Chapter 13
Taera
My heart threatens to pound out of my chest. Without thinking, I flatten myself to the mirrored wall behind me.
The magician in the center flips glossy black hair over her shoulder, her amber eyes positively feline.
I glance around the hallway, avoiding her unblinking eyes. The three of them are blocking the only way out. I might be able to sprint past them, but I’m already tired and they have me surrounded.
“You’re a skittish little creature.” The catlike one in the center peers at me.
I don’t look at her. I have to keep my head clear.
“Don’t scare her or she won’t play.” The one on the left picks at her nails—no, claws. A bright orange bob frames a pretty, pouting face that shimmers with orange fur. My breath hitches.
“But that’s the fun part.”
The third magician doesn’t follow the feline trend. Her white locks and thin limbs are the most normal I’ve seen today, despite her cloying beauty. She shrugs, crosses her bony arms, and mutters, “Whatever, Jezebel.”
“We rarely get fresh blood.” The scary one in the middle—Jezebel—watches me like prey. “Where are you going?”
Can they tell I’m not a magician? I’m a terrible liar, so the less I say, the better. But the three of them seem to expect me to speak.
I clear my throat. “I was just… leaving.”
“Aww, you lost?” Jezebel coos. “First year?”
“What’s with her face?” Orange-fur narrows her eyes, and I’m exceptionally conscious of my plain appearance, next to them. Even after rinsing my face, the grime of the desert still coats me. I feel hot and uncomfortable beneath their stares.
“Is that actual dirt?” The white-haired one gawks.
“Maybe she’s a naturalist,” the orange one exclaims.
“Shut up, Charlotte,” Jezebel mutters. “She’s not naked.”
“What’s she wearing though?” Charlotte reaches out her claws to the black silk binding my torso.
“Careful, she could be a conduit,” Jezebel says to Charlotte. She flicks those amber eyes back to me. “Or are you a source?”
I curse Nikolai for not telling me what that word means. They’re all waiting, edging closer.
“I’m a source,” I say, praying it’s the right answer. It’s what Nikolai said, after all.
Jezebel frowns.
The white-haired one rolls her eyes. “Just another conduit-catcher.”
“With that face?” Charlotte scrunches her nose.
“How did you get here?” Jezebel demands. “This is Intermediate II.”
“I—” I scramble for what to say.
“Can I touch it?” Charlotte steps closer. “It looks so real.”
I try to worm away, but there’s nowhere to go except further into the corner. Still, I retreat, remembering the jolting sensation when the master touched me this morning.
“Don’t be an idiot, Char,” Jezebel says.
“My face isn’t—” Isn’t what… fake like theirs? That will go over well.
“But she looks…” Charlotte murmurs. She’s still staring at me like I’m a two-headed snake.
“I chose it myself.” The deep, velvet voice behind me makes me jump.
The wall I’m leaning against disappears, and I stumble against empty air, only for a warm hand to land on the center of my back and steady me. I freeze. When I drag my gaze up to those emerald eyes—flawless face, cruel smile—my stomach drops.
“Niko!” Jezebel unleashes a devastating smile.
“Do you like it?” Nikolai murmurs, low and seductive. I shiver, but he treats me as though I’m not even here. As though his hand isn’t on my back.
“Exquisite attention to detail,” Jezebel purrs. “As always.”
He chuckles, then turns his heart-stopping smile on me. His eyes widen.
“Are you wearing my bedsheets?”