“Correct,” he stated, but it was clear the headmaster was worried about his daughter.
“Professor Emberveil,” the headmaster called.
A woman strode onto the stage with a professional expression. She had shoulder-length orange-red hair and red eyes full of flames, telling me she was a firedrake.
“Please.” She gestured for Rune to sit in the old rock chair that was in the middle of the stage.
Professor Emberveil was frightening in a different way than Rune was. The professor moved like a prim and polite scholar, but she had the cold presence of someone who’d been allowed to hurt people legally and enjoyed it.
I knew that personality well.
The lights dimmed.
Rune sat in the chair, placing her arms on the armrests, and metal wrapped around her wrists the moment she set her arms down.
“Drecken, would you be a dear?” Professor Emberveil asked, raising her brow at the warlock who stood to the side of the auditorium with a hesitant expression.
His jaw clenched as if he hated whatever she was suggesting, but he snapped his fingers anyway.
Rune’s clothes dissolved in wisps of magic, reforming as minimal clothing against her pale skin; a simple black sports bra and shorts.
I bit down on my lip. She had the sexiest belly ring ever; a golden snake with ruby eyes.
A low hum vibrated through the floor as a crystal containment box descended from the ceiling just over her and the chair perfectly. The walls shimmered with layered enchantments. An icy sheen frosted over them as the box lowered around her.
Rune didn’t flinch. Her golden eyes stayed locked on the professor even as the crystal settled into place, sealing her in with a soft, airtight click. The temperature around herplummeted instantly. Frost bloomed across the inner walls of the cube, and I couldn’t contain a hiss.
Extreme cold exposure.
A blast of arctic mist hissed from vents above her before what had to be freezing water dumped over her in a timed cascade, soaking her completely.
“Fates, that’s cold.” She shuddered violently, but stayed seated. Her bra clung wetly to her chest.
Through the fogged glass, I saw the way the cold sharpened her body. Her nipples peaked hard under the black fabric, and goosebumps danced down her arms and thighs. Even her breath misted in soft puffs as she sat with her spine straight and teeth clenched.
Basilisks wouldn’t die from cold, but it was torture to go through.
I felt my fangs press against my lower lip again.
Fates, she was suffering, and still, she radiated defiance. My pretty little poison was stubborn. Even in torment, she was…fucking beautiful.
“Will you tell me the intel?” Professor Emberveil’s voice echoed through the speaker sweetly.
Rune smiled at her. “What intel?”
A second wave of freezing water hit her from above, pounding against her skull, soaking her hair and trickling down her skin.
She flinched, curling slightly forward, but when the spray stopped, she straightened again. “That was rude.”
The warlock who had stripped her down shifted uncomfortably on his feet. His hands twitched at his sides like he hated watching this.
I couldn’t relate, though. I mean, I hated the helplessness she must’ve been going through, but watching her endure like this, soaked and freezing and defiant?
It made my blood fucking heat.
Beside me, Raze muttered, “She’s not even shaking as much anymore. That’s not normal.”
“She’s perfect,” I sighed in delight.
