Page 23 of Traveler (Soulbound #1)

Aly

When I ge t to the training grounds for defensive magic, I’m shitting my pants. The morning, I had with Barrett is unfortunately not helping. I mean can barely handle my basics courses and now I have to sit here and try and defend myself from people who have been doing this for years.

I hover near the entrance, my boots scuffing the sand-strewn floor. Aunt Genevieve— don’t call her that, she’s “Instructor James” here —stands at the center, her arms crossed like she’s already disappointed in me. Which, fair. I’ve been late to three classes this week.

“You’re staring at the ground like it’s going to swallow you,” she says, her voice slicing through the silence. “Stand like you mean to survive the hour.”

I straighten, shoulders back, chin up. Survival posture . Right.

She nods once, sharp. “Today, you learn to smother fire with water. Without flooding the arena.”

“Cool. Love a good challenge.”

Her eyebrow twitches. Sarcasm is not part of the curriculum.

Before I can ask if we’re starting with theory or, I don’t know, not being set on fire , the doors slam open.

Carion strolls in, his academy jacket slung over one shoulder, that infuriating smirk already locked in place. “Firefly. Ready to cry yet?”

Genevieve cuts him a glare. “You’re here to spar, not provoke her.”

“Can’t I multitask?”

I clench my jaw. Asshole . The bond between us hums low in my gut, a persistent itch I can’t scratch. Not that I’d ever admit it.

Genevieve flicks her wrist, and a ring of braziers ignite around us, flames licking hungrily at the air. “Aly, contain his attacks. Carion, try not to maim her.”

“No promises,” he says, rolling up his sleeves.

First rule of defensive magic: Don’t panic .

I panic.

Carion flicks a ribbon of fire at me, lazy and precise. I slap my hands out, yanking moisture from the air. The water forms a wobbly wall just in time—the flames hit it with a hiss, steam scalding my cheeks.

“Cute,” he drawls. “Now hold it.”

The fire surges, hotter, thicker. My water shield trembles. Droplets bead down my arms, my magic fraying at the edges.

“Focus,” Genevieve snaps. “ Shape it. Don’t just throw it.”

Easy for her to say . Sweat drips into my eyes. I grit my teeth, imagining the water thickening, hardening—

The shield collapses.

Fire licks up my boots. I yelp, stomping wildly.

Carion laughs. “Dance for me, Firefly.”

Genevieve extinguishes the flames with a wave. “Again.”

By the fifth round, my tunic is soaked, my pride drowning in a puddle of failure. Carion hasn’t even broken a sweat.

“You’re pulling from the air,” Genevieve says, circling me. “Pull from the ground. The deeper reserves.”

“Ground’s dry ,” I pant.

“Then dig deeper.”

Carion cracks his knuckles. “Or quit. My patience is evaporating faster than your puddles.”

I flip him off.

His next fire strike is a spiraling lance, aimed straight at my chest. I drop to my knees, slamming my palms into the sand. Deeper .

The earth groans. A geyser of water erupts beneath me, swallowing the flames in a roaring tidal wave.

Carion staggers back, soaked.

Genevieve freezes.

The water hangs in the air, trembling, before crashing down in a deluge.

Silence.

Carion wipes his face, his smirk finally gone. “You’re insane.”

“You’re welcome,” I wheeze.

Genevieve steps forward, her expression unreadable. “That was reckless.”

“But it worked.”

“It was stupid ,” Carion snarls, shaking water from his hair. “You could’ve collapsed the whole arena pulling from the aquifers.”

“But I didn’t.”

He steps closer, eyes blazing. “You don’t get it. This isn’t a game. One wrong pull and you’ll drain the land dry, or worse—”

“Enough.” Genevieve’s voice cracks like a whip. “Aly, you’ll practice controlled pulls. Carion, you will stop antagonizing her.”

“But—”

“Out. Both of you.”

Carion shoves past me in the hallway, his shoulder clipping mine. “You’re going to get someone killed.”

I whirl on him. “Says the guy who tried to barbecue me!”

“I was holding back!”

“Could’ve fooled me!”

He leans in, his breath hot on my face. “You think I want this bond? You think I want to be tied to a walking disaster?”

The words sting. Yes . No . I don’t know .

I shove him. “Newsflash—I didn’t ask for this either! But here we are. So, either help me not die, or get out of my way!”

His jaw tightens. For a second, I think he’ll walk.

Then he grabs my wrist, dragging me toward the training grounds.

“Where are we—?”

“You want to learn control?” He yanks open the doors, sunlight spilling over the sand. “Then stop whining and listen .”