Page 56 of Every Shade of Shadow

It’s a long day. There’s no Black Arts class, no Professor or private lesson tonight. I don’t see him in the halls—only in my mind, those bottle-green eyes taking in every inch of me, every detail as I unraveled before him.

It’s the common area where I first get my true taste of Cassandra the Fucking Bitch.

Newly discovered, the common area is set across two levels, a mezzanine with a shelf of books. There’s even a coffee machine. The lower level is a lounge of sorts with the kind of cozy old castle chairs you could happily sink into and churn through half a novel, which is precisely what I intend to do to take my mind off a certain dark professor.

That’s until this Cassandra arrives.

She glides into the common area, that silver-blonde hair swaying behind her like a cloud, icy gaze scanning the space. When she spots me curled up in an armchair by the fireplace, a smirk tugs at her lips.

My fingers tighten around Gran’s grimoire in my lap.

I’ll pound this bitch to death with it if I have to.

I don’t know what her problem is with me, but I won't give her the satisfaction of a reaction. I have better things to do.

"My, my." Her melodic, sing-song voice cuts through the silence. "So the imposter thinks she can learn real magic."

Hard cringe.

Here we go.

But like prison, you can’t show weakness lest you spend the next three years tugging on someone’s pocket.

I slam the grimoire shut and hold a hand up. “Look, Cassandra, is it? I don’t know what your deal is, or why you’re taking it out on me, but can we, like, just not do this, skip past the whole ‘you’re new and I’m the mean girl’ thing? We’re all adults here, right?”

“It’s got nothing to do with the fact you’re new,” she says, voice light and easy. “It’s that you simply don’t belong.”

Fuck this. If she wants to play, I’ll bite. This isn’t high school.

I place the grimoire down and get to my feet because yeah, screw this bitch. I don’t know anything about her, of course, but I take a stab all the same. “I hear you rely on your family name to mask your inadequacies."

I’m thinking that might be too intellectual for her, but she seems to understand well enough.

She glares at me, her eyes dagger sharp. Even in the dim light, that Elsa ice-fortress hair glows like spun moonlight as she tosses her head in challenge.

My fingers curl into fists, nails biting into my palms. I’ve dealt with girls like this my entire life. Nine times out of ten they kicked my ass, yes, but it didn’t stop me trying to fight back.

I stride to the center of the room to meet her, my boots thudding against the stone floor. “Care for a little friendly competition, Thornwood?” My voice comes out harsh and jagged.

Cassandra’s lips curl into a sneer. “Please. Don’t embarrass yourself.” She joins me, the skirts of her dress swirling around her legs. “But okay, I’ll humor you, lowborn slut, because you are, aren’t you? Lowborn inanis. Rumor is you were getting evicted before you showed up here to suck dick.”

This is pretty juvenile, sure, but something about it gets right under my skin. I’m not just going to stand here and ignore it.

Rage boils in my veins, scalding and venomous, spurring me on.

And how does she know about the eviction? I don’t have time to speculate. It’s time for action.

Time for practice.

“Enough talk.” I raise my hands, gathering my power.

This is fucking madness. I’ve only really read of magical duels. Like most things in my life, it’s all theoretical, but I feel more confident today, more reckless.

Others get up from their seats and make for the perimeter of the room.

The air around us builds with energy as Cassandra channels.

Her first spell shoots toward me, a blast of frozen wind and shards of glass. I throw my hands up and erect an energy shield, Scutum Protegens, deflecting the spell, but the force of it rocks me back a step. Gritting my teeth, I hurl a fireball at her in retaliation with a grunt, my spellcasting not exactly perfect, but it will have to do.

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