Page 3 of Revenge is a Witch

I glance at Hank. "That’s basically an A+ coming from him."

Hank grins, pulling out his phone as soon as Grimble moves on. "Back to more important things," he says, typing away.

I roll my eyes. "You’re so fucking hopeless."

As class winds down, I pack up my things, feeling pretty good about the day’s work. No explosions, no weird side effects. I’ll call that a win.

Red Stockings

Do you know what’s interesting aboutChronicles of Arcane Historyclass? Absolutely fucking nothing.

That’s the first thing I think as I slump into my seat, shooting a look at Sam beside me. She’s already halfway through doodling in the margins of her notebook, and I can’t blame her. This class is notorious for being as exciting as watching paint dry. If paint was ancient, magical, and mostly irrelevant to our daily lives.

The room itself is one of the larger lecture halls, with tiered seating and walls covered in tapestries depicting great magical battles and treaties between different species—like we’re supposed to beinspiredor something. Honestly, all it does is remind me how long these classes feel. In front of us, Professor Elowen glides in like a breeze, her long flowing robes sweeping behind her. She’s tall and elegant, with silver-streaked hair and a no-nonsense vibe that commands attention. Think Galadriel, but with a glare that could turn you to stone.

“Elowen’s looking cheery today,” I mutter to Sam as I drop my bag next to my desk.

Sam stifles a giggle. “Maybe today she’ll surprise us with something exciting.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Inthisclass? Doubt it.” Just as I finish whispering, Kyla strolls in, looking like she just stepped out of some perfect witch fashion magazine. Her hair is flawless, every strand in place, and her clothes? Not a wrinkle in sight. She takes her usual spot at the front, casting a casual glance back at me, like she’s already planning her next move.

“Morning, Zaria,” she says, with that fake sweetness that always makes my skin crawl. “I see you’ve chosen your usual spot in the back. Keeps expectations low, right?”

I give her a thin smile. “Well, someone’s gotta watch your back. Don't want anyone to stab it before I get a chance to.” The class bursts into quiet laughter, a few people exchanging amused glances. Even Sam snickers beside me. Kyla’s smile falters for just a second before she smooths it over, clearly unamused but too proud to let it show.

Professor Elowen steps to the front, her cool voice slicing through the laughter. “Settle down, everyone. We’re here to learn, not trade insults.” Her gaze lingers on me and Kyla for a moment, and I can tell she’s warning me not to push it. Fine. For now.

Kyla sits up straighter, flicking her hair over her shoulder like she’s some kind of royal in a court full of peasants. “Speaking of learning,” she says, voice dripping with condescension, “I’m justsoeager to see what new knowledge we’ll be absorbing today. Aren’t you, Zaria?”

I don’t miss a beat. “Oh, definitely. Can’t wait to learn something that isn’t just ‘how to be insufferably perfect in public.’ You’ll have to teach me that sometime, Kyla.” The class roars again, and even Elowen, though trying to keep a straight face, can’t hide the slight twitch of amusement on her lips. Kyla,however, narrows her eyes at me. This isn’t over. But for now, I’ve got the upper hand.

“Alright, enough,” Professor Elowen calls out, her voice firm. “Let’s focus, shall we?”

I lean back in my seat, grinning to myself as the room settles. Sam gives me a nudge. “You really need to stop poking the bear.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, she started it.” I say, my grin widening.

Elowen continues her lecture, diving into the history of the Fae Wars, but my attention drifts. Kyla’s little digs don’t usually bother me—I’m quick enough to shut her down before she gets too far—but lately, she’s been trying harder to one-up me, especially since we’re both witches. It’s like she thinks I’m competition. Which, in fairness, I probably am, but that’s her problem, not mine.

Next to me, Sam’s focus seems to be split between scribbling down notes and trying not to fall asleep. “What’s your grimoire looking like, by the way?” I whisper.

“Better than it did this morning, thanks to your promise to help me after dinner,” Sam whispers back. “I swear, if I don’t finish it by tomorrow, I’ll scream.”

I chuckle. “We’ll get it done. Don’t worry.”

Kyla raises her hand suddenly, and Elowen calls on her, of course. “Professor,” Kyla begins in her smooth, overly-polished tone, “don’t you think it’s important to acknowledge the impact of witches on the Arcane War, particularly our role in the eventual peace?”

She’s clearly showing off, and Elowen seems impressed. Typical.

I mutter under my breath, “Oh sure, Kyla, why don’t we just dedicate a whole class to how great witches are. Starting with you.”

Sam snorts, and I shoot her a grin. But of course, Kyla catches the whisper and shoots me a sharp look. She’s probably planning her next move, but I’m ready for it. Always am.

The class drags on, but I find myself strangely entertained by my own snarky commentary, mostly aimed at Kyla’s holier-than-thou attitude. Elowen’s lecture continues, detailing some ancient treaty between vampires and werewolves, but all I can think about is whether I’m going to survive the next hour without another jab from Kyla.

Honestly? Probably not. But at least I’ll have fun with it.

The cafeteria is exactly what you’d expect at a school filled with magical creatures—chaos. There’s no such thing as “calm” in this place. The noise alone could drive a banshee insane. The space is large, with rows of long tables filled with students, each one more colorful than the last. The walls are lined with murals of enchanted forests and shimmering lakes, but honestly, no one’s paying attention to the decor. The real show is the students themselves.

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