60 #2
I link my arm with his, resting my head against his shoulder. “So. How was your night? With Faye. And—are you going to the ball together?”
Neither he nor Faye has said anything about it. Not even when I grilled her relentlessly while digging through the archives for anything on Caryan’s twin.
Ryder turns red before he can stop himself.
“Tell me,” I nudge.
“Tell us ,” Shay adds. “Finally.”
They swarm him until he throws up his hands in defeat when Cassius starts tickling him. He gets all wolfy, trying to scratch himself with his leg.
“Tell me…” I nudge him.
“Abyss, have mercy!” Shay cries. “Tell us all—finally!”
“Okay, we kissed, alright. And I think she’s gorgeous, and she said she still needs to think about it.”
“Oooh,” Shay teases.
Ryder rolls his eyes. I’ve seen them circling each other for weeks—at every training session with Blair. I’ve seen Faye’s aura flare every time she spots him.
“I didn’t know you kissed,” I say, genuinely surprised.
“She didn’t tell you?” Ryder suddenly looks worried.
“Maybe you weren’t good enough, man,” Cassius says. “If you kissed her the way you kissed me that one time during the full moon, when we were drunk on plum wine—”
Ryder slaps a hand over Cassius’s mouth. “Shut up, elf! I was very drunk. That doesn’t count.”
“You two kissed?” Shay’s gray eyes flick between them. “That’s…oddly hot.”
The banter dies as we reach the classroom.
I realize I’ve never actually seen Professor Marryll in person—I never showed up to her class. But I still have to pass her warding exam.
A breathtaking blonde elf awaits us, curls tumbling down to her waist, dressed in a medieval-gothic ensemble that’s both severe and undeniably sexy, accentuating her figure and cleavage.
Her gray eyes lock onto me immediately, sharp and assessing, as if I’ve personally offended her by never attending.
I slide into a seat in the back row and watch as my classmates are tested—simple wards, boundary spells, enchantments. I probably should have come to this class. Too late for regret now.
One by one, they pass.
All my classmates pass, and I’m the last one called forward.
I rise from my seat and walk to the desk. A single, flat gray stone rests there, no bigger than my palm.
Marryll’s aura prickles with cruelty as she watches me with her gray eyes. “The special silver elf, I heard. Let’s see whether you’re as good at warding as you believe you are,” she mocks. “Now pick up the stone.”
I hiss the moment I touch it.
Pain detonates through my body—sharp, electric—making me convulse. My muscles lock as tears burn at my eyes and I bite back a scream clawing up my throat. I try to drop the stone.
I can’t.
No matter how hard I struggle, my fingers refuse to let go.
Sweat breaks out across my skin. My jaw clenches so hard it aches. I send my magic out, hunting for the source of the spell—but every attempt to direct it toward the stone slams into an invisible wall.
How?
Why?
My vision blurs. Darkness creeps in at the edges. If I black out, she wins. I’ll be expelled. I’ll fail Caryan.
Faye warned me Marryll was an evil wench.
I force myself to breathe and focus on the stone. And then I see it—a faint carving etched into the surface. A rune.
I don’t know much about runes, but I’ve seen them. On Caryan’s body. On my own skin now, thanks to him. Binding magic to flesh. Anchoring spells. My mother carved them into Caryan, amplifying him with power and darker talents.
I flick a glance at Marryll’s desk. If I had a brush, I could have painted a rune to block the spell. But her desk is blank. Shit. No pen. No brush. Nothing.
Shit.
Blackness surges again, bile burning my throat as I fight the urge to vomit. But suddenly the scent of lilac and woods hits my nose and I sense Riven somewhere nearby. He’s here. He’s watching. And the knowledge straightens my spine. Brings fire rushing through my veins that dispels the darkness.
Oh no.
I won’t give her the satisfaction of watching me collapse, of humiliating me in front of everyone. Maybe that makes me too fae—but I’ll fight.
I call to my lightning and guide it into the stone like a laser, carving the tiniest symbol imaginable, far smaller and cleaner than Marryll’s crude rune, likely hacked in with a blade. Then I draw the one rune I once spotted on Caryan from memory.
The one that blocks spells.
The magic of the rune snaps apart, clean and sudden, and the stone in my hand is just a stone again.
The pain vanishes instantly. And just like that, the convulsions stop too.
“How?” Marryll snarls, baring her fae canines as her upper lip peels back. “You shouldn’t have been able to break through it.”
I smirk. “Guess that’s why I never bothered attending your classes. Maybe you should come to mine sometime. I’ll teach you a thing or two—if I’m in the mood.”
I rise, showing no hint of how rattled I am.
Fuck that bitch. Hard.
When I look up, I spot Riven—Blair beside him, her aura blazing with fury. Only then do I notice Riven’s hand locked around her arm, holding her back. Otherwise, she’d probably have ripped Marryll’s throat out.
I flash Blair a wide grin. Pride floods her aura, and she relaxes just enough to grin back.
I turn my back on Marryll—
—and nearly slam into a thin, invisible wall of her air magic laced with wards she snaps into place in front of me. I sense the magic instantly and fling out my hand on instinct. With half a thought, I unravel the wards, rewrite them, and step through as if they were never there.
“Nice try,” I throw over my shoulder.
“Don’t you dare turn your back on me,” Marryll seethes.
I hear her rush after me—then she’s blown off her feet and slammed into the wall behind me by the ward I casually rewrote to hit her instead.
Guess I got my revenge after all. And gods, it tastes good.
The classroom freezes, wide-eyed, as Marryll groans and slumps to the floor.
“I take it I passed,” I say lightly and stroll out without looking back.