THIRTY-TWO
“Now I really feel like a kid being sent to the principal’s office for being naughty.” Angela rolled her eyes at Zarek, as he led her by the hand. The absurdity of it all hadn’t quite worn off yet as they reached the corridor where the house staff rushed to erect some medieval plumbing system.
“Any change?” Zarek’s tone was controlled again. It was his cold captain’s tone, the one that buried the humanity he only showed when he was alone with her.
“No.” Lord Gellar was a bear of a man, his dark hair and beard peppered with gray.
He stepped back as Zarek approached with Angela beside him.
The other Sworn Exarchs followed suit. There was always a subtle shift when she stood too close to their captain—while his brothers kept that careful distance.
Even now, a few of them glanced at his hand that loosely held hers, like it was wrong.
Angela felt the warmth of his callused palm against hers.
There was a flutter of recognition in her chest, as if some part of her had been waiting for exactly this touch, this connection that was deepening.
It unnerved her almost as much as the indoor rainstorm.
She didn’t understand it, this pull toward Zarek that seemed to grow stronger every time they were near each other.
Come on, she was never a blind romantic or a believer in fairy tales and fantasies.
She was a modern woman who’d been burned by men mislabeled as gentlemen to even want to think of the Captain as anything other than what he was: a soldier, following orders, who had been assigned to her.
Honestly, the guy had drawn the short straw on this gig.
Yet it didn’t stop her from standing closer to Zarek, for his warmth and protection from the eyes of the other warriors that crowded this corridor.
“It’s okay.” Zarek squeezed her hand. He wasn’t worried. So why should she?
She peered into the classroom where water continued to cascade from the ceiling in relentless sheets, pooling across the stone floor then out the door and down the corridor.
“Wow. It’s really raining cats and dogs in there, isn’t it?” A small giggle escaped.
The cluster of flustered professor did not look amused.
Zarek’s mouth twitched—barely—but she saw it.
It was enough to push her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop her smile, because she might be the only one not treating this as a crisis.
“So, Angela,” Zarek said quietly beside her, his voice pitched low enough that it felt personal, despite the audience. “What were you doing just before it started raining?”
“Um…” She shifted her weight, feeling the cool mist from the rain brush against her skin. “I was wishing the fire alarms would go off so I could skip class and hang outside for the afternoon.” She gave a small, embarrassed laugh, nervously fiddling with her medallion. “I know. Real mature, right?”
That joke made everyone stare at her like she was some alien that she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
Until she realized why they were looking at her.
“Hold on, I didn’t do this.”
“How do you know?” Gellar asked Angela.
“Because I’ve never done anything like this before.” She waved her hand at the impossible indoor weather system. “I wouldn’t even know how.”
“Why don’t you wish it to stop?” Zarek suggested.
“I can’t do that.” The irritation creeped in again at repeating herself. “I didn’t do this.”
“Try, please.”
She glanced at him. “I’m going to look ridiculous.”
“What have you got to lose?”
“I’d feel stupid doing this.”
“You said the same thing about welcoming me into your house when you didn’t think your aunt’s protective wards worked.”
“That’s true.” But this, in front of witnesses, was worse.
“Just try, Angela. That’s why we’re here, so you can see what you can do. Mistakes are okay; they’re part of the learning process. Believe me, I’ve done worse.”
She wanted to trust Zarek, sensing his certainty and his patience, even though it made no logical sense.
“Fine.” When nothing about this was fine.
Angela drew in a slow breath and peered at the ceiling where torrents of rain had no business being.
“I wish the rain would stop,” she said flippantly, half daring the universe to mock her.
Only the rain did.
Not gradually.
It just…
Stopped.
One moment, there was a thunderless downpour of fat raindrops and pools of water; the next, there was a silence so abrupt it seemed to suck the air from the corridor. Water clung to beams, pooling over stone floors, and dripped off desks, but there was no more rain.
“Oh, shit.” Her stomach dropped so fast that her knees weakened, as if her body was standing on wobbly ground, as the full weight crashed into her all at once, not just for what she’d done, but what it meant…
She had done magick. Her?
If she did this without trying, what else could she do? What if next time it wasn’t just rain? What if she hurt someone?
The edges of the corridor tilted, and her perspective melted in a way that made her wobble; she felt faint.
Instantly, Zarek caught her before the floor rushed up to meet her.
“I’ve got you.” He held her with steady arms, the contact sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with fear. The warm leather of his chest was solid beneath her cheek, allowing her to focus on the steady thrum of his heartbeat—hating how much she wanted to stay exactly where she was.
“What is wrong with me?”
“Magick, when new, can make the body weak. It’s like a muscle; you have to build up to use it.”
“I don’t—I can’t. Magick. Me?” She wasn’t even making sense. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, as shame and awe tangled in her throat. “What am I?”
She buried her face against his chest, but it hid nothing. She heard the whispers, caught the shocked expressions from the others in the corridor, which revealed the bigger picture of what they were all trying so hard not to say.
What she’d done—they couldn’t control it. A place where their rules of magic did not apply to her.
To think, all those years of trying to be normal, of burying the sense that she just didn’t fit in. Constantly telling herself she was fine, that she was just like everyone else, she just needed to try harder.
And now this.
Proof that she had never been normal. That she’d been lying to herself all along.
“Zarek, I didn’t mean to do this. I just—I thought it, and it happened. What if next time—”
“We’ll figure it out.”
But that didn’t change the fact that she might just be that new power that no one knew how to unload, which is why the Commander allowed her to be here, and why he was looking at her now like a tool in their war against Katarra.
“I’ll take you back to your room.” Zarek carried her, because she doubted she was steady enough to walk.
Behind them, the Sworn Exarchs did not speak.
They watched.
Not because it had rained.
But because the wards had held. And she had somehow overridden them all.