by Theresa Kay
“Nope.”
Isobel shakes her head. “Well, first of all, the Coven Council, at least in the form you know it where the seats are inherited rather than elected, is mostly an American thing. The closest thing you could compare it to in the history lessons you’ve had so far is the ancient Roman Senate.”
“So, the Coven Council isn’t a group that represents the interests of all witches so much as a group that represents the interests of the rich ones,” I say.
“Correct,” says Isobel. Why am I not surprised? “And there’s also the fact that every representative can trace their lineage to at least the Revolutionary War if not earlier. The Coven Council is a very old organization.”
“But Bernadette St. James is clearly British,” I say. “And not American Revolution Era British.”
Isobel turns to Adrian.
He shrugs. “I don’t know the details, but the rumor is that the St. James family finances were in trouble, which is why Allister was supposed to marry Helen. Even that match would have been outside the norm since your grandparents immigrated to the US from Greece. I guess the idea of tying a powerful OSA family to a powerful Coven Council family was too tempting to resist for one or both parties. When that fell through, Bernadette somehow managed to weasel her way in. Her family, the Winthrops, are titled aristocracy in Britain with even more money than the Andras family. I imagine part of the deal was that Bernadette would get the St. James seat on the Coven Council. In essence, the Winthrops purchased the seat by marrying off their daughter to Allister St. James.”
I drag a hand over my face. “Ugh. Shifter politics are nowhere near this convoluted.”
They both laugh.
“Returning to my original point,” says Adrian. “The Coven Council is powerful, but OSA is bigger and more powerful. The Coven Council wouldn’t want to upset the balance by coming after you when you’re a member of the Andras family, even if they think you’re only some third cousin or something.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I say. “How do you know all this?”
“My family is also heavily involved with OSA, mostly in research and development. You know those fancy wards that protect the school and zap cell phones? Those were specially created by my paternal grandfather. They’re actually a combination of a spell and four different kinds of wards woven together. All the academies have them now,” says Adrian.
Isobel’s eyes go wide, a hungry gleam to them. “I didn’t realize you were related to Fabian Dumont. We’re studying the spell portion of the barrier right now, and it’s absolutely fascinating.”
Adrian gives her a pained smile. “And if my family had anything to do with me, I’d happily introduce you.”
“No worries,” says Isobel. “I find the spell fascinating, not the caster. He’s rumored to be rather . . .”
“Stuck up? Elitist? A complete asshole?” Adrian nods. “All true.”
The three of us share a laugh.
“This conversation does give me an idea for Selene though.” Adrian thinks for a moment, tapping his chin with one finger. “Nikolas hosts a holiday party every year at the Andras estate. It would be a good way to meet them without, you know, actually meeting them and announcing who you are.”
“You mean crash the party?” I ask.
“Well, they aren’t going to send me an invite,” he replies. “But I might be able to ask my brother the next time I have access to a phone. He isn’t quite as much of an ass as the rest of my family and could maybe take you as a plus one.” He eyes my outfit of yoga pants and a t-shirt. “The party would be black tie, though.”
“I did most—okay pretty much all—of the illusion work for Selene’s banquet outfit. On my own, my illusion work is almost perfect,” says Isobel. “I can create something for her no problem.”
“That won’t work. She’ll need an actual dress.” A mischievous glint enters his eyes. “But just because my family doesn’t have much to do with me doesn’t mean I don’t have the use of their money. I’ll order something and have it delivered to your room.”
“It better have plenty of coverage,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.
He pouts out his lower lip. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Isobel rolls her eyes and nudges him with her elbow.
“What are the chances your brother can get me into that party?” I ask.
“About fifty-fifty,” says Adrian. He glances out the large window that overlooks the quad. “And I’d need to get off campus for a phone. The—”
“I could take you,” says Tristan from somewhere behind me.
Isobel and Adrian both send me wide-eyed looks as Tristan steps up to our table.
“Sorry. I overheard and . . . Well, I already have an invitation, and I could take you as my plus one.” Tristan stares down at his hands. “I’d like for us to . . . I don’t know. Be friends? And I hate attending these things alone.” He sighs. “I know I’ve been an asshole. I mean, no one’s completely blameless here, but I could have been more understanding. Things are just . . . I know I’ve said it before, but I’m sorry. Again.”
Huh?
Where is this all coming from?
I blink at him as my confused brain puts enough words together to respond. “Okay. I’d love to go with you. Thanks.”
I have to resist the urge to smack myself in the forehead. I’d love to? This isn’t a date. He’s doing me a favor.
If Tristan notices my internal freak out, he doesn’t show it. He glances at the floor before meeting my gaze with a soft smile on his lips. “You’re welcome.”
Tristan and I stare at each other a couple seconds before Adrian claps his hands.
“Now that we’ve got that settled, the three of us still have another chapter to go over,” he says.
An awkward silence falls over our group, and Tristan shuffles his feet. “Well, I guess I’ll—”
“Would you like to join us?” asks Isobel. “If you can believe it, Selene’s helping us with sigils to prepare for the entry test.”
“Tristan’s probably busy with his own studying,” I say. “Besides, he won’t have to take the entry test. The top fifty students are in automatically.”
Isobel inhales sharply, and Tristan’s jaw tenses.
What’s going on? What am I missing? I share a look with Adrian, and he shrugs.
Addressing the words to his feet, Tristan says, “I bombed a couple quizzes in Feng’s class last week.”
What the hell? Mrs. Feng teaches the Advanced Spellcasting class that Isobel is in. Tristan must be in the same class. For him to do poorly on not one but two quizzes is . . . disconcerting. And if Isobel is suggesting he needs to practice for the entry test, does that mean he’s not even in the top fifty anymore? I can’t help the shocked noise that comes from my mouth.
“How . . .” I’m not sure what question I want to ask.
Adrian springs into motion, throwing an arm over Tristan’s shoulders. “No worries. Welcome to the land of mediocrity, roomie. You’ll like it here. We have cookies.”
“Or at least stale potato chips,” says Isobel.
Tristan cracks a smile. “Yeah. I’ll join you guys. Thanks.”
He sits down in the chair beside me, his arm brushing against mine, and the four of us spend the rest of the evening studying, Tristan just as shocked as my other friends at how skilled I am when it comes to sigils. Tristan and I are still a long way from that comfortable sort-of friendship on the verge of more we were at before that night at his parent’s house, but for the first time since I think there’s hope we could find our way back there.
The following day is Saturday, and since I spent all last week sitting on my ass with my textbooks in PE instead of actually practicing or learning anything, Isobel decides to drag me out of bed early to try and get some actual spell practice in. Spells is her concentration area, and we’ve worked well together on other subjects, so her help might be exactly what I need to finally get a handle on casting.
She’s also recruited Adrian in this endeavor, but other than him, we’re alone out here. All the better, considering I’m sure to embarrass myself somehow.
“So why are we out here at the ass crack of dawn again?” asks Adrian, covering a yawn with one hand.
“Between the two of us, we’re going to get Selene’s spellwork under control,” says Isobel.
Adrian cocks his head to the side, clearly skeptical of Isobel’s overly optimistic statement. “Really? I don’t know if I’m qualified for that.” He slides his gaze to me and smirks. “But I suppose as long as I’m not here for target practice, I’m down.”
I shake my head. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Nope,” he says, grinning.
Isobel claps her hands, going into teacher mode. “First, tell me again what happens when you try to cast.”
“I’ve always struggled with spells. Sure, I’m awful at wards, but I understand them. Mostly. But spells have never seemed to work right for me. I either pull too much magic or not enough or I don’t shape it right or my intention isn’t right or . . . I don’t know. I’m pretty sure my biggest problem is pulling too much magic, and I’m having more trouble controlling that magic since Bernadette’s spell hit me.”
Isobel nods. “I remember something about you blasting a hole in the quad when you were trying to do your spells homework last quarter.”
“That was you?” Adrian laughs. “The groundskeeper thought for sure we had a giant groundhog infestation.”
I roll my eyes. “Laugh it up. Maybe I will use you as target practice.”
Isobel bites at her lower lip. “That time on the quad you mentioned not being able to get rid of the magic except for in PE when you were throwing energy balls.”
“Yeah, and you said if I was having trouble with spells, then it should be that I’m not able to pull enough magic, but I apparently have the opposite problem,” I say.
Adrian glances back and forth between us. “That sounds an awful lot like what might happen to a witch whose powers were awakened early and didn’t have a focus, like whatever pathway your magic is supposed to take to form a spell is throttled or whatever, so unless you send a big blast of magic through it, you can’t cast. Could be an unexpected effect of the binding spell.”
“Or even an expected one,” says Isobel. “The truth of it is that we can’t know for sure what that spell was meant to do without knowing who placed it or why. I can’t help but think this is all tied together somehow. And I’m not supposed to be looking into it anymore.” She sends me a pointed look, and I roll my eyes. “So, moving on . . . You have no problems with manipulating magical energy alone, right?”
“Yeah. It goes along with that whole strength but no finesse thing I’ve got going on.”
Adrian laughs. “Better to have to learn finesse than be lacking in strength.”
I shove him with my shoulder, and he laughs.
Isobel’s brows draw together as she thinks. A couple seconds later, she nods to herself and turns her attention on me. “I know Basil has gone over the basics of spellcasting with you, but his office is too small for real spellwork. So, every time you’ve done something with spells, you’ve been expected to constrain yourself in some way, even in learning them.” She purses her lips. “Maybe that’s what’s holding you back, the fact that you can’t go all out with it, at least during the learning portion. Like what Adrian said about needing a big blast to clear the block.”
“You could be right,” I reply. “So, what do we do? I’m willing to try just about anything. I’m clearly miles behind everyone else in this area and need to catch up.”
“Miles behind in controlling it maybe,” says Adrian. “I have firsthand experience that tells me you have no problem actually casting.”
“Shut up. I already apologized.” I elbow him in the side.
He grins. “Yeah, and I’ve already forgiven you. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to milk it for all the sympathy I can.”
Isobel makes a circular motion with one hand, and I can feel her drawing magic from the air. “Let’s go back to the basics for a second,” she says. “Go ahead and pull enough magic for a small spell, but instead of doing anything with it, just hold it as an energy ball.”
I follow her instructions, gathering a tiny bit of magic into the palm of my hand and letting the power rest there. Well, as much as buzzing with energy can be called resting.
Isobel releases the magic she’s holding and steps closer to me. “Now, pass it to me.”
“Pass it?”
She nods. “Just hand it to me.”
Adrian raises his hand. “I’m not so sure that’s a good place to start.” His gaze darts to me, almost furtively. “As I said, firsthand experience.”
Isobel scoffs. “It’ll be fine.”
Will it though? I swallow hard and eyeball the bundle of magic in my palm. Since it’s only an energy ball, it isn’t actually visible, but I can tell it’s there.
My roommate reaches toward me, one hand extended, an encouraging look on her face.
A tremor vibrates in my fingers, and the intensity of the magic increases along with my agitation. “Is this dangerous?”
“No,” says Isobel.
“Maybe,” says Adrian at the exact same time.
I point my palm upward and direct a blast of energy toward the sky. A flurry of singed leaves hits the ground a second later.
Adrian gestures pointedly toward the fallen leaves.
I wince. “Why don’t we try something else? I’m all for learning, but not at the expense of your safety. My magic is too unpredictable to do things the normal way.”
“I can definitely agree on that,” says Adrian.
Isobel sighs, but she drops her hand and nods. “Fine. How about we start with how to properly release the magic instead?” She makes that circular motion again, pulling magic into her open hand. After a beat, she closes her fingers and moves her hand to face the ground in a slow, graceful movement. “Pull.” She draws on the energy again. “Release.” She repeats the hand closing motion. “It’s as simple as that.”
“Um, if you say so.”
I’ve done something like this . . . once. The time Isobel found me out on the quad I was able to release a small energy ball, but when I tried to release the magic I pulled for a spell, that’s when I ended up blowing a hole in the ground. And I haven’t tried it again since. No time like the present, I guess.
I gather magical energy into my palm then attempt to copy Isobel’s movements, closing my fingers and then moving my palm to face downward. The blast of energy hits the ground, and a shower of dirt cascades around me. I blink dust from my eyes as I try to blow it off my lips.
“That could’ve been your hand,” I say, giving Isobel a pointed look.
“I don’t understand it. You should be able to simply release the magic, but . . .”
The sound of her words fades out as a black bird flies across the clearing, pulling my attention away from my roommate. There’s something off about the bird, a feeling of ‘other’ that brushes against my senses. The bird lands in a tree on the far side, well away from us. From the little I know about birds, I can tell this one is either a raven or a crow, but I won’t have any idea which unless the thing starts quothing “nevermore.”
The bird opens his beak and caws at me, and the sound breaks me out of my weird fascination with the creature. I give my head a brisk shake. Getting a handle on spells is what I need to concentrate on, not some stupid bird.
“. . . do it that way, and it should work,” finishes Isobel.
Was she talkin
g the entire time my attention was on the bird? Oops.
“Can you repeat that?” I clear my throat. “Sorry. I got distracted by the bird.”
“The bird?” Adrian tilts his head to the side. “What bird?”
I cast a glance to the branches, but the bird is gone. A chill moves down my spine. What the hell?
“Maybe we should—”
“What is going on here?” I spin around to find Agent Wright stalking his way toward our little group.
“Practice,” says Adrian in a confident voice.
“And who gave you permission to do this outside of class?” asks Wright. When none of us answer, he looks to me. “I see. You thought to work around your punishment and give yourself an unfair advantage.”
“Unfair advantage? OSA refuses to let me learn in PE, and I don’t have a separate spellcasting class, so having my friends help me is my only option. What part of that gives me an unfair advantage? The part where my teacher can’t teach me or the part where the only people who can are not that much more experienced with all this than I am?”
Wright’s upper lip curls. “None of that is my problem.” He glances at my friends. “One of your practice shots registered with the school wards, and the incident needs to be logged. Which one of you did it?”
No doubt he’s talking about that blast of magic I sent up into the air, but admitting to doing that probably isn’t a good idea. My friends and I stay silent, and Wright’s eyes narrow.
“If no one will admit to it, I suppose all of you will just have to—”
“I do apologize, Agent Wright,” says Dr. Nikiforov as he steps out from between the trees. “The most recent spell belonged to me.”
“And who are you?” asks Wright.
“Dr. Sergei Nikiforov, Potions teacher.” Stepping closer to the OSA agent, Dr. Nikiforov holds out his hand as a light breeze kicks up.
Wright ignores the outstretched hand as his gaze darts over Nikiforov from his long, silvery blond hair loose around his shoulders to his dusty clothes and finally to his shoeless feet.
Nikiforov smiles and gestures at himself and then pats the messenger bag on his hip. “I apologize for my casual attire. I was gathering ingredients for next week’s classes, and the woods can be unkind to clothing.”
