“But this Caden Colt guy isn’t someone you trust?” I asked carefully, after I’d caught the faint edge of unease in his voice.
James rubbed the back of his neck before replying. “I’ve never met the guy. All I know is what I’ve heard—hearsay and reputation, mostly. But I did meet his second-in-command once, Sean McGrath. We met during a mission, back when I was….” The words trailed off again, the memory unmistakably a painful one.
“Reducing overpopulation for the Council?” I suggested gently.
He let out an unexpected, dry laugh. “Yeah. Sure.” His expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss me.
His lips brushed mine with a tenderness so deep it momentarily erased the weight of everything else. When he pulled back, his hand briefly caressed my cheek.
“Sean’s a solid guy though,” James said, his voice steadier now. “Keeps Colt in check—at least, that’s the word. I’ve been trying to nex him, but the bastard’s ignoring me. If it doesn’t change soon, I’ll have to portal out there myself.”
I nodded, absorbing his words and the gravity of what they implied. “Good luck with that. Sounds like he might make you work for it,” I said, half-smiling.
James smirked faintly but didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned in again, this time pressing a quick peck to my forehead. Then, without another word, he turned and left, not bothering with a goodbye—or a good luck.
It stung, a little more than I cared to admit, but I brushed it off. I didn’t need luck. I was a formidable maga, and these classes would be a godsdamn walk in the park.
Straightening my shoulders, I pushed open the door—and walked right into a wall of utter cringe. About fifty bored sixteen-year-olds stared back at me, some frowning in confusion, others smirking like I was the punchline to a bad joke.
I cleared my throat. “Hi.” And that was it. My brain had officially left the building, taking my vocabulary with it.
Shifting my weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, I tried my best not to wave. Fantastic. Day one, and I’d greeted my cutthroat classmates with the charisma of a goldfish auditioning for Jaws.
The following silence was suffocating, the kind so thick you could slice it with a dull butter knife. No one even bothered to reply.
Not awkward at all.
I forced myself to walk toward the center of the room, trying to project confidence—or at least something better thanplease don’t eat me. But as I took my place, the whispers began. Low at first, like a rustle of leaves, then gradually swelling into murmurs and unmistakable questions.
“Is it true you’re the one who blew up the Spring Palace?” someone asked, their tone dripping with incredulity.
Crap.
“Did you really survive an Amplifier?” another voice chimed in, disbelief practically oozing from every syllable.
I swallowed hard and plastered what I hoped was a composed, I-am-very-cool expression on my face. “Maybe,” I said with a casual shrug. No way was I confirming—or denying—anything.
The murmurs grew louder, questions overlapping, when a sharp voice sliced through the noise like a whip. “All right, people, settle down. Take your positions!”
After quickly glancing around, my focus landed on someone who didn’t quite fit in with the other people in the room. The man looked to be around forty, with the kind of face which screamed “serious hobbyist,” and an uncanny resemblance to an older Frodo Baggins. If Frodo had traded the ring for a mortgage and a midlife crisis.
Not having any idea what these requested “positions” were, my gaze wandered and I tried to mimic my fellow students, which instantly drew the attention of Frodo.
“You,” he hissed, looking at me like I’d personally offended his prized stamp collection. “What do you think you’re doing?”
What did it look like I was doing?
“Auditioning for Broadway, sir,” I replied politely, earning me a few poorly stifled snickers from my peers.
Frodo’s eyes narrowed, his irritation clear. “You think you’re funny? Let’s see how funny you are after a bit of sparring. Brian, you’re up.”
A hush fell over the room as every head turned toward Brian. He stepped forward, radiating confidence. Evidently, he was used to being the center of attention.
“Let me guess, first in your class?” I muttered under my breath. His smirk turned into a more sinister grin.
“Guess you’ll find out,” he taunted. “Unless you’re planning on blowing up this school too?”
“Not exactly something I penciled into my schedule,” I mumbled back dryly.
