Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Classes begin on the last warm day of summer, and it’s strange that Cassian and Simon aren’t here to walk me to my first class, Advanced Casting.
Still, Luca walked me to class this morning, stealing a kiss before sending me into Professor McNamara’s classroom.
With Alan Cadigan gone from Fairhaven Academy, Professor McNamara has taken over his advanced classes in addition to the Intermediate Casting class I had with him part of last semester.
I’m glad to have a class with him again.
His command of the classroom and his instruction are good.
Not as good as Ian’s, but I might be a bit biased where my imperious alpha is concerned.
I’ve read ahead in our textbook and even practiced some of the spells with Ian, mastering them quickly; casting has been one of my strengths since Ian unlocked my magic.
“Welcome, welcome,” he says, tapping his scribe on his desk and calling the class to order just as Alyssa slides in next to me with a sheepish grin.
“It’s nice to see your familiar faces again this term.
This semester, we’ll cover more advanced spells than you’ve cast previously, all building on the foundations you’ve built in Introduction to Casting and Intermediate Casting.
I have the deepest belief that you’ll all succeed in this class. Let’s get down to work!”
“So glad we have Professor McNamara and not Cadigan,” Alyssa mutters.
As am I. Cadigan never liked me, never thought I was good enough for Ian.
That, I could have forgiven, but he was also working for Radcliffe on developing the spell to power the collars.
He wished for the collared omegas on All Saints’ Eve to take me down despite pretending to protect our classroom.
He was the resistance mole, and, most grievously, he was the alpha who hexed Ian with an agonia spell so strong it nearly killed him.
So far, I’ve read nothing but good intentions from Professor McNamara. It’s a tremendous relief.
“You and me both,” I whisper, as I crack a new notebook open and uncap my pen.
Sigils scrawl across the board in crumbly white chalk, and I work quickly to scribble them down, though I’ve already learned them. I’m determined to do well in all of my classes this semester.
“Lunch?” Alyssa asks as we pack our book bags after class.
“We’ll join you in a moment,” Marcus cuts in.
Alyssa gives me a wide-eyed stare, her lips pursed so she doesn’t burst into a grin. “Sure. I’ll save you both seats.”
Marcus follows me from the classroom and then takes my hand, stealing me away into an empty hallway.
He presses me against the wall, and he tilts my chin up with one finger, drawing me into our first stolen kiss of the term.
I’m certain it won’t be the last. He kisses me until I’m breathless, until my lips are reddened and my hair mussed, then quickly puts me to rights again, smoothing my tousled hair.
He presses a quick kiss to my forehead and then asks, “Lunch?” as though he hadn’t just rocked my world with a kiss.
We meet Alyssa, Darika, Luca, Bitsy, Ellie, and their honor guards at our usual table in the cafeteria after grabbing trays of food.
“So, Casting Theory sucks ass,” Bitsy groans.
“It wouldn’t suck if you’d just study for once,” Ellie mutters.
“I don’t know how to study, Bells. I’m here to look pretty and stir shit up, not to learn the theory behind casting.”
“And you’re doing admirably on both fronts,” Ellie assures her. “Ugh, I guess I’m going to have to whip your ass into gear if you have any chance of passing.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Bitsy replies with a cheeky grin. “I had no idea you were into whipping, Ells.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly sexy.”
“Is it really that bad?” Alyssa cuts in. “What do Junie and I have to look forward to or dread next year?”
Ellie rolls her eyes. “No, it’s not bad at all. It’s all book learning and easy enough if you study, which I know you will.”
“We have our first theory class tomorrow,” I remind Alyssa. “Spellcrafting Theory with Professor Grafton. How is he?”
“Tough,” Bitsy groans.
“But fair,” Ellie puts in. “I’m guessing you have him for Advanced Spellcrafting too? The classes go hand in hand. You’re going to learn more about transmutation circles than you ever wanted to.”
“I already have,” Alyssa mutters.
“We’ll do fine,” I assure her. “We can study together.”
“Advanced Spellcrafting will be the most difficult magic you’ve learned in your time here at Fairhaven,” Professor Grafton says by way of introduction.
“You’ll be using more intricate transmutation circles, and you’ll be expected to memorize them all.
You’ll do well in my classes if you pay close attention in Spellcrafting Theory and do the assigned readings.
Everything you learn in my theory class will aid you in Advanced Spellcrafting.
You’ll be drawing on casting mechanics, plus words of power.
Difficult magic. If you struggle—and you likely will—come to me immediately, and we’ll resolve your challenges.
I take no issue with explaining myself more than once; indeed, many of my former students have dropped in for brief tutoring sessions.
Don’t be afraid to take advantage of my office hours. ”
Alyssa grips her pencil so tightly it nearly snaps.
Thank the saints I read ahead in this class, too.
In Cadigan’s absence, Professor Hayes has taken over teaching Magical Theory. I’m glad to have him in another class this year after having him for Foundations in Magic and Applications of Magic in previous years.
“Miss Rose,” he says after Marcus and I step into the classroom after another earth-shattering kiss. Saints, I hope I’m not blushing. “Good to see you. I trust you had a pleasant summer. Well, as pleasant as possible given recent events. Regardless, I’m glad to have you in class once more.”
I thank him and take my seat, noticing that the beta professor looks a bit ragged.
Nevertheless, he brings his usual energy to our class.
The class itself is a bit like Foundations, but a much deeper dive into how the elements of magic work together to create spells.
It lacks the biological component of Foundations, and I’m grateful for that.
Learning about the number of omegas and betas killed by having their maginaluses removed was eye-opening and harrowing.
And now, omegas are undergoing the same horrors at my father’s hands. Saints, I have to read him. Have to hope that all my training with Marcus will bear fruit and that I’ll even be able to read him.
I send a prayer up to the saints. Omega lives depend on my ability to read my father.
It’s my Friday class I dread. Magical Medicinals, taught by Redwood Rose, my father, who has no business teaching young mages anything. I’m silent on the drive to campus, and Marcus doesn’t push. He knows where my thoughts have strayed to.
He knows how afraid I am of my father and his experiments.
When we park in the parking lot near the Omega Residences, he closes the space between us, dropping his forehead to mine.
He nuzzles my nose with his, breathing in my scent just as I draw his into my lungs.
“It’s going to be all right,” he promises.
I want so desperately to believe him, but he doesn’t know my father like I do.
To drive his point home, he gives me a light kiss, no more than a quick capturing of lips, stroking my cheek and marking me with his scent.
It’s like a winter breeze blowing over my cheek, and the scent of pine in my nose slows my racing pulse.
“I promise I will always keep you safe, Juniper. Always.”
I swallow hard around the lump in my throat. If only Marcus knew how his kisses gave me courage, that his touch strengthens me when I’m frightened. He will keep me safe, in more ways than he knows.
I grab him and kiss him back. For courage and strength.
“Good afternoon, class. I’m Professor Rose, and I’ll be your instructor for Magical Medicinals—the fusion of magic and science that’s making the world a better, healthier place.
This blend of scientific knowledge and practical spellwork makes doctors and healers better at fighting diseases.
It speeds our healing when we’re injured and draws as much on magic as it does science. Let us begin.”
He starts his lecture, and I diligently take down notes, determined to give him nothing. Not fear, not a demure mask. Nothing.
We spend the second half of class looking at slides of potions through powerful magic-enabled microscopes, noting the composition of the potions we examine.
My father comes by the table I’m sharing with Alyssa, and his thoughts bombard me.
He envisions me fighting against Soldiers in a hospital gown, a needle puncturing my neck. My body on a metal slab table.
I look up quickly with a jerk of my head, my eyes landing on my father’s. They’re blue, like mine. Our coloring couldn’t be more similar. There’s no question that I’m his daughter. The daughter of a monster. A monster who wants to see me laid out on a surgical table, at his mercy.
“Is there a problem, Miss Rose?” he asks archly.
“Nothing, sir,” I reply, notching my chin up.
I can’t show any fear in front of this man, this predator.
It’s what he expects: a weak, submissive omega, baring her neck to a strong, dominant alpha.
I’ll never bare my neck to my father, not ever again.
He can expect me to be meek and demure as much as he wants; I’ll never bow to him again.
I may be the Rose omega, but I have thorns, damn it, and I’m not afraid to use them.