Page 113 of Wicked Heirs

This was another step on the way toward doing that even more so.

Magic in Combat.

It was one of the advanced classes here at Electi Academy.

After our flying session the other night, he’d pointed out to me that my magic was already at a state of being able to entertain combat scenarios. Of course, he’d brought up my takedown of Talon as obvious proof of that, along with Talon and Xavier boasting on my behalf about my magical models and the control and detail that I was producing now.

I’d also confessed to Orpheus as to why I hadn’t made it obvious during any of my classes or to any of my professors as to what level I was now able to operate at, what I was now no longer afraid to operate at.

The reason was my concern about my control being harder to maintain during a combat scenario. It was a much more reactionary thing, which meant I had to have supreme control in every moment, with every move I made, something that I couldn’t always know beforehand, especially if I was reacting in response to an opponent.

Making a compromise, I’d agreed to come with Orpheus to his class and observe from the sidelines so I could see how it worked, how it was taught, and what I’d really be in for.

Sometimes fears were worse in our minds than they were in reality.

Sometimes.

Unfortunately, the only way to know if that was the case here was to put it to the test.

I stood watching the dozen or so students in the middle of the arena-like space, a space I’d never been to before, not even during my tour. Maybe the dean hadn’t wanted to put ideas in my head because I’d been volatileandon edge back when I’d first started here.

Either way, I was here now and Orpheus had gotten permission from the Professor who taught this course to allow me in to observe and take everything in.

Edgar Marlowe was a former Commander of the Dark Fae Army. Word had it—according to rumor and the bits and pieces that Orpheus had told me when I’d asked the other night—that Marlowe and the King of the Dark Fae had suffered from a majorfalling outconcerning conflicting ideologies.It had been so severe that he’d not only resigned his position as Commander, but he’d also left the Dark Fae Realm altogether and come here to teach.

He was there in the thick of it now as the students mock-battled, a veritable multi-colored lightshow taking place as magic flew everywhere. Bolts of colored flames slammed intomagically-generated shields, along with a couple of solid metal ones that provided protection against magical attacks. Some students were also wielding broadswords and battling with those, imbuing them with their magic. I saw one sword wrapped in purple flames like a sword of fire and I smiled as I made out Orpheus through the organized chaos, identifying him as its wielder. He swung and spun the sword with the fluidity and know-how of an expert swordsman. It was a truly impressive display, and his opponent, a sorcerer wielding yellow-colored magic, shrank back at the threat of his experience and skill.

Within a moment, he had the flaming blade just an inch from the guy’s throat.

His opponent knew when he was beaten and raised his hands instantly, snuffing out his magic and then laying down his sword.

Orpheus stepped back, then swung his head my way, smirking.

I rolled my eyes. He was far too happy that I’d witnessed his victory.

Before he could revel in it, Professor Marlowe stepped into the fray to take him on, the guy sporting a silver buzz cut that gave him a natural harshness and made his vibrant-green eyes seem shrewd and dangerous. He was all muscle and bulk, very similar to Orpheus’ build, and he was decked out in a pair of tactical pants, a muscle tee, and a matching aviator jacket.

Orpheus’ smirk widened and excitement lit his eyes at the challenge from him.

Of course the arrogant shit already thought he’d won before the battle had even begun.

Truth be told, I actually liked that about him. His sheer confidence and the unapologetic way he wielded it turned me on. And right now was definitely no exception.

My neck heated and I shifted my weight against the wall, trying to shake it off and focus on observing everything that I could from this session ofMagic in Combat.

But I just couldn’t tear my eyes from the battle that had just begun between the former Commander and the Dark Fae Prince.

The match up alone was one for the ages.

Everyone in the room had clearly recognized that, because they ceased their own battles and sparring and then whispers broke out as they all gathered around to watch.

Orpheus made a dramatic show of shrugging off his favored black and silver blazer and tossing it to one of the fawning Light Fae magic-wielders in the crowd, who caught it and scented it happily. And then he shoved up the sleeves of his black shirt, adjusted his silver leather pants, then looked out at me and winked.

In the next moment, he and Marlowe called their magic at the same time, Orpheus’ palms glowing with his purple fire, and Marlowe’s with a light neon-green.

Marlowe went for it first, throwing a bolt.

Orpheus was ready, though, sidestepping it, then firing his own, two from either palm.

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