Chapter 17
Seventeen
Rose
By midnight, I’m trudging through the woods, snow crunching under my boots.
I arrived early on purpose, needing time to clear my head before facing Ash.
The day had been a bust, another four hours in the library yielded nothing useful about anchoring spirits or stopping them from fading.
Just more disturbing illustrations and warnings about not messing with the dead.
So much for getting stronger. So much for saving anyone.
Drake had managed to stay with me for all of seven minutes that morning before blinking out like a candle.
Every time he fades, it takes longer for him to come back, and every time I see him, it’s like a little less is left.
The books say that’s how it works, with unfinished business or not, ghosts bleed into nothing, given enough time.
I keep walking, my hands shoved in my pockets, eyes on the ground so I don’t trip over a root and faceplant. If I let myself think about Drake too long, I’ll start to spiral, and there’s no time for that when Ash is probably already lurking somewhere.
The forest is silent as always. It’s like a dead zone, and I know it has something to do with the wards that protect the academy.
I pull my coat tighter to keep out the cold.
I find a fallen log and brush the snow off before sitting.
The cold seeps through my jeans, but I barely notice, I’m still so stuck in my head.
When Ash steps into the clearing, I don’t hear him coming. He just appears, melting out of the shadows like he’s one of them.
“You’re early.” His voice carries in the stillness. He looks different tonight, tense. His usual mask of cool indifference is slipping.
I stand, brushing snow off my pants. “Thought I’d get a head start on freezing to death.”
He doesn’t smile. “How’s your ghost?”
The question catches me off guard. “How did you—”
“I can feel him through you.” Ash taps his own arm where my mark would be. “The connection. He pulls on your magic when he’s with you.”
I hadn’t realized. “Can you feel everything single thing I feel?”
His eyes meet mine. “Mostly the strongest emotions. Fear. Pain.” A pause. “Lust.”
My cheeks are red-hot despite the cold. “That’s invasive.”
“That’s magic.” He steps closer. “Tonight we focus on defense. Jasmine’s watching you, and you need to be prepared.”
“For what?”
“For anything.” His voice is grim. “She’s not like Helena. She doesn’t play by rules.”
“No shit. She killed her sister in front of me.”
“She’s capable of far worse.”
“Worse than murdering her own sister?”
“There’s a reason they locked her away, Rose.”
“So it’s true. Jasmine Wickersly was imprisoned by her own family.”
Ash circles me. “The Wickersly family history is not where your focus should be right now.”
He stops behind me, and I can feel how close he’s standing. I wait, but he doesn’t touch me. I cross my arms, but I don’t move either.
“You have to learn to shield yourself. Not just physically.” He raises a hand, and I feel the magic gather, pressure building like a mild headache. The next second, a blast of invisible force slams into me, knocking me off balance. I stagger, but don’t fall.
Ash doesn’t stop. He sends another pulse that hits my chest, making my lungs seize up. “Stop—” I gasp, but the next one comes faster, a punch to the gut, doubling me over.
“Jasmine won’t give you a warning,” Ash says. “She’ll hit you when you’re weakest, when you’re distracted, when you’re with someone you care about.” He doesn’t name names, but I know that’s what he means.
For the next hour, he puts me through the magical equivalent of basic training. How to create barriers, how to deflect energy, how to sense an attack before it lands. It’s exhausting, draining, but each time I succeed, the mark on my arm glows brighter.
“Again,” Ash commands after I’ve barely blocked a bolt of dark energy he sent my way. “Faster this time.”
“I’m trying.” I’m out of breath.
“Not hard enough.” He hurls another blast at me, this one stronger. I throw up a hasty shield, but it shatters on impact, and the residual force knocks me backward. I land hard on my ass in the snow, wincing.
Ash is at my side in an instant, his hand extended. “Get up.”
I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. His grip is firm, warm despite the cold air, and he doesn’t let go immediately. We stand there, too close, his eyes searching mine for something. The mark on my arm throbs in time with my heartbeat.
“You need to stop thinking,” he says finally, still holding my hand. “Magic isn’t intellectual. It’s instinct. Remember who you are. Where your power comes from.”
“Easy for you to say.” I pull away, rubbing my hands together to warm them. “You’ve had your whole life to practice.”
“Excuses won’t save you if you’re being attacked.” He steps back, giving me space. “Stop fighting it. Let it come naturally.”
“Nothing about this is natural.”
“It is for you.” He raises his hand again, forming a ball of energy that gives off a low vibration. “Ready?”
This time when he throws the energy, I don’t think. I just react, throwing my hands up. Gold light flows up my legs, up my torso, down my arms, and erupts from my hands, forming a dome around me. Ash’s magic hits it and scatters, disintegrating into nothing.
He looks genuinely surprised. “Good.”
The shield holds, rippling with golden light. I can feel it drawing from everywhere, from the source of magic that Ash says my bloodline can tap into. It feels... right. Like I’ve been doing this my whole life.
“Hold it,” Ash commands. He reaches out, touching the shield with his fingertips. Where he touches, the gold darkens to amber. “Fascinating.”
I’m breathing hard, but the shield stays strong. “What is?”
“Your magic. It responds to mine.” He trails his fingers across the dome, and the sensation feels weirdly intimate, like he’s touching my skin. “Most witches’ magic repels others. Yours adapts.”
The shield finally flickers and fades. I drop my arms suddenly exhausted. “Is that bad?”
“It’s strange.” Ash studies me with new interest.
We take a break, sitting on the fallen log. I’m too tired to keep my guard up, so I ask the question that’s been burning in my mind.
“What does she want with me?” I turn to face him. “And don’t give me some half-answer. I deserve to know.”
Ash is quiet for a long moment, watching the snow fall. Finally, he says, “I don’t know for certain. But what I do know is that Jasmine believes she can consume other witches’ power. Not just use it, like through the Accord, but actually absorb it into herself.”
A chill runs down my spine. “How?”
“There are rumors.” His voice is flat. “That’s why they locked her away.”
I swallow hard. “And she wants to do that to me?”
“She wants your bloodline’s connection to natural magic.” Ash looks at me directly. “Your power is different, Rose. It comes straight from the source. Most witches need spells, rituals, or objects to channel power. You just have it, the magic. No ritual or spell required.”
“So why are you helping me?” I search his face for answers.
Annoyance flashes across his face. “Who says I’m helping you?” He stands abruptly. “Maybe I have my own plans for your power.”
“At least you’re honest about being a dickbag.” I stand too, facing him. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re teaching me to defend myself.”
Ash steps closer, close enough that I have to tip my head back to meet his eyes. “Maybe I don’t like anyone else getting what’s mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice should repulse me. Instead, it sends a dangerous thrill through my body. The mark burns, sensing my reaction. Ash smirks, and I know he can feel exactly how my body responds.
“I’m not yours.” My voice lacks conviction.
“The mark says otherwise.” His hand comes up to brush a snowflake from my cheek.
I step back, needing distance. “Let’s get back to training.”
We resume, but something has shifted between us.
Our magic responds differently now, mingling together when it meets, rather than repelling.
When my shield collides with his energy, the resulting sparks form intricate patterns in the air, beautiful and ephemeral, like the northern lights shimmering in the space between our bodies.
“You’re getting better,” he observes after an hour of this. “But it’s not enough.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“It’s not about confidence.” Ash runs a hand through his hair, damp from the snow. “It’s about reality. Jasmine is unhinged and powerful. Even I’m careful around her.”
“So what do I do?”
“Keep training. Keep harnessing your power.” He pauses. “And trust no one completely.”
“Not even you?”
His smile is humorless. “Especially not me.”