Alex and Amethyst gave me shy smiles, and I grinned at them. “It’s okay, we’re still here and we all did pretty well on the exams. We can say that we’re excited to attend. I mean, it feels good, doesn’t it? Knowing that in a month we’ll probably be back here as students—beginning our journey as apprentices in the Society of Spies.”
“Oh my God. I can’t even consider a month from now! All I can think about is tomorrow!” Amethyst dragged her hands down her face.
“Likewise,” Alex said. “Although I can’t truthfully say I haven’t dreamt about taking healing classes in the past.”
“But isn’t healing reserved for the Grind and Crucible-years? Initiates can’t take it, right?” Amethyst’s lips squished to the side as she tried to recall which years took what.
“Yeah, it is. But we have Herbalism, Potions, and Poisons in the Culling-year,” I offered. “It’s not exactly the same as healing, but kind of an introduction to all the different sorts of substances that can affect your body.”
Amethyst quirked an eyebrow at me. “Are yousureyou never sat in on lectures?”
I shook my head. “No way. I was in human school in Portland with Tabitha and Phoebe,” I gestured over to my friends.
Alex’s full lips pressed together in a thin line when he noticed Hunter flirting ostentatiously with the girls. Dammit, why had I pointed Hunter out? I didn’t want to annoy Alex. I wanted to charm him.
“By the time I got home in the afternoon most of the Spellcasters classes were usually over,” I said, trying to recapture their attention. “And even if they weren’t, or if they were having a special workshop, Mother wouldn’t have allowed me to sit in.”
I refrained from mentioning that I had often snuck into my mother’s personal library and therefore did know a thing or two from some of the advanced classes. “I wasn’t even allowed to watch the Culling-year trials—like ever. Although, I saw the aftermath and can say with certainty that they’re going to bebrutal.”
Jackson had been bedbound for two days after Samhain Trials, and as much as he was an awful coward, physically, he wasn’t a weakling.
Amethyst groaned. “I haven’t even thought about those. They take place on witching holidays, right?”
I nodded. “On the Samhain, Imbolc, and Beltane sabbats.”
“Well, I guess no one can say Spellcasters isn’t a sucker for tradition,” Amethyst tipped back her can of soda and frowned when she realized it was empty. “I’ve been so hungry and thirsty since I got here. Must be all the excess magic I’m using. Anyway, I’m gonna go get another. See you two later.”
As soon as she left, I seized my chance at getting Alex alone. “Do you want to get out of here for a bit? Maybe go for a walk around the lake?”
The corners of Alex’s lips twitched up. “Sure, it’d be nice to get away from all the noise.” His eyes veered to Hunter again and his lips formed a flat line. “In fact, a little fresh air is exactly what I need.”
Alex and I exited the cathedral-like front doors of Spellcasters and the warmth of the mid-May night wrapped around me like a cocoon, easing my nerves slightly.
I hadn’t quite decided exactly what it was about Alex that drew me to him yet. Of course, he was handsome and good at magic and smart, but there was something else too—something more important.
I suspected that it might be that his drive equaled mine, maybe even surpassed it. He was someone who’d studied his ass off to be here. And the fact that Alex had had no guarantee of even beingallowedto take the exams made him even more attractive.
And of course there was his ancestry. In the free day I’d had between Father being injured and Tabitha and Phoebe arriving at Spellcasters, I done a bit of sleuthing on the entire Wardwell clan. They were a Salem family, and as distinguished as all the rest. In fact, during the witch trials, the Wardwell family had saved many true witches from the noose of persecution.
In more modern times Hunter’s side of the family had been active in our community as supernatural spies and community leaders for decades. Whereas Alex’s branch had been known as renowned healers for nearly as long. Knowing that his family had contributed to the good of witching kind, turned me on nearly as much as Alex himself.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Alex asked.
“Just thinking about everything that happened these last couple of days,” I lied smoothly.
“I don’t know how,” Alex shook his head. “I’m sick to death of analyzing what I could have done better or differently.”
“Yeah . . . ” My near failure in the final challenge rose up in my mind and I pushed it away. Although each test had gone reasonably well, I knew exactly what Alex meant. My moments of struggle had been on my mind a frustrating amount. “So, what do you plan on doing in the month before school starts then?”
“Who knows?” Alex let out a big sigh. “I’ve dreamed of coming here for years, but I didn’t think it would actually happen. I guess I have a lot to prepare for—and a life to pack up.”
“Yeah, there’s that. It’s a big adjustment. A lot of people can’t handle cutting off their past lives. Cell phone confiscation day is the worst. Literally some students look like they might die.”
Many students and parents considered the forced isolation that Spellcasters imposed a cruel stipulation of enrollment. But if you wanted a Spellcasters education and the opportunities it provided, that was part of the deal. The academy valued privacy and secrecy. They considered a life in which their students lived cut off from loved ones good training for when they became spies.
We fell into silence as we walked. Alex was presumably thinking about Spellcasters, whereas I was wondering if this was the night I got to know him in the intimate manner that I craved. As we neared the lake, I gestured for Alex to enter the trail that ran along its banks and he took the lead.
Even though it was only May, the grasses were already high and I was so distracted by Alex’s muscular back that my foot catching on a root came as a complete surprise. I tripped over it in spectacular fashion, a yelp slipping from my lips and arms flying everywhere. Thankfully, my hands latched onto Alex’s back, stopping me from face-planting. He let out a faintomphas he was forced to bear my weight, and my cheeks lit on fire.
