The professor’s mouth pinches, but he moves on. The rest of the warm-up is more of the same: light a practice torch with a spark; shift a pebble with telekinesis; balance a rune in yourpalm without frying it. All the little tricks they’ve clearly been doing since they could toddle around in mage diapers.
I fail every single one, becausehello—born on exile fucking island where magic literally goes to die.
Finally, the professor claps his hands once, sharp. “Form up. Now we fight and you will give it your all.”
Now we’re talking.
Pairs are called. Students slide down to the central ring, the floor’s runes flaring faintly to life under their boots. The magic here is thick, like the air is holding its breath, waiting to see who bleeds first.
When my name is called, my opponent is a tall, narrow-shouldered boy with pale hair and the kind of smug face that makes you want to break it just to see if he can still smirk afterward.
“No magic for you either, Caelum,” Professor Orrith says, his voice like gravel ground against steel.
Caelum smirks and rolls his shoulders as if limbering up for a workout he’s already bored of. “Guess I’ll keep it light, then. Wouldn’t want to break her on her first day.”
My mouth curls slowly. “Aw, that’s adorable.”
The second the professor calls “begin,” he starts circling me. His posture loose, like this is a warm-up for him and a lesson for me. His eyes flicker over my hands, my boots, my stance, judging everything he sees.
I move before he finishes that little assessment.
One step inside his guard, my hand catches his wrist and twists. Not enough to snap it, just enough to lock him in place.
My palm drives up into his jaw in the same breath, forcing his head back hard enough to make bone crack. Before the sound’s even finished, my other hand’s already drawn the dagger from my thigh.
The blade flashes once. Quick and clean across his throat.
Three seconds.
He collapses to the floor with a wet, choking gasp, blood blooming bright against the black stone. His wide eyes fixate on me but quickly lose focus.
I crouch beside him and tap his cheek. “What was that now?”
Gasps erupt around the room, sharp and panicked. A chair screeches back, someone shouts for a healer, and the faint metallic tang of blood floods the air. The runes on the floor flare to life in a blaze of gold, binding my arms to my sides in a cage of light.
I glance down at them and smirk. “Cute trick. Are these magical bars?”
The heavy doors at the far end of the chamber slam open.
And what do you fucking know. It’s the bossy big brother himself.
Creed walks in like the room was built to make an entrance for him.
Honestly, it might have been. What do I know about royal rituals and whatnot? Never had one of those on the island before.
His long coat sweeps behind him as he moves with the kind of stillness that makes everyone else feel like they’re fidgeting too much. The ropes pinning me don’t disappear, but they yank my arms back out of his way.
His eyes find me instantly. “Of course it’s you.”
I grin at him, leaning forward just enough to make the chains hum. “You’re a real dick, you know that?”
The entire room gasps, an actual wave of sound rolling through the students. I’m confused until I remember this is one of their kings.
I’m guessing kings don’t get talked to like this. At least not in public or without repercussion anyway.
Creed doesn’t react in the slightest, his gaze never breakingfrom mine as he speaks to the rest of the room. “Class dismissed. This little thing is coming with me.” Without another word, he turns on his heel and stalks toward the door. He must just assume I’ll follow because he doesn’t check to see if I’m behind him.
The ropes vanish with a hiss, and I roll my shoulders. “If I had known you were the school’s new babysitter, I would have tried harder to kill the guy. Make your little trip down here worthwhile.”
