Page 17 of First Ritual

I arched a brow. “Grimoire, I take?”

She wagged her brows. “How did you guess? Take the next right to get to the food. And I’ll pass the word around that you prefer to be called Bronte.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

She walked on.

I followed her direction and my nose. The doors here were closer together. The rooms must be smaller, probably for novices.

My footsteps and breathing were no longer audible over the din ahead, and I entered into a low-ceilinged chamber. Stone and quartz columns connected the ceiling and floor reminding me of a melted cheese sandwich pulled apart. The columns obscured my view of the other side. Tables were spaced between the columns wherever they could fit.

To my left was a large area dotted with lounge chairs and beanbags.

I drifted between the tables filled with chatting and eating magus and returned greetings as I went. Following the loudest clanging, I found three tables. One of fruit and vegetables, one of hot drinks and juices, and one of cooked food and bread.

Yes. Much yes.

After loading a plate with sausage, egg, bread, and some melon, I scanned the closest tables, battling the urge to rub my chest.

Wild sat at a table with three other men around his age. One was lean-muscled like Wild while the others were the hulking type a lot of women preferred.

Consider me surprised that Wild had friends. Being so wild and all.

I grinned.

At my own joke.

Again.

I had a problem.

Sitting at an empty table would suit my languid mood this morning, but I was here for a reason. Seeing as my purple-haired cousin was nowhere in sight, I’d have to start someplace else.

Spotting a sole empty spot at a table filled with shouting and laughing magus, I plastered a smile on my dial and approached.

“Hey,” I said to the woman across the table when she caught my eye. “Mind if I join?”

The woman beamed and gestured to the empty seat.

The guy next to me turned as I slid my tray in place. “You prefer Bronte, right?”

Word spread fast. “That’s me. Have we met?”

He cocked a brow, chuckling. “I guess it’ll be like that for you for a while, huh? We grew up with all these people.” The guy, maybe a little older than me, dusted breadcrumbs off his hand and extended it to me. “Name’s Bedwyr.”

“Bedwyr.” I liked his vibe. I was guessing battle affinity? Maybe divination too. “Nice to meet you. Can you help a gal out and tell me if there’s a trick to the layout of this place?”

“There’s a map over on the far wall.”

“Really?” I craned to see.

“Nope.” He cracked a grin.

I narrowed my eyes, lips curving. “Picking on the new girl already.” He was kind of cute. Not that I’d let him distract me any more than Wild, but eyes were for lookin’.

He put an entire fried egg in his mouth, chewed once, swallowed, then wiped his hands again. “Let me see if I can do a thing.” He opened a saltshaker and twirled a finger in the air. The salt rose in a stream to his command. He directed half to form a floating square. “You enter the knoll into tunnels laid out like this.” He made a second square with the rest of the salt. He twisted it forty-five degrees so the two floating squares formed an eight-pointed star. “This is the bird’s eye view of the caves, but in reality, the second square is beneath the first square. Stairs connect the two tunnel systems at each point on the star.”

I’d walked down stairs on the way here.

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