I rolled my eyes. “What exactly is forbidden, then?”
“Good question,” she replied, the grin leaving her face. “Best to learn that sooner than later, especially hexes.”
The word caught my interest.
“Remember when I told you about the illegal crafts?” Finnegan asked from his place on the bench, leaning back against the wall. “Torture is possible through a hex. All hexes are considered illegal crafts. They are forbidden, with exceptions. Some are outlawed because of their consequences, like the Praeruptum Hex for time manipulation. No mageborn is allowed to interfere with the threads of time. But the good thing is, it’s extremely difficult to do. Thankfully, only a handful are capable of that.”
Distracted, I nearly missed the next punch Gwinifer threw, blocking it just in time. She bowed her head in silent approval.
“There are the obvious hexes for necromancers that can raise the dead. Even fewer people can manage this one, and magisters treat it as one of the greatest offences in magecraft. Every single hex comes with a natural cost to even the scores.” He paused,his voice reluctant. “The same goes for ending someone’s life. It’s called Morscium, the death hex.”
Gwin signalled for us to stop; every trace of amusement had drained from her face. “And with that, we’re done for today, Red.”
???
The next day, Reagan joined us, and we ran through the same warm-ups before pairing off for sparring. Gwinifer paired with me, saying the gentlemen wouldn’t do me any favours by going easy.
I agreed with her, appreciating the way she pushed me. Each strike was precise, as if she were testing my limits, not treating me like a defenceless person.
She’d show me each move slowly, then let me mimic her. More often than not, my own lack of control ended up hurting me more than her punches. Still, she managed to catch me on the chin, the arm, and several times sent me to the mat. I’d pant, mutter a few cursed words, but each time, I’d get back up.
Then came the jab that caught me off guard. A sharp pain shot through my side, intense enough to make me sink to the mat and stay. I struggled to catch my breath while Gwinifer crouched beside me, guiding me on how to breathe through the pain.
“Focus on your breath,” Gwinifer instructed, placing a firm hand on my back to guide my inhales. “Mind over matter. Think of it loosening, leaving you. It will pass. Keep that in mind.”
I followed her advice, taking short, controlled breaths, focusing on the idea that the sting would fade.
Moments later, we were back on our feet.
Across the room, Finn and Reagan sparred on a different level, not because they were men, but because they flung. The sudden vanishing of one, the electric tension between them, kept pulling my eyes. Fast. Fluid. Their leaps behind each other left me struggling to follow. Muscles shifted beneath their shirts, a warning of surprise blows I’d prefer not to feel aimed at me.
My awe was cut short by hard knuckles slamming into my shoulder, knocking me off balance. The impact reverberated through my entire arm.
“Damn it!” I cursed, the roughness in my voice catching everyone’s attention. “Thathurt!”
“Good,” Gwinifer replied with a smirk like a coiled viper. “Maybe you will stop gawking at the pretty boys and focus.”
Not surprisingly, Reagan and Finn halted their sparring to look in our direction. I simply replied, “Thanks for that.”
“Well, we’re not finished yet, are we?” she asked.
I caught Finn at the edge of my vision, his head low as if to hide a smirk, pretending to dry off sweat. Reagan had no such politeness. His arms were folded, and an unapologetic grin stretched across his face.
Their amusement only fuelled me more. I wanted to hit her, be faster, stronger.
The most unsettling thing was not the number of bruises taking root on my arms and the one on my chin. The strange thing was that I wasactuallystarting to like her. The more she taunted me about my punches or teased me by askingif I was trying not to break a nail,the more it drove me. Somehow, the anger was shifting to something else, something almost...rewarding.
So each morning had been like this. Dawn with Gwinifer, sparring and taking blows that left me bruised but oddly exhilarated, then limping off to bathe before joining whoever was still around for breakfast.
During the rest of the day, I pored over books in the study or sprawled in my room, reading any romance or mystery novels I could find.
I’d started to look forward to the training, the tough words and bruises, feeling a little less like a target, a little more capable with each day.
???
I’d just left my room in a hurry after bathing, heading toward the dining room where I knew some of the staff would be setting up for breakfast.
Reagan was on my mind. I planned to talk to him about something that had gnawed at me since I’d learned he’d sent money to my family.
