Chapter 33
Poppy
“SO, IF YOU VISUALIZE THE existing enchantment as a frequency,” I say, gesturing to the silver ring resting on the table between us, “resonance amplification works by matching that frequency and then gradually increasing it. Like . . .” I tip my head while searching for the right analogy to explain this concept.
“Like harmonizing with a song and then making it louder.”
Aric watches me intently from across the library table. We’re in our usual corner, surrounded by textbooks and parchment covered in Aric’s handwriting. It’s been a week since we returned from Faunwood, and tutoring has resumed—though it feels different now.
“Tell us everything!” she demanded, pulling me down onto the couch while Alina and Maeve abandoned the puzzle they’d been working on to gather around. “Did you share a room? Did he kiss you? Did you—”
“Lyra,” Alina interrupted, though her blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Give her a chance to breathe.”
But there was no escaping the interrogation. While we sipped tea together, I told them about Aurora’s family, the memory mist, and exploring the village. When I mentioned the one-room situation at the inn, Lyra actually squealed, and even Maeve arched an intrigued brow.
“And?” Lyra pressed, leaning forward eagerly where she sat on the floor by the fire, its flames illuminating her crimson curls. “What happened?”
My cheeks flamed hot enough to rival any fire spell. “We . . . talked. A lot. And he was a perfect gentleman.”
“Boring,” Lyra declared with a shake of her head.
Maeve studied me more carefully, and something knowing flickered in her storm-purple eyes. “But not too much of a gentleman, right?”
That gave it away; I couldn’t hold my smile back any longer.
I buried my face in my hands, and all three of them erupted into joyous laughter—and for the first time, I felt like I could actually join in on their conversations about men and sex, when before, I’d felt like an outcast, even if that was never their intention.
Now, a week later, I’m still getting knowing looks from them whenever Aric’s name comes up. But it’s not nearly so embarrassing as I thought it would be.
The real problem is that I can’t stop thinking about what we did together in the inn that night . . . and wondering when we’ll do it again, because I’d really like to.
Aric studies the ring—the one I helped him enchant early in the semester using that rune map we worked on. “So, I need to feel the magic that’s already there first, then amplify it.”
“Exactly. It’s one of the most useful spells for runework.” I tap my notes. “If you can master this, you’ll be able to strengthen any rune you create. Make them last longer, work more powerfully.”
“That would be helpful,” he says, and there’s something thoughtful in his tone, like he’s considering a specific situation, but he doesn’t elaborate.
“Helpful for a lot of things,” I agree. “Here, I’ll demonstrate with the ring, since you’re already familiar with its enchantment.”
I pick up the silver band carefully. It’s delicate and feminine, and I can see the faint etching on the inside where a name seems to have once been inscribed, though it’s been worn smooth with age and handling.
“First, I attune to the existing magic.” I take a slow breath, letting my awareness sink into the ring’s enchantment. I can feel the magic from the rune map we created together, feeding the steady glow. “Then I match the resonance . . .”
Aric leans forward, seeming eager to watch, and beneath the table, his leg brushes mine, bringing back memories of the night we spent together: his mouth on my neck, the touch of his fingers along my skin, the sounds we made together in the darkness.
Immediately, my concentration wavers, and instead of smoothly amplifying the enchantment, my magic causes the ring to flare with bright light, sending a shower of harmless golden sparks across the table.
One lands on Aric’s nose.
I gasp and immediately try to brush the rogue spark away, but Aric’s already laughing—that deep, rumbling laugh that I’d recognize anywhere.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, my cheeks burning. “I don’t know what happened. I’ve done this so many times—”
“Seems like you got distracted,” Aric says, still grinning. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, his biceps bulging beneath his long-sleeved academy tunic. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to dock points for that performance, Miss Waverly. Lack of focus. Sloppy spellwork—”
“It’s a very precise spell,” I protest, trying not to laugh.
“—and dangerous discharge of magical energy,” he continues, ignoring me. “That spark could have damaged my mother’s ring. Or singed my eyebrows.”
The mention of his mother makes me immediately sober. “Oh goddess, I’m so sorry. I didn’t hurt it, did I?” I pick up the ring anxiously, examining it for any damage.
“Hey, I’m kidding,” Aric says gently, his teasing tone gone. “The ring is fine. More than fine—it’s probably the most well-protected piece of jewelry in the entire academy with how many times I’ve practiced on it.”
I turn the ring over in my fingers, studying the worn inscription inside.
“You . . . don’t talk about your mother much,” I say.
He told me a few stories about her while we walked through Faunwood before meeting Aurora, but that’s it.
And I’d like to know more about her, but I don’t want to push him.
He’s quiet for a moment, and I worry I’ve overstepped. But then he reaches across the table and gently takes the ring from me, holding it up to catch the afternoon light coming through the stained glass window by our table.
“She got sick when I was young,” he says softly.
“I was about twelve, maybe thirteen. Some kind of wasting illness that the healers couldn’t cure.
She was sick for almost two years before .
. .” He trails off, jaw tight. “Pa tried everything. Every healer, every remedy. We even made a trip back to her tribe, to see if their shaman knew how to save her. But nothing worked. She was so tired at the end. She tried to hide it from me, but . . .” His broad shoulders rise and fall with a shrug.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He sets the ring down on the table between us.
“It was just me and Pa after that. He threw himself into work, and I . . . I tried to be good. Tried not to cause trouble. Tried to make him proud, you know?” He lets out a breath.
“Then Maeve’s mom came into our lives. Marceline.
She’s been good for Pa—good for both of us, really.
And Maeve . . .” A small smile tugs at his lips.
“Maeve’s a pain in my ass, but she’s also the best sister I could ask for.
She really helped me come out of my shell. ”
“She cares about you,” I say softly. “Even if she pretends to be annoyed all the time.”
We both smile at that.
“Yeah.” He picks up the ring again, turning it over in his large hands.
“Ma used to wear this every day. After she died, Pa gave it to me. Said I should keep it safe, give it to someone special someday.” His hazel eyes find mine.
“I’ve been carrying it around for so long, I think I forgot that was the plan.
It just became mine, you know? A reminder of her. ”
My throat feels tight. “She would be proud of you. For working so hard. Being the runeball captain. Your kindness. All of it.”
“You think?” He looks uncertain, younger somehow, like his inner child is still seeking that validation.
“I know,” I say firmly. “And I’m proud of you too.”
Something shifts in his expression—surprise, then warmth, then something that makes the butterflies in my stomach swirl into a tornado.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. Then, clearing his throat, he sets the ring down and straightens in his chair. “Okay. Let’s try this again. Walk me through the resonance amplification one more time, and I promise not to distract you.”
“You exist, therefore you distract me,” I mutter, but I’m smiling as I pick up the ring again.
He leans forward before I can get started, elbows on the table, and his voice drops lower. “What were you thinking about? When you lost focus?”
My cheeks flame with heat. “Nothing.”
“Lies.” His smile is teasing. “You’re a terrible liar, Brains. One of the many things I like about you.”
I clear my throat, trying to regain some composure. “I was focused on the demonstration. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” He arches a brow.
“You’re very distracting,” I admit quietly, not meeting his eyes. “I was just thinking about Faunwood.”
“Oh.” His voice drops lower. “What about Faunwood?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “You know what.”
“Maybe I want to hear you say it.”
I shake my head quickly, the movement so jarring that it sends my glasses slipping down the bridge of my nose. Though we’re tucked into a quiet corner, there are other students in the library, and this isn’t a conversation I want anyone overhearing.
Aric’s expression softens. “I’ve not been able to stop thinking about that night,” he says quietly.
“About you.” He reaches across the table to take my hand, his thumb tracing little swirls onto my skin.
“And you’re pretty distracting too. I’ve read the same paragraph in this textbook three times because I keep watching you instead. ”
“Really?” I ask. I’m usually the one who blends into the scenery—I’d thought myself incapable of causing a distraction.
“Really.” He grins. “But we should probably actually study. I have that exam in Magical Theory and Application next week, and I really do need to pass it.”
“Right. Yes. Studying.” I pull my hand back reluctantly and try to refocus on my notes. My tutoring rules and guidelines have been completely abandoned at this point. “Where were we?”
“You were about to show me resonance amplification again. Without setting me on fire this time.”
“I did not set you on fire.” I pick up one of his crumpled pieces of parchment and throw it at him. He catches it easily, laughing, and I can’t help but laugh too.