“Headmistress Sinclair has agreed that if I am to teach you better control that, we will have more success with an augere to filter the raw strength you have shown. So as I said, begin.”
It would have been helpful to have given her some sort of lesson on what she was meant to do, but from the way he was watching her with interest it was obvious this was a test in itself and she intended to pass. Taking a few steps to the first table she ran her hand just above the objects. A necklace, a vase, a key, and a simple fork. As she worked through the length of the room, she quickly realized that an augere could be anything at all.
“How does one find objects with magical potential?” Seren asked as she continued to work her way through the tables waiting for any sense of knowing or connection.
Icarus had walked along the aisle opposite her as she worked, never offering critique or suggestion.
“It’s a talent that is unique to a witch or wizard, much like portaling. You can imagine that makes every object here more precious.”
“How do you know if you have that talent?” Seren asked.
“You would have felt the connection with the objects already if you had the talent, but in your third year you will be tested for the talents we know of such as portaling, augere retrieval, healing.”
Seren’s mouth opened to ask her next question when she felt it. It was a whisper in the dark, a caress of moonlight, a promise of tomorrow. It was as if everything stopped existing outside of that siren call, even him. Her feet fell against the stone as if made of the wind itself, each step bringing her closer to where she belonged.
On one of the many shelves lining the walls, she found the source of the fluttering in her chest. A small silver hair comb with a single rose in the center offset by curling vines on either side covered in a small coating of dust contained all her attention. It seemed to radiate magic and the promise of power. It filled her veins and lit her skin on a fire that consumed her in a way that made her want to beg for more. A wind blew past her and the dust that had been covering the comb gave way to the wind’s power. Seren turned to see Icarus watching her with an intensity that made his blue-gray eyes blaze like a storm at midnight. It would have threatened to light something in her if her attention wasn’t immediately called back to the comb which seemed to give a pulse of power at her divided attention.
Reverently, Seren let her fingertips glide over the comb and the moment they did it was as if all the magic that flowed recklessly and chaotically in her veins narrowed into a single focused channel. The eye of the storm surrounded by turbulent wind and heavy rain. The quiet in her body was enough to nearly bring her to her knees. It was as if a knowing peace filled her. Needing to know, Seren lifted her fingers from the comb and the moment she did the errant magic flowed erratically through her once again making her the storm.
Seren swallowed, her throat thick. She went to reach for the comb once more, but Icarus was there beside her. He lifted the comb and Seren stilled. His usually stoic face was softer as if he felt the magic as much as she did, but that wasn’t possible. With his free hand he tucked her dark hair behind her ear, the touch intimate and consuming. She shivered despite herself and he stilled. His eyes bore into hers and she could see the torture in them.
The past and the future at constant war inside him. Seren’s stomach felt as if it were on fire and she didn’t dislike the feeling.
Icarus took a long breath and slid the comb into her hair. The moment it made contact with her body it was as if that focused calm became a part of her once more. The breath she let free was one of relief and one of belonging.
“It suits you.” His voice was breathy as if he had run miles.
Seren reached up and ran her fingers over the comb feeling the ridges of the rose and the edges of the vines. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that as thanking him didn’t seem like the right answer. Her heart hammered in her chest as her vision narrowed to his lips which were parted as if in askance or acceptance. Seren took the step forward that closed the distance between them. Their bodies nearly touching. Tension filled every part of her as she tightened with the promise of expectation.
Icarus might not have been breathing if it weren’t for the small exhale that left their breath mingling in the charged magical air surrounding them. Seren leaned forward needing to close the distance and to know what his lips felt like against hers. The tension in her fractured as he pulled away suddenly, turning his back to her as he walked to the other side of the room as if her proximity was poison.
“I trust you understand the opportunity presented to you is unique and not to be shared with other students. You will be able to channel your magic through your augere without holding it since it will be on your person so there should be no need to draw attention to it. Do you understand?” His voice was back to that of a teacher correcting an errant student.
Irritation replaced the desire that had been building in her.
“Perfectly.” She answered, the word sharp and full of venom.
If he noticed he didn’t care as he strode for the entrance they had come through.
“That will be all for tonight, Miss Marudas.”
Dismissed and rejected, she followed him despite her childish urge to stay and ignore his commands. As the door closed behind them and Icarus locked it, the key disappeared with the same buzzing it had appeared which signaled its departure.
“Good night, Miss Marudas,” he said without looking at her.
Seren didn’t bother to answer him as she left his classroom barely taking care not to slam the door behind her.
Chapter twenty-two
Icarus Atwood
IcarusAtwoodhadneveranticipated nor dreaded a Monday more than the one separated from him by the week's end. With the winter solstice on the horizon, October drew in both cold and unforgiving, the last of summer's green shifting to auburn and yellow. The change came with a silver lining. Storm season would soon come to a close, the unrelenting rain and clouds were almost behind them. But it was what lay ahead that worried him most.
A pain shot through his side as he stalked along the muted landscape–a smear of ash beneath a starlit sky–and tried not to think of Seren or the way she’d looked leaning toward him in the faint light of the Akashic Hall. How, surrounded by magic more ancient than time, her skin glowed as vibrant as moondust on water when she’d lifted the exquisite comb–a creation almost as beautiful and unique as the witch herself. In that moment, he’d wanted her more than he dared admit.
Perhaps the private lessons had been a bad idea. Perhaps he did not have as much control as he hoped. The proximity, the feel of being alone with her, no prying eyes that would judge him for taking her into his arms and letting the darkness within him win. Was it a cruel joke of nature that their magic should connect so readily?
He’d felt it that first day, as they traded globes of power in the briar maze, and then again in the library when he confronted her about the Pavor wand. The third time, after his fight with Calder, the connection had nearly undone him. One of magic’s great mysteries, that tendrils of their power should seek connection and find it in another with seemingly no rhyme or reason. It could be in family, or a friend, or a stranger they’d never met before in their life. But still, it always meant something and there was a pain to deny the dark feelings as he tried to do, over and over. What would it cost him to give in?
