He coughs dramatically and waves a tiny, clawed hand in front of his face. “Simply taking the edge off the tasty treat that is my life. There’s a difference, Sparkles.”
Rowan snorts. “Sparkles?”
I roll my eyes. “Did I fail to mention how charming he is?”
Orion chuckles. “I like him.”
S’Nark squints at me, swaying slightly. “So, why am I here? I already told you I’m not interested in dumbing down to the likes of a plebe. I’ve got a reputation in certain circles.”
I’m afraid to think about what circles they might be. “Well, I’ve been training. I’m much better now.”
He straightens and scratches at the leopard print boxers he’s wearing. “Yep, you’re rocking it. I’m sure that’s why you snapped a focus rune in half during a basic summons. You know those things are practically indestructible, right?”
“Well, maybe you’re just that toxic to summon.”
He burps, then grins lazily. “Still doesn’t change the fact that you’re a disaster with training wheels.”
“And you’re a sarcastic asshole who smells like cheap tequila and sweaty gym socks.”
He holds up a finger. “That would beexpensivetequila and sex, thank you very much.”
Wylder pinches the bridge of his nose. “Congratulations, Hallowind, you’ve bonded with a real gem. Try not to lose control of your spirit fire near him. He’s going to go up like a bonfire.”
S’Nark hisses at Wylder, then turns back to me. “Lose control of your spirit fire? Are you saying you actually accomplished conjuring spirit fire?”
“Started one hell of a blaze,” I shoot back. “Maybe I’ll do it again and see just how flammable you are.”
“Maybe I’ll let you. Nothing like a good razing to get the blood pumping.”
We glare at each other. The room falls silent except for Orion’s barely concealed laughter.
Finally, S’Nark sighs, his pointed tail flicking. “Fine. If you can set things on fire, you’re not a total waste of air. What do you want from me?”
“I want your help. I don’t know what I’m doing, and you’re supposed to help me.”
He tilts his head, yellow eyes narrowing. For a moment, the drunken haze clears, and something sharper looks back at me. “Yeah, I’m not sure there’s any helping you.”
I roll my eyes and let out a long sigh, looking at Wylder. “Do you honestly think he offers me anything worth having?”
S’Nark scoffs. “Rude, Sparkles.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
S’Nark shifts from his little demon gremlin form into something sleeker—a raven with obsidian feathers and eyes that burn like hot red coals. He perches on my shoulder, talons digging through the fabric of my jacket just enough to remind me he’s there.
“Ready to make a fool of yourself in front of an audience?” he caws, preening a wing.
“That’s the spirit,” I mutter, stepping onto the training field.
It’s been a trying few days, but my familiar and I seem to have come to an understanding of sorts. I’ll tolerate a fair bit of his toxic attitude as long as he comes when called and helps me in the clutch when I need him.
Wylder isn’t happy with the arrangement, citing the fact that a familiar is duty bound to help and protect its witch, but I’ll take what I can get.
And that’s how we got to where we are now.
The ground here is different—compacted dirt mixed with sand, scorched in places from previous students’ attempts at fire magic. Wards shimmer faintly at the edges, containing whatever chaos happens within. Smart.
Wylder stands at the far end, arms crossed over his chest. He’s got that serious instructor look down: jaw set, eyes sharp, focus locked. It’s not openly hostile anymore, but not exactly warm either.
