Page 23
Alina
SAMHAIN IS QUICKLY APPROACHING, AND it’s different and exciting seeing Coven Crest transform in the days leading up to the festival, which is to be held here on the grounds. The air has grown colder and smells of rich soil, decaying leaves, and woodsmoke from the fires burning nonstop in the castle and outbuildings. Even now, as I sit in the library with Maeve, the giant hearth crackles, sending out sparks and red-orange light, bathing us in warmth as we work on our papers.
I dip my quill into my inkwell, then tap off the excess ink. I’m writing a paper for Magical History and Ethics—exploring the morality of communicating with the dead—and it’s slow going. Even now, my gaze is drawn up from my parchment and across the library, to the closed double doors. I know Raelan is standing on the other side, my dutiful sentinel .
He’s not kissed me again, has not even given me the opportunity to do so. I dream of him most nights, though the types of dreams vary. Last night I dreamt of riding upon his back as he flew through the clouds high over the wilds of Elarwyn, the wind in my hair and sunlight on my skin. It was so thrilling I woke with my heart thundering in my chest. And I wished it were Poppy who’d dreamt it instead—maybe then I could hope it would one day come true, as so many of her dreams seem to.
Across from me at the small two-person table, Maeve tips her head and says, “You’re distracted today.”
I think to deny it, but I’ve learned Maeve is much too perceptive to be so easily tricked.
With a sigh, I set down my quill and prop my cheek on a fist. “I can’t seem to get Raelan out of my head. He’s driving me crazy.”
Maeve blinks her beautiful purple eyes and says simply, “I know. Do you wanna talk about it yet?”
One of my shoulders lifts in a shrug. “I’m not sure there’s anything to talk about.”
“Well...” Maeve sets her quill down and focuses in on me. “You could start with what happened that night you went to his room.”
My stomach flares with heat at the reminder of that night. I can still feel Raelan’s body against mine as he pressed me against the wall, my legs about his waist, our mouths hungering for each other. I haven’t told the girls any of this—though I’m not quite sure why. Lyra has certainly begged me enough. Perhaps it’s because I grew up without any siblings or even close friends. I learned at a young age to keep things to myself lest my parents and grandfather discover what I was up to and put a swift stop to it.
But maybe Maeve will understand. She won’t judge. And it would feel so good to finally get this secret off my chest.
I glance around at the other students dotted through the library, but no one is paying us any attention. They’re all busy working on their own papers or flipping through heavy school tomes. One boy is asleep in an armchair by the roaring fire, head tipped back and mouth hanging open. The librarian makes quick work of waking him, sending a dribble of water splashing across his face with a flick of her water magic. The students around him laugh as he jerks awake.
With a soft sigh, I look down at the table and whisper, “Raelan and I kissed.”
I’m not sure how I expect Maeve to react, but when I look up at her, she’s simply smiling that knowing smile. Her long hair is pulled up in a sleek ponytail, and it glistens in the firelight. “I had a feeling. You two have been different since that day.”
Of course she noticed.
She arches a dark brow. “But why’s that bothering you now?” Her knowing gaze quickly assesses me. “You’re on edge. I can feel the static in your energy field.”
A sigh slips from my lips. “I don’t understand what’s going on with him. He kisses me like he wants me, and then he pulls away just as suddenly and acts like nothing happened between us.” I shift to rub my temple with my fingers. A headache is starting to bloom behind my ears. “He’s driving me mad.”
Maeve hums thoughtfully. “I think it makes sense.”
My eyes narrow. “How?”
“He’s your knight.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m sure he can get in a lot of trouble for getting involved with you. He could probably lose his position on the guard, right?”
On second thought, maybe I should’ve talked to Lyra instead. She’d have at least sided with me—though I know Maeve speaks the truth. Raelan said as much that afternoon after leaving his family’s apartment.
“I don’t know... Maybe. But why kiss me at all if he’s only going to pull away? I mean, we’ve barely even spoken since the runeball game. It’s almost like we’re strangers again.”
The idea that Raelan may never kiss me again, may never trace his hands along my waist or breathe his warm breath over my neck, makes me ache deep in my chest. He’s right outside the library, yet I yearn for him as though I’ve not seen him in years. How is it that he can make me feel so lonely while standing right beside me?
“It’s probably a lot harder for him than it is for you. If you get caught, nothing bad will actually happen. But if he gets caught, he could lose everything he’s worked for.”
I let out a long sigh. Maeve’s right. And it makes me feel like a spoiled brat.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper, keeping my voice down as a few students walk past our table, purple-trimmed robes flapping. Fourth-years, then. “It would be best to keep our distance from each other, but...” Heat rises in my stomach. “But I want him so bad. I’ve never felt like this before, about anyone .”
Maeve’s smile slips, transforming into a thoughtful frown. “I don’t know. But it’s obvious he wants you too, even if you don’t see it. From my perspective, it’s impossible not to notice.” She reaches across the table and puts her hand atop mine. “Maybe you just need to give it time. And if you’re meant to be together, things will work out.”
My chest grows tight.
“And if we’re not?” I whisper.
This time Maeve doesn’t reply. She just squeezes my hand a little. And I’m not sure if it makes me feel better or worse.
“Well, I know what’ll make you feel better,” she says.
I arch a brow at her.
Still holding my hand, she pushes up from the table and tugs me to my feet. “Come on. Get your books and your knight.” The smile on her lips is playful. “We’re gonna go practice magic.”
DESPITE THE WIND AND THE bite to the air, I find myself standing on Coven Crest’s runeball field—though this time, there aren’t any players sprinting across the runes and calling out to one another, no cheers from the crowd in the stands. It’s just me, Maeve, and Lyra. Poppy was busy with a special study group and couldn’t join us .
Raelan watches us from a distance, leaning on the low metal fence encircling the field. When I glance at him, I find his eyes trained on the cloudy gray sky, and I wonder if he’s wishing he could spread his wings and fly away.
Maeve catches me looking his way and gives me one of her knowing eyebrow arches, and after that, I keep my focus on the arcane sphere.
It sits on the damp grass between us, a simple ball made of some sort of firm material, waiting to be sent flying with a burst of magic or someone’s well-aimed kick. None of us have touched it yet.
“So, what are we doing here, exactly?” I ask, reaching up to pull my long hair into a ponytail so it’ll stay out of my face.
“Practicing our magic,” Maeve states simply with a shrug of her shoulders. Then her violet eyes flash. “And having some fun.” She flicks her wrist, and a gust of wind whips around the arcane sphere, sending it up into the air. “The goal is to keep the arcane sphere in the air using nothing but our magic.”
The three of us tilt our heads up to look at it. And as it starts to plummet back toward the field, a little burst of excitement zips through my veins. This should be fun.
I hold my hand out, intending to strike it to keep it aloft with a burst of frost magic, but Lyra beats me to it. A stream of fire streaks from her palm, setting the sphere alight and knocking it flying.
Maeve’s eyes meet mine. “Well?” she says, gesturing across the field. “Aren’t you going to get it? ”
Without wasting another moment, I break into a run, keeping my eye on the sphere as it slows and starts to fall back toward me. Legs still pumping beneath me, I yell back, “Damn you, Lyra!”
Behind me, Lyra cackles.
As the sphere falls, I hold up my hands and call on my magic. Frost swirls across my palms, cold like the first kiss of winter. I focus, eyes locked on the sphere. Then I send my magic shooting toward the sphere, intending to knock it up into the air and back toward Maeve.
But instead, I hit it much too hard, my magic swirling out of my hands in uncontained bursts, and the arcane sphere zooms into the air and toward the far end of the field.
Slowing my pace and gasping for air, I let out a groan.
“Guess you haven’t been listening in Professor Stone’s class!” Lyra yells, her voice and laughter carrying across the runeball field. “You’re supposed to ground yourself first, Miss Ravenscroft!”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, stepping back into a slow jog to go retrieve the sphere from where it landed on the other side of the field.
Lyra and I both have trouble containing our elemental magic, but at least mine doesn’t have the potential to set our dorm room aflame. Which she has certainly almost done—on multiple occasions now.
When I finally reach the other end of the field, I find the sphere has already been picked up for me, and the student who fetched it stands alongside the field, tossing it from hand to hand .
“Tristan,” I say, mouth pulling into a smile.
“Thought that was you.” He laughs and tosses the sphere again, his dark eyes tracking its movement before flicking back to me. “You plan on trying out for a runeball team?”
“Definitely not.” I roll my eyes and laugh. “Just fooling around.” A few strands of hair have come loose from my ponytail, and I reach up to push them behind my ear. “Do you... Do you wanna play?”
Tristan looks down at the sphere, then back up at me. “Nah. Afraid I’m not very good at my magic yet.” He holds out a hand, and while it appears he’s attempting to bring a flame into his palm, all he’s successful at producing is a wisp of smoke.
My lips quirk up on one side.
Tristan notices. “Are you... laughing at me, Your Highness?” He narrows his eyes and tips his head, but his expression struggles to remain serious.
“No!” I hold out my hands. “I’m not. I swear.”
He continues to stare at me. His gaze sharpens.
“Okay, yes, I was. But just a little.”
“I had no idea our princess was so cruel,” he mumbles, as if to himself. “I’ll have to let everyone know what a bully you are.”
I groan and cant my head at him. “Please don’t. I have a hard-enough time making friends around here as it is.”
“Hmm. Can’t imagine why that might be...” Tristan’s gaze flicks over my shoulder.
And suddenly, I feel heat on my back. When I turn, I spot Raelan staring at us from where he still stands beside the fence encircling the field. He’s glaring, lips pulled into a severe frown, hands fisted at his sides. When he catches my eye, he arches a brow slowly.
And if I were younger and just slightly less mature than I am now, I might stick my tongue out at him.
“Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your game.”
I turn back around to face Tristan. “Are you sure? It’s all in good fun. Goddess knows I sure need to practice my magic. It listens about as well as a school of prairie fish.”
His smile is soft and friendly. A crisp autumn breeze sends his brown hair swaying about his eyes. “I’m sure. Now, whose turn is it?”
“Maeve’s. And she’s much too good at this game, so don’t go easy on her.”
“Oh yeah?” With a little smirk, Tristan lifts the sphere over his head and yells, “Maeve, go long!” Then he hurls the arcane sphere across the field with surprising strength and a little bit of air magic, sending Maeve sprinting after it, her long-legged strides chewing up the grassy field.
I watch her for a moment, impressed by her speed and agility, and my eyebrows shoot up when she blasts the sphere with a small burst of electricity—storm witches and their lightning—and sends it right back up into the sky so Lyra has to scurry after it.
“Well, I’m off.” Tristan steps back from the fence, his schoolbag thumping against his hip. “But don’t worry too much about your frost magic.” The look he gives me is warm, comforting. “You’ll master it eventually. Just takes time.”
I arch an eyebrow at him and smile. “Speaking from experience? ”
In answer, he holds out a hand, and this time he’s able to bring a small flame into his palm. It sends a bit of light dancing across his skin, shimmying in the breeze. After a few moments, Tristan closes his hand around the flame, extinguishing its heat and light. “Yeah,” he says, “something like that...”
“Alina!” Lyra yells. “Come on!”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Fire witches. Are they always so impatient?”
“In my experience,” Tristan calls out as he heads back toward the castle, “yes!”
“What’d he say about fire witches?” Lyra yells.
But I just shake my head and start back across the field. Raelan’s gaze follows me, but I don’t meet his eyes. Instead, I send out another little blast of frost magic, and this time, it sends the arcane sphere arcing beautifully into the sky, just like I intended for it to.
Just takes time , I think, letting a smile stretch across my face.
I glance back over my shoulder, searching for Tristan, but he’s already gone, with nothing but fallen leaves skittering across the cobblestones in his wake.
Table of Contents
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- Page 19
- Page 20
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- Page 22
- Page 23 (Reading here)
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