“I have a sense of humor,” he deadpans.
“Could have fooled me,” I mumble, but leave it at that. I really need to learn this spell.
He takes his cloak off and hangs it over a chair. “There is a large lantern in the mess hall, where we eat. Have you seen it?”
I nod. “It’s above the fireplace, right?”
“Yes.”
“And inside is a small, glowing light?”
“I remember. What about it?”
“It’s a beacon, the anchor to theInveniospell. You cast this spell, and it will guide you back to the light.”
“How does it work?”
Max takes my hands in his, and I can’t help noticing how warm his skin is. The callouses on his palms rasp against my flesh, and I suppress a shiver of awareness. “You hold your hands out like this, and envision the lantern on the mantel.”
“Okay.”
He lowers his hands. “Think of that lantern as clear as you can,” he instructs.
I close my eyes. “I’m thinking about it now.”
“Now concentrate on the light inside.”
“Okay.” I see the little light bobbing up and down behind the foggy glass.
“Now sayinvenioas you imagine part of that light sparking out of the lantern and appearing before you.”
I see the lantern clear in my mind. I think about the little light inside, glowing brighter and brighter.
“Invenio.”
“Open your eyes,” Max says softly.
I gasp when I see a little yellow ball of light hovering above my fingers.
“Now toss it up.”
I flick my fingers and the little ball flies up a few inches and then hovers in the air.
“Whoa.”
“It is pretty neat,” he says, giving me a rare smile. “Now take a step forward and the light will move in front of you, guiding you to the lantern in the mess hall.”
“That’s amazing.” I tear my eyes away from the ball of light and look at Max. “I can’t believe that worked.”
“That was really good for your first time.” He sounds reluctantly impressed, and I can’t pass up the opportunity to tease him.
“You might be surprised to know you’re not the first guy who’s said that to me.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.
Max laughs. It’s the first time I’ve seen his face in anything other than a scowl, and I’m again taken aback by how good-looking he is when he’s not glowering at me. “Oh, really?”
“I’m a woman—or reaper—of many talents, it seems.”
He snorts, but some of the laughter still lingers around the corners of his mouth, and in the glow of his ocean blue eyes. Holding my gaze, he reaches out and wraps his fingers around my wrist. “Close your hand.”
