing that would give her power over him, a way to be her own person. She'd learned, but it had been on her own. Funny, how a girl so involved with Midnight was hardly the level of witch she assumed everyone thought she was.

At least they didn't know that.

Nothing shatters, but a few pages of books turn of their own accord. "Please-" please what she wasn't even sure anymore. "He's all I've got left."