by Sadie Moss
“We have our next classes,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the soft skin of my throat.
I’m sorely tempted to find an abandoned nook in the quad and take this further, but Asher’s not the kind of guy you want for a rough, hard fuck in public. That sounds a lot more like Dmitri’s style. Or Roman’s.
Asher’s more reserved than that. Sweeter and softer. He’d want to be someplace where we could take our time and savor each other.
He’d probably even want to light candles for the mood, the dork, and I wouldn’t mind since, well, I’m not a romantic… but it’s Asher. He likes the gentle things in life, and I like him that way.
“Yeah. You’re right.” I draw back slightly, running my fingers through his shaggy brown locks just because I can. His body gives a little shiver beneath me that I feel all the way from my clit to my heart. I press one more kiss to his lips before I reluctantly slide off his lap. “I need to stay on top of my work this semester. I don’t want to get behind.”
It’s a good thing, I tell myself, that we’re not going further. As we walk back toward Wellwood Hall, I remind myself of all the reasons why I need to stop getting so deeply involved with these men.
But that doesn’t stop me from spending the rest of the day dreaming about myself, Asher, and a room lit by soft candlelight.
Chapter 5
Determined to prove to Alyssa, the guys—and most of all, to myself—that I can hack it here, I start my private lessons with Professor Tamlin early the next week.
And honestly?
I hate to admit it, but they’re really helpful.
Darn it. I wish I could hate Tamlin. I really do. It would be easier for me to just put her in that little box of ‘evil ex-girlfriend’. But she’s not a bad person at all. She’s patient with me, she seems to like me, she encourages me, she doesn’t lose her temper, and she’s clearly confident in her magical abilities.
God, I wish I could be her. I’m this awkward, grumpy nobody who thinks band t-shirts are the height of fashion and can barely braid her own hair.
And I can barely do magic.
“You rely too much on your emotions, Elliot,” Tamlin tells me during our third session, sitting me down after I fail to make a modification of my sonic boom work. “It’s how we all naturally do magic at first, since emotions are so powerful. But they’re hard to control. It’s very difficult to make yourself feel something, and the right thing, at the right moment, and then to be able to stop that emotion from going too far.”
“You’re giving me a real respect for actors,” I mutter.
“Why do you think so few magic users are actors? It’s difficult to open yourself up like that, go through raw and intense emotions—even if they are manufactured—and maintain control of your magic at the same time.”
That makes sense.
Tamlin smiles gently at me. “You need to use your mental strength rather than your emotions. You’re a very smart and stubborn woman, Elliot. I know you have the mental power to control your magic. It’s harder and yields fewer immediate results than with your emotions, but it’s worth it in the long term.”
I look down at my hands, like they’re the culprits behind this whole mess. “What if I never manage it?”
“You will,” she replies, laying her hand on my arm. “Trust me, Elliot, you will.”
Despite the progress I’ve made, I leave our training session feeling empty, confused, and alone. All around me, everyone seems to be mastering their magic.
So why can’t I?
It’s not Tamlin’s fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s not even my fault, exactly, in that I’m not slacking off. It’s just something that’s a part of me, like my eyes or my hair, and I can’t control it—and God, I wish I could. I hope one day I can.
When I step out of Wellwood Hall, I see that everyone’s making their way toward the auditorium. Huh. Is something wrong? A mass of students pour out of the building behind me, and my instincts have me backing toward the wall so nobody can sneak up on me from behind, still on high alert after Raul.
The crowd parts as Dmitri steps through—people tend to hustle to move out of his way, probably due to the resting bastard face he’s got going on. Dmitri’s handsome as hell, with his brown-black hair cut shorter on the sides and a little longer on top, his sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and piercing, dark eyes. But he also looks like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed for a month.
Cam and Asher are right behind him, their gazes scanning the crowd. Dmitri sees me and moves so that the crowd parts around me and Cam can grab my arm.
“C’mon, Sin! We’re gonna be late.”
I frown up at him as we hustle along. “For what?”
“Dean Hardwick called some kind of assembly. Said he had good, important news for us.”
The rapid patter of my heart slows a little. Good news. Okay, that’s—I can work with good news.
We reach the assembly hall and sit down in our usual arrangement. I want to thank Dmitri for getting everyone out of the way, but before I can speak, Hardwick walks onto the stage, making the crowd fall silent around us.
“Students!” He’s looking more chipper than I’ve ever seen him. Dean Hardwick is a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and a deep, soothing voice. Honestly, he’s the kind of guy who looks like you’d find him coaching your daughter’s soccer team, not heading a magical academy. “It is my great pleasure to announce to you that our school has, for the first time in its history, been selected to be included in the Inter-magic Trials.”
The auditorium immediately erupts into noise, buzzing as people whisper none-too-quietly to one another.
I look over at Asher. “What are the…”
Asher nods toward the podium, where Hardwick is speaking again.
“For those first-years who might not know,” the dean says, “the Trials are an annual competition held between magical academies. We like to think it’s a lot safer than the Triwizard Tournament, for those of you who know your Harry Potter. We won’t be sending your friends to the mermaids.”
There’s some laughter from the crowd.
“Schools such as Vulcan Academy, Neptune Academy, and others compete in a friendly inter-disciplinary competition to promote relationships between magical orders. Previously, it was felt that our school was… well. That Unpredictable magic was by its very nature dangerous, and that it would be too risky in a setting like that. I’ve been petitioning for years for you students to get your chance to shine and demonstrate your skills. But I’ve always been denied until this year.”
The whispers have died down completely, and now the entire auditorium is hanging on his every word. I glance around, a little surprised at the looks of excitement on people’s faces.
“The bravery shown by certain students in defending us from attack last semester has garnered a lot of goodwill from the rest of the magical world. We’re being seen more as equals. We teach you here that you’re not any less worthy because of your unique abilities, but some people are quite stubborn about those things. I’m sure you all know that, despite our best attempts to educate the magical populace, prejudice against Unpredictables still persists.”
A few heads swivel in our direction, and I duck my head, a flush creeping up my cheeks. Move along, nothing to see here, folks.
Dean Hardwick lifts his chin, gazing out at the assembled students. “This is a wonderful opportunity for us to show the world what we really are: no different from them. We’re hardworking magical practitioners. It’s also a great networking opportunity for you all. Even if you aren’t competing in the Trials themselves, you can meet people from other academies and foster connections that may be useful once you graduate.”
His expression hardens just a little, his voice deepening. “I cannot stress to you enough the importance of putting our best foot forward in this competition. The world likes to tell you that you’re out of control. That you’re dangerous. But we know better, and now’s the time
to show that. I hope you’ll join me in representing our school well.” Hardwick gives a little smile. “And of course, I hope we kick their asses.”
A burst of excited laughter fills the auditorium.
“For us to win this competition would be a huge accomplishment for Griffin Academy. It would really show the world what we can do. But also…” He chuckles, bobbing his head. “I’m competitive, and I just want to be able to parade that trophy around for a year.”
Everyone laughs again, including me this time. I’m a bit competitive myself.
“So.” Hardwick clears his throat. “One student is picked from each pillar of magic to represent their academy. Those of you who are not picked will be encouraged to watch the Trials and cheer on our representative. There will be events aside from just the competitions, and I highly recommend that you attend and mingle.”
Dmitri snorts, a look of disgust clouding his features, and Cam nudges him to be quiet.
“In order to choose who will be representing us, we will have a competition of our own. The winner will have the privilege of representing Griffin Academy in the Trials for the very first time. And I wish to emphasize that this competition is open to all. I don’t want any of you saying that you won’t get it because you’re a first-year up against third-years. You never know. Sign up and see.” Hardwick grins. “And if we get every single student to participate in the competition, then I’ll arrange a reward for everyone for their school spirit. I think that’s it—we’ll be emailing you more information shortly and putting it up on posters around campus. Thank you all, and may the best magic user win!”
He steps away from the podium, and the room goes absolutely bonkers.
Cam’s already poking at Dmitri and going on and on about how they have to enter and how exciting it is and how he hopes he gets it, but if he doesn’t get it then Dmitri should. Even Asher is sitting up a little straighter, a thoughtful smile spreading across his face.
I’m… less excited. I mean, it’s great for whoever gets picked, but if they think I’m entering this competition, they’re nuts. I can barely do magic on a good day. I’m not going to set myself up to be humiliated, thanks.
Not to mention… well, I hate to rain on anyone’s parade, but this feels kind of like when people go to a circus and see the freaks on display. Sure, the “freaks” are getting attention, but at what price? And why? Because they’re oddities and people want to poke at them.
I just can’t shake the fear that whoever enters the Trials on behalf of our school will just be that. A freak sideshow. Not the main attraction. Nobody’s going to actually want an Unpredictable to win or even really care if we win. They’ll just want to be able to pat themselves on the back for including us and then laugh at us behind their hands later.
I honestly feel sorry for whoever’s chosen, having to deal with that mess.
“You should enter, Sin!” Cam grins at me and drapes an arm around my shoulder. “You’d do great with your sonic boom.”
“That’s just a one-trick pony type thing.” I wrinkle my nose. I’m pretty sure I’d have to have more than just one ace up my sleeve to make it through the Trials, whatever they may entail.
“Yeah, but it’s still a damn cool trick.” His blue eyes gleam with pride.
I shake my head evasively. “Nah, I don’t think so. You three should enter, though. You’d do well.” Especially Dmitri, he’s built for battle. “If everyone else in the school enters, and I’m the only one holding us back from a massive pizza party, then I’ll do it. But otherwise? Hell no.”
Yeah…
I really need to stop and think about these “famous last words” I keep throwing around.
Chapter 6
The Trials are all anyone talks about for the next few days.
It starts to feel a little like I’m stuck in some kind of magical echo chamber. Trials, Trials, Trials.
I try to get into the whole school spirit thing, but that’s never really been my personality type—I was never a cheerleader in high school, if you can believe it. And don’t people know they’re just setting up whoever wins to be a guinea pig for the entire magical community?
Not to mention, I hear a lot of people saying they’ll try out when… um… I know for a fact they won’t win. I’m talking bookworm second-years who get their asses kicked by Dmitri every fight class, or first-years like me who can barely get a tennis ball into a basket. Why do people set themselves up for humiliation on a slim to none chance?
Alyssa, of course, is planning on entering. So are her other three cohorts. I could actually see Cristina being some kind of threat—she’s got this quiet air of I will cut you about her that I can’t help but respect just a bit. But Kendal? Oh, man. Poor thing’s going to get eaten alive in the first round.
I wasn’t exactly expecting the competition to be a sit down test, but I’m surprised when I hear it’s going to be a fight competition, much like our class taught by Tamlin. I do pretty well in that class, or at least, I used to, as far as the non-magical aspect goes. I’ve always been able to hold my own in a scuffle. A woman who works late shifts at a bar? Yeah, I had to break up a few fights and be prepared for the worst on my walks home.
But this is no-holds-barred magic as well. The rules seem to be pretty simple—use your magic in any way you can to win, while also using your fists to beat the shit out of your opponent.
Cheerful stuff.
The guys are all entering, and Asher’s the kind of person who reads all the terms and conditions before clicking “I Accept”, so I’m well aware of the rules by the time the day of the competition rolls around. You can’t use the same magical trick over and over to win fights. It’s cool if you can freeze or levitate your opponent, but they don’t want a one-trick pony to win, so you have to employ multiple magical tactics as the rounds go on. There’s a preliminary round of single combat, and then those who win their preliminary go into a battle royale, everyone against everyone.
I distinctly recall how everyone reacted in the dining hall when Raul made our cuffs burn off, so I don’t know who thought this battle royale thing was a good idea, but if you ask me, they’re insane. I nearly killed Asher with my sonic boom, and about twenty students ended up in the infirmary after that debacle. And they want to just unleash us on each other like that again?
There’s also a rule about not killing your opponent and just trying to incapacitate them or get them to surrender, because of course there is, but I don’t know how well that whole thing will work. I’m honestly a little worried that it won’t—and that one of my men will be the one getting hurt.
Um. Not that any of them are mine, strictly speaking.
Everyone who’s competing has to check in first in one of the large first-floor classrooms in Wellwood Hall. I read over the rules posted on the entry doors one last time as everyone files in. There are tables set up for people to sign in if they already put their name down, as well as tables to register if they’ve decided to join at the last minute.
Dmitri’s stretching already while Cam and Asher wait in line to sign in. I can see Roman sitting at the table for the last-minute sign ups, looking stoic and stern as always. I haven’t gotten to sneak over to his room in a couple weeks, and I resist the urge to wave or walk over and talk to him. I certainly don’t talk to the guys—they need to focus, and I don’t want to distract them.
“And here I thought you’d be desperate to sign up, Roach,” Alyssa muses, walking up beside me and staring at the rules, like I’m not even worth making eye contact with. “Get all that attention you’re so desperate for.”
“Right, I’m the one who’s desperate for attention.”
She scoffs, tossing her blonde hair. “Please. Why else would you need three men to boost your ego? And that whole stunt with saving the school?”
“Did you seriously just suggest I helped save the school because I wanted attention? Like, as a stunt?”
“I don’t pretend to understand you,” Alyssa
replies, her tone dripping with disdain. “Anyway. I think it’s a good thing you’re not competing. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
I stare at her. “Are you saying I couldn’t handle myself?”
“I didn’t say it, you just did,” Alyssa replies, giving me a smug smile. Goddamn it, I’d like to smack that smirk right off her face. “But honestly, it’s for the best. I’d hate for you to get hurt and embarrass yourself in the first round. The person who saved the school basically flunking out of the competition? Ouch. Talk about a blow.”
“Your concern is so sweet,” I reply, my blood nearly boiling. “I suppose, as a first-year, you’re not entering either? I wouldn’t want you to chip a nail.”
“Oh, no, I am. You see, I’m not a coward.” She shakes her head, like she’s so disappointed in me.
“What, now you want me to enter? I thought you just said it was a good thing I wasn’t in the competition?”
“Well, there’s a downside too. The person who saved the whole academy should show a little more school spirit, don’t you think? And it does make you look rather… snobby. Or scared. Take your pick!” Alyssa smiles brightly. “Quite a Catch-22, isn’t it? Oh, well!”
I grit my teeth. She’s right that I’m not one for school spirit. I stopped Raul because he was planning to do bad things, not because he was doing them on academy grounds. And I don’t think just because I stopped a rogue mage once—which any decent person would do—that should mean I have to participate in every school event ever. What am I, fucking prom queen?
I’m not an attention grabber, and I’m not the only one who was there fighting Raul. Roman was there, and so were Dmitri, Cam, and Asher, and they’re all in the competition. I’d say that’s plenty of damn school spirit represented right there.
But at the same time…
Motherfuck.
If I don’t enter the competition, Alyssa’s going to spread the rumor I was too scared to do it; I just know she will. If I do enter the competition, she’ll still say something—probably that I’m an attention hog and all that—but hopefully, I can at least get through the first round to the battle royale part. Then I can go after her smug little face and punch her, and nobody can punish me for it.
