Page 20 of The Spell Caster

“One: stick to your routine. A scheduled bedtime helps you regulate your energy. Two: reach out to me or someone you trust if you’re having difficulty. And three: keep your hands off the spell casters.” Daire grinned.

The other guardians chuckled at the third guideline. I ground my teeth together against a flare of annoyance. Witches were all about freedom and choice until it came to their precious spell casters. Then it was you better not contaminate that gene pool with your Troubled DNA and don’t you dare distract our casters from their noble purpose.

From the moment I got to the Northern Sea Circle, they told me to keep away from Layla. But I never could follow directions.

Daire continued, “I hope the Mountain Circle will be a new start for you. I’d hate to lose any of you.”

The Troubled were too violent, too moody for polite witch society. For the ones who didn’t respond to therapy, being a guardian was our last chance to prove ourselves. It didn’t take much to get thrown out.

“All right.” She clapped her hands. “I’ll let you get some rest—you’ll need it, we’re about to put you on rotation. You’ll get your updated assignments in the morning, and then there’s an assembly.”

When Daire had closed the barracks doors again, I picked up my shattered phone and tapped at the screen carefully, trying to text Layla to see if she was okay.

Ash scoffed, peeling off their boots. “That’s it? No one’s worried about another attack?”

But my mind was already on other things. “Ash. You know anything about familiars?”

Chapter 5

LAYLA

Lughnasadh, the day of the first harvest festival, dawned clear and bright. In normal times, it would be a day for ritual and celebration. I didn’t know what kind of holiday we would have with everything going on. I hadn’t set an alarm, but I woke up to the sounds of people moving in the house and pulled on a linen summer dress to join them. It was a bit warmer here than back home.

“Hey, you don’t have time for breakfast,” Sativa said, looking me over. A crimson spell caster’s robe clung to her lithe body and flared out around her legs. “But I brought you a fruit bar.” She handed me the bar, wrapped in a cloth napkin.

“Thanks,” I said with a small smile. We didn’t seem that similar, but I liked her. “Are we in a hurry?”

“The Arcaenum is holding a general assembly this morning. We can go to the practice arena afterward. Datura and Oliver don’t believe you about the familiar thing. They want to see.”

“The Arcaenum?”

“It’s our elected council.”

Sativa led me out of the apartment and along the crowded walkways while I ate my fruit bar. Most everyone seemed to be going in the same direction. The fresh mountain air held a hint of a cool breeze.

“So, what’s your story? Do you have a lover or anything?” Sativa asked.

“No, nothing like that,” I said. I paused awkwardly before asking, “Do you?”

“Several,” she preened.

I could see why. She was confident and beautiful. No one had ever shown me much interest in that department—spell casters were discouraged from dating other witches, and I had a reputation for hanging out with the Troubled. With only ten casters in the Circle and a few more still in school, there wasn’t a large selection.

“I could hook you up,” Sativa offered. “I know everyone in the Mountain Circle. Do you have any preferences? We have a few hot casters who are unattached.”

I choked a little. “Thanks. I’m not really… looking right now.” If I could invoke my familiar, I would have cast a spell directly into the ground in hopes that the blast would make a giant hole to swallow me.

But… was I really not looking? I was in a new Circle. One with hot, single spell casters. There was nothing stopping me. In the past, I’d sometimes imagined meeting someone—I’d thought about going on dates and finding a lover. But now my feelings were in knots.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Sativa said.

“Morning!” Oliver called brightly as he and Datura joined us. They were both dressed in athletic training clothes, but Oliver had styled his short dark hair into loose waves.

We walked into a large amphitheater with seats built into the hill above the stage area. It was already crowded with witches.

“Hey, Screwup,” Datura said with a smirk.

Oliver gasped and smacked her arm. “D, be nice! She got attacked by like a hundred angels and fled for her life!”

---