Chapter 38
Maeve
PROFESSOR AZULA IS ALREADY WAITING for me in the elemental practice room when I arrive. Immediately, I glance at the clock on the wall, and I confirm that I’m five minutes early. But Professor Azula is strict when it comes to punctuality; I’m not surprised she’s already here.
“Miss Vandermere,” she says as I set my bookbag down on a table beside the door.
“Professor.”
I reach up, about to remove my scarf, then remember why I can’t.
Severin’s bite marks still haven’t fully healed, and I’ll need to hide them until they do.
This morning in class, his eyes were so bright red that I’m sure even the students at the far back of the lecture hall could see them.
There were whispers, curiosity about who the handsome vampire professor had fed from, and all the while, I sat there with the scarf around my neck, knowing exactly whose throat his fangs had found.
But now, in front of Professor Azula, I know I have to be careful. If she were to find out, I’m certain Severin would lose his job.
So instead of removing the scarf, I adjust it, making sure it’s fully secure around my throat. Then I walk to the center of the room.
“How has your private practice been coming along?” Professor Azula asks.
She’s holding a small journal in one hand, and I know it’s where she jots down notes after each of these practice sessions.
She had a lot to write after our last session, when my energy sphere exploded spectacularly, like fireworks zipping off the castle’s towers.
We haven’t had one of these sessions for a few weeks. This is another element of my fellowship preparation, and recently, I’ve felt like the fellowship has been slipping out of my grip one failed demonstration at a time. But I feel different today. Stronger, more stable.
And I intend to be successful this time, like I was that night alone on the tower, when I made the decision to ask Severin to feed on me.
The thought makes my chest warm. That’s happened a couple times today, but I noticed it most strongly during Dangerous Magic Across Time this morning.
When Severin was at the front of the classroom, lecturing about old noble families that used to use blood amplification rituals to strengthen their ancestral magic across generations, I felt a consistent pull in my chest, like my heart was trying to float out of my rib cage and down to Severin.
It kept distracting me from the lecture, and multiple times I found myself just watching him, not taking notes or even fully listening to what he was saying.
“Miss Vandermere?”
I jolt, realizing I never answered Professor Azula’s question.
“Sorry, Professor. It’s been coming along well. I think . . . I think I’ve made progress.”
Professor Azula tips her head, wearing an expression of unconvinced curiosity. “Well, let’s see what you’ve been working on, then.”
She moves to the front of the room, positioning herself near the wall.
This room is charmed to contain elemental magic, so it’s the only interior room in this castle where I can practice without blowing anything up.
I much prefer the spire, but Professor Azula likes things her way, and this is where she insists we practice.
I shift my feet on the floor, then hesitate. When I’m on the tower with Severin, practicing our swordsmanship drills, I’m always barefoot. Severin requires it. And when I was finally successful at maintaining my energy sphere, I was barefoot when I did it.
So, before calling on my magic, I reach down and pull my boots off, then toss them toward the door. As they thump onto the floor, Professor Azula arches one crimson brow, but she doesn’t say anything.
Now, I roll out my shoulders and center myself, feeling my toes pressing into the cool floor under my feet. I close my eyes and draw in a slow breath, letting it fill my lungs and lift my chest. And I recall what Severin told me one night on the tower.
Perhaps you don’t need to control. Perhaps you only need to guide.
I don’t need to control. I need only to guide.
Using his voice as my tether and mantra, I lift my hands, eyes still closed, and call on my magic. For months, I’ve attempted to control the current, to force it into a contained entity. And without fail, it always resisted. This time, I’m not rigid, not unyielding.
With my palms facing each other, a familiar prickle tickles my fingertips, energy and sparks beginning to gather. I start weaving those threads of energy together, like a tapestry made of lightning.
I let the storm rise inside me in the way it wishes to. I give it the freedom it yearns for.
Slowly, I open my eyes.
The air between my palms shimmers with bright white light. It flickers as I gather more energy, the strands of lightning weaving together.
I breathe as the energy intensifies, reminding myself not to clamp down too hard, not to try to force it into the shape that I think it should take. And again, I think of Severin, of the way he touched my chest just over my heart and told me I needed to learn these lessons in my bones.
Slowly, I think I’m starting to do just that.
My energy sphere intensifies, flaring for a moment as I recall that moment with Severin on the spire. Warmth pulses in my hands, then spreads up my arms and into my chest.
And I think I feel that tug again, like I did in class this morning. It tries to draw my attention, and my energy sphere crackles in response.
But I remain focused, muscles soft, toes still curling into the cool stone floor.
This is the moment when my sphere usually goes wild, refusing to allow me to hold it still. Now, though, I don’t try to hold it still.
Storms are not static, after all.
The bright white sphere pulses and dances between my palms, bigger than what I usually create. The light illuminates Professor Azula’s face, her crimson eyes widening slightly. My magic hums and crackles, vibrating in a way that feels content rather than chaotic.
The sphere holds.
Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.
A sheen of sweat starts to dampen my brow, but still, I hold the sphere.
In the past, I would’ve lost my control of it already, and Professor Azula would be correcting me, a stern look on her face as she told me what I’d done wrong. But those lessons never stuck with me.
Severin’s teachings have. I remember the feel of a sword in my hand, the weight of it, the need to both soften my muscles and strengthen them at the same time in order to flow through the drills on the top of the spire. It’s all about balance.
Professor Azula steps toward me, one measured pace at a time. When she’s standing in front of me, she says, “Interesting.”
I swallow, still focusing my intention into the sphere. My arms are starting to tremble from the effort of holding so much magic and energy in place.
“Now collapse it cleanly,” Professor Azula instructs. “Don’t allow yourself to lose control.”
Nodding, I draw a breath, then widen my palms. Instead of trying to collapse the energy all at once, which would result in an explosion of lightning, I allow it to slowly dissipate, threads of light unraveling like mist in the morning sunlight.
The sphere thins, the threads of lightning flickering and fading until nothing remains in my hands but empty air.
My fingers are still trembling as my lips pull into a smile. I look up and meet Professor Azula’s gaze.
Silence fills the room as she looks down at me. Then a rare smile tugs at one corner of her mouth. “That is a marked improvement, Miss Vandermere.”
My shoulders loosen, and I let out a breath, softening my stance. “Thank you, Professor.”
“What changed?” she asks.
I hesitate, because the only answer that comes to mind is the one I can’t give her.
Severin’s fingertips on my heart, his voice wrapping around me, the moonlight reflecting in his dark eyes as he knocks my sword from my hand yet again.
He’s the reason I’ve learned this lesson, the reason these teachings are settling into my bones, as he put it. But I can’t say that. Especially with his fang marks still adorning one side of my neck.
“I stopped trying to force my magic into stillness,” I say, drawing myself up just a bit and meeting Professor Azula’s intense crimson eyes. “I’ve always known storms don’t like to be static, but . . . I finally learned how to put that concept into practice.”
She studies me for a long moment, and I don’t miss the way her gaze flicks to my scarf. I have the sudden desire to reach up and adjust it, to make sure it’s still covering the bite marks on my neck, but I resist the urge. It would just make her suspicious.
Finally, she meets my eyes again and says, “Elemental magic resists rigidity. But it does not forgive recklessness. Especially elemental magic as powerful as yours.” Her eyes narrow slightly. “Remember that, Maeve.”
I nod. “I will.”
She opens her notebook and jots something down, then flicks it closed. “If you can reproduce this consistently, I’ll feel much more confident in your demonstration for the board.”
She means the fellowship board.
Her praise sends a little tingle of excitement down my spine. “I won’t disappoint you,” I say.
That smile flickers at the edges of her lips again. “I know you won’t, Miss Vandermere.” She moves past me, her hand finding my shoulder for a brief moment and squeezing. Her touch is warm, like Lyra’s is. Fire witches are always warm.
Then she’s gone, leaving me in the charmed chamber alone.
I let out a massive sigh of relief.
My body is exhausted, but excitement bubbles inside me.
I did it. Finally. Now Professor Azula can start taking me seriously for this fellowship position.
And it’s all because of Severin. Because he believed in me enough to push me and guide me in the way I needed most.
I can’t wait to tell him about this.
There’s that tug inside of my chest again, more noticeable this time.
I lift my hand to my chest and press my fingertips into my skin, where the tug is originating from.
And just beneath my fingers, I feel the steady beat of my heart, though it feels different, like it’s not just beating for me now. Like it’s beating for two.
And I wonder if Severin feels the same . . . and what it means if he does.