“Since the first day?” She examines her nails again. “But that’s not entirely true, is it? Everyone saw him almost approach your table at lunch today. It was all very… dramatic.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “He changed his mind and went back to his table.”
“After taking several steps toward you, yes.” She leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I need you to understand something, Jade. Logan’s been warming up to Callie again this year. They’ve been spending so much time together. Private sessions. Late night talks. Working through their past. It’s really quite romantic.”
My chest tightens, but I take a deep breath, steadying myself so it doesn’t look like her words sting. “Good for them.”
“Is it?” Her laugh tinkles like crystal. “Because those purple flames during the sigil ceremony? Bless your heart, that must have been so embarrassing.”
Each word is delivered with that same sweet smile, but they land like poison darts.
My hands clench into fists.
“You know,” she continues, adjusting an invisible wrinkle in her dress, “Callie was there when Logan’s parents died. She held him through the worst of it and helped him piece himself back together. They have real history. The kind of history thatmatters.”
“What’s your point, Alessandra?”
“My point?” She blinks innocently. “I’m just trying to help. You’re new here, and you don’t understand how things work. So, let me explain in simpler terms. Logan and Callie always find their way back to each other. And you? Well...” She gives mea pitying look. “You’re nothing but a first-year with a crush on him.”
I clench my fists tighter, trying to push down the electricity crackling under my skin. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you need to find someone more appropriate. Oliver seems lovely. Much better suited to someone of your background.”
The final word scrapes across my nerves, and the charge under my skin surges, no longer patient. Sparks snap at my knuckles, first tiny, then bolder. Silver threads flash before disappearing into my clenched fists, my nails digging deep into my palms.
Breathe,I tell myself.Hold it in.
But the pressure builds faster than I can contain it, each breath stoking it higher, until I swear my bones hum with it.
Then it erupts, racing down my arms like lightning desperate for a storm, weaving itself into silver webs that crackle across my palms.
Alessandra’s eyes widen as her gaze runs up and down my body. “Devil’s magic,” she breathes, and her hand moves to her hip, drawing her blade.
I freeze. Because why does she have her weapon on her during a party? And why didn’t I think to bring mine?
I don’t have time to contemplate it further, because in a flash of fire, Logan’s here. His hand catches Alessandra’s wrist mid-strike, twisting it until the blade falls to the floor and clatters against the worn-down stone.
Then more fire roars up, this time around all of us, swallowing everything like it did when he saved me during the Hydra trial. Heat sears my skin. My stomach plunges as if the ground’s been yanked out from under me. For one dizzying heartbeat, I’m weightless and helpless, flames pressing close but not burning.
When it clears, the air is damp and heavy, thick with the scent of wet rock and brine. The echoes of dripping water are loud against the silence. Judging from the faint thump of music filtering from above, we’re still in the Drowned Tower, just deeper inside its belly. The second floor, probably, since the first is permanently filled by the sea.
Logan, Alessandra, and I are the only ones in the space.
Alessandra’s staring at Logan with more surprise than when she looked at me. “Three of us,” she says, her face pale. “You just broughttwopeople with you when you fire traveled.”
“I did.” Logan’s completely stiff, seeming almost bored with the conversation.
“You shouldn’t…” She shakes her head, blinking as if she can’t keep track of everything happening around her. Then, after a few long seconds, she points to me. “She was using devil’s magic. Did you see what she?—”
He scoops up her fallen dagger and presses it to her throat in one fluid motion. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to shut her up.
“Jade.” His eyes are bright, almost feverish, and there’s sweat beading at his temple. “Look at me.”
Panic tears through me, my electricity wild now. It’s flooding through my veins, arcing between my fingers, and racing up my arms like it’s ready to strike anyone who comes close. Ready to defend me—even fromhim.
“Jade.” The dagger Logan’s holding doesn’t waver, but his eyes soften by a fraction. “Breathe. Slowly. Steadily.”
Alessandra jerks against him. “That’s not witch magic!” Her eyes bulge as she watches the silver electricity race up and down my arms, but Logan holds her still. “That’s?—“
