Page 210

Eighth attempt. This time I stop watching him. That's the problem. I've been waiting for his reaction. Trying to predict his correction. Trying to beat him to it. Instead I focus entirely on myself. Breathing. Pulse. Magic. Pressure. I push. Rhyven meets it. Not against. With. For half a second it works. Crimson and gold touch. Neither disappears. Neither overwhelms the other. Professor Vayne steps closer. "Hold." My breathing slows. Rhyven's does too. Not intentionally. I think. The pressure changes. I adjust. He adjusts. Again. Something strange happens. The magic between us stops feeling like two forces. Not one. Never one. But...Aligned. Like two blades resting perfectly against one another. I feel his next adjustment before he makes it. My hand moves. His follows. The energy shifts left. We both correct right. Professor Vayne goes completely silent.

I look at Rhyven. His expression has changed. Barely. He feels it too. I know he does. Not because he tells me. Because for the first time since I've known him Rhyven looks uncertain.

"Hold." Professor Vayne repeats. Quietly now. The room has become strangely silent. Other exercises have stopped. Students are watching. I don't care. Something is happening. Something I don't understand. The crimson around my fingers stretches toward the gold surrounding Rhyven's hands. Not reaching. Responding. His magic changes. Heat rolls through the space between us. My Blood Echo should recoil. Blood magic and dragon magic don't complement one another. We've studied this. Every manifestation carries its own magical structure. Some cooperate. Some conflict. Some simply coexist. These two should coexist. Nothing more.

Instead, mine recognizes his. My heart kicks. Rhyven's head tilts slightly. "Don't move." He says quietly.

"I'm not."

"Your pulse changed."

I stare at him. "How the hell do you know that?"

He doesn't answer. Then I feel it. Not his magic. Him. A sensation flashes through my mind. Too fast to understand. Heat. Wind. Height. A heartbeat that isn't mine. No. Two. One human. One—I gasp.

The connection snaps. Magic explodes outward. Professor Vayne shouts something. The floor disappears beneath me. I'm thrown backward. Except...I never hit it. An arm catches around my waist. Hard. Fast. Rhyven. He twists before we land, taking most of the impact against his shoulder.

The room erupts. Students shouting. Professor Vayne ordering everyone back. My ears ring. For several seconds I can't breathe. I can still feel something. A ghost of heat inside my mind. Not mine. Rhyven releases me immediately once he realizes I'm steady. "Look at me." I do. "Are you hurt?"

"No." I answer.

"Head?" I shake my head slightly. "Vision?"

"Fine."

"Hands."

"What?" I frown.

"Your hands."

I look down. No burns. No blood. Nothing. Only faint crimson light disappearing beneath my skin. "I'm fine."

He studies me for another second. Then finally looks toward Professor Vayne. "What happened?" Professor Vayne doesn't answer. He's staring at the floor. I follow his gaze. The overlapping circles beneath us...Are glowing. Crimson. And gold. Not separately. Interwoven. My stomach drops.

Professor Vayne crouches. Touches two fingers to the edge of the circle. The light flickers. Then disappears. He stands. "Everyone out." No one moves. "Now!" That works. Students gather their things immediately. Whispers explode the second the doors open. I hear pieces. "Was that supposed to happen?" No. It absolutely was not.

I look toward Rhyven. He's watching Professor Vayne. Not me. His jaw is tight. Very tight. "Professor." Vayne walks toward the doors. Locks them. Turns. Only three of us remain. My pulse begins climbing again.

"What happened?" I ask.

Professor Vayne looks at me. Then Rhyven. "I don't know." Those four words frighten me more than anything else could. Professors always know. Or pretend to. Vayne isn't pretending.

"Has that happened before?" Rhyven asks.

"No." Vayne's tone is cold.

"With any manifestations?"

"No."

"Any House combination?"

"No." Vayne's answer is quieter.

"Historical record?" Vayne hesitates. That's enough. Rhyven notices too. "What." Professor Vayne walks toward his desk.

"I said I don't know."