Someone whispers “oh shit” a few tables down.
“I suggest you prepare accordingly.” Logan’s eyes sweep over our table, and each person he looks at shrinks back slightly. “Kieran doesn’t appreciate students who demonstrate themselves to be incapable from the start.”
Callie does a small flip of her hair, apparently determined to get attention. “Logan.” Her hand lands on his arm, although the moment she touches him, his whole body goes rigid. “Perfect timing. I was just?—”
“Return to the third-year table, Callie.”
She blinks at the dismissal, but recovers quickly, her fingers trailing down his sleeve. “Right. Of course. We’ll catch up later, okay?”
His jaw tenses, and he nods, the movement sharp and mechanical.
Callie throws me one last smile, all victory and venom, before gliding away.
Logan’s eyes finally meet mine for exactly one second. There’s something there—a flicker of... concern? Warning? Then it’s gone, and he turns away, walking to the fourth-year table without another word.
The chandelier above us dims back to normal.
“Well.” Felix lets out a long breath. “Anyone else feel like they just survived another trial?”
“Circus trash?” Evie’s voice shakes with indignation. “Did she really just?—”
“Forget her,” I say, but my hands are still trembling, from magic, adrenaline, or both. “We have bigger problems. What’s a combat assessment?”
Felix and Evie exchange a look that makes my stomach sink, then turn their attention back to me.
Evie, of course, takes it upon herself to be the first to explain.
“Combat assessment means Kieran will test our physical fighting abilities,” she says. “No magic allowed.”
Dread tightens in my stomach. “But I can barely make fire on a good day. Now I have to fight without it?”
“The Void Pit,” Felix adds helpfully, even though I have no idea what he’s talking about. “That’s where he’ll put us. It’s the arena in the Scorched Circles that suppresses magical abilities, forcing you to rely on physical combat alone.”
“Why would we need that?” I take a sip of water, trying to wash down the sudden dryness in my throat. “We’re witches. We have fire.”
“Fire doesn’t work on other witches,” Evie explains. “So, if you’re ever fighting another witch?—”
“You need steel,” Felix finishes.
“Great.” I huff. “So tomorrow morning, I get to humiliate myself in front of everyone by proving I can’t fight with magicorwithout it.”
“Stop catastrophizing.” Evie nudges me. “Maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”
“Right. Maybe I’ll discover I’m secretly a ninja.” I push my ash-covered bread plate away. “That seems about as likely as me suddenly being good at magic.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Felix says. “I mean, you survived having your crush on Logan Ashford broadcasted during the sigil ceremony. That’s got to count for something.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Can we please never mention that moment again?”
“Are you talking about the purple flames?” A new voice makes us all turn as a guy with Evie’s same amber eyes and easy smile approaches her chair, moving with the casual confidence of someone who belongs everywhere and is loved by everyone.
“Oliver!” Evie’s face lights up. “What are you doing over here?”
“Can’t I check on my little sister after her first day?” He ruffles her hair, and she swats at him, grinning. “Especially whenI hear Callie’s already making her rounds. Sorry about that, by the way.” He turns to me, his smile genuinely warm. “She’s got issues with anyone who breathes near Logan. You must be Jade.”
“Guilty.”
“Oliver Thorne.” He extends his hand, his sleeve riding up to show the intricate flame sigil that extends from his palm up his wrist. “Pro tip: the third-year desserts are usually the best. I’ll sneak you some later.”
