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Dawson gave a nod, and when Obryn left, a malicious grin formed on Dawson’s face.
“This should be fun,” he said with glee.
5
The heat in Mira’s face rose, and it became increasingly difficult to contain her rage. Dawson, meanwhile, seemed in his element. The Shadowflame on his hand danced slowly across his alabaster skin. Like ink dissolving in water. It wasn’t violent this time. Somehow, that made it all the more intimidating. A slow and calculated rage. Contained for the moment but begging to be released.
“Feeling a little…off today, are we?” he asked with a grin. “Too much to drink last night?”
“You knew who I was.”
“Hard to forget the first student in Ivercrest history to just…appear in the Dark Magic Institute.”
The first. For some reason she had hoped there would have been others.
Mira gestured between them. “Did you ask for this?”
“Believe it or not, I have better things to do than train an infant Wielder. But I suppose I can take some time out of my day to watch you utterly fail.”
He circled her with slow, precise steps. His tight uniform displayed his lean muscles perfectly. He was a trained fighter. This was his world.
“Lovely,” she responded. “Why don’t you demonstrate while I ooh and ahh at your exquisite skills? I’ll tell you that you’re the most powerful Wielder to have ever graced this fine institution, and we can call it a day.”
He cocked his head, seeming to contemplate her proposition. “You left out most handsome. If you’re complimenting me, you might as well get it right.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to lie.”
He chuckled. “You have a sharp tongue for a Caster.”
“It must be impossible for you to fathom that women exist who do not worship the ground you walk on.”
With the elegance of a conductor his fingers moved, and one by one the ink of his signifiers and his Shadowflame began to dance. “Not impossible. I suppose there is a first for everything.”
She groaned. “Please, put me out of my misery and throw a spell at me. It must be less torturous than having a conversation with you.”
“As the lady wishes.”
Dark shadows shot at her with lightning speed. A Wielder’s powers looked like shadows but burned like flames. Out of reflex, she cast a simple redirection spell, which only required her White Magic. Dawson’s spell, aimed for her hand, landed with a crack by her foot, singeing the laces on her shoes. The air around her sizzled with his powers. Her heart hammered in her chest. She had just used magic. Only the second time since entering Ivercrest, and it still felt terrifying to have powers course through her veins again.
“Idiotic of me to assume you wouldn’t actually use Dark Magic against a fellow student,” she said, trying to look unfazed.
“Idiotic indeed. Especially since I recall you requesting it.”
“You could have hurt me.”
“It was barely charged, Winters.”
Hearing her name on his lips made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She didn’t like how comfortably he said it. She didn’t want it touching his tongue at all.
She pointed at her shoe. “You owe me new laces.”
He ignored her request. “I wanted to check your reflexes. Not bad for someone who hasn’t used magic in three years.”
The temperature in the room seemed to have cooled. Suddenly there was something much more sinister about the Dawson heir.
“How do you know that?”
Did he learn about her scar and her parents’ death? She felt naked. Exposed.
