Page 79 of The Black Witch

An easy grin spreads over his handsome face. He gives me a once-over. “No, I am not relieved,” he says smoothly. “Now that you’re no longer covered in dirt, I think it’s quite a pity we’re not wandfasted.”

I swallow, my face warming at his close proximity. My eyes dart down his chest to the sleek wand fastened at his waist. I remember Fallon’s ball of ice. “Show me something,” I say, gesturing toward his wand. “Show me some of your magic.”

His smile is slow as his eyes flick over me. He pulls the wand into his hand in one smooth motion. Holding it loosely, he steps back and points it at me, murmurs words in the Ancient Tongue, then takes a deep breath and straightens up, as if pulling power up from his feet.

Translucent black lines curl out from the wand tip, fluidly making their way toward me.

I gasp as they flow and curl around my body. At first I feel a gentle pressure from them, tickling at my skin, teasing.

And then they tighten.

It’s impossible to resist as the swirling lines pull at my waist, my arms, my legs. I find it both exciting and disconcerting to be so much in his power. My feet skid over the grassy ground as he pulls me closer, until I’m right before him. Once there, he flicks his wrist, and the black lines dissolve as he languidly wraps his arms around me.

“That’s amazing,” I breathe, in awe of him.

Lukas smiles and brings his lips to mine.

* * *

It’s late when Lukas finally walks me the rest of the way to the North Tower.

I watch him as he leaves, striding down the sloping field toward the University city’s twinkling lights, his cloak flapping behind him like dark wings.

I reach up to absentmindedly touch my mouth, my lips still warm and swollen from his fevered kisses. But my feelings of bliss begin to evaporate like smoke as I watch him disappear from view.

Darkly resolved, I take a deep breath, turn and make my way into the tower.

* * *

When I enter my room, it’s dark and they’re there, waiting for me. I can see Ariel’s outline, crouched below the window as she was the night before. Wynter huddles on her bed, appearing as if she wants to be anywhere but where she is, silver eyes peeking out over her wings, wide with fear.

I hesitate, Wynter’s terror giving me momentary pause.

Stop it,I tell myself. These aren’t Urisk children. These are Icaral demons.

I ignore Ariel and walk over to the lamp on one of the desks, lighting it quickly with Bornial flint, the Elvish stones sparking to a small flame when tapped together.

An eerie, reddish glow soon covers the room, making Ariel look even more demonic. She creeps toward me slowly, perhaps expecting the same reaction she got out of me last night. I turn to face her, my hand flat on the desk, eyeing her calmly, trying to control the anger welling up within me and the trembling of my hands.

“It would be a shame if the Gardnerian girl caught fire while she was sleeping,” Ariel whispers as she straightens up, unfurling her tattered black wings. She takes another threatening step toward me. “Burning is so painful. I wonder how long she would scream. How long it would take a Gardnerian to die...”

Something snaps within me as Ariel unexpectedly lunges forward. I push her away from me so hard, she falls onto the floor.

It’s a shock to see her there. I’ve never pushed anyone over in my entire life, and my own violence frightens me for a moment.

Ariel hisses up at me, her eyes in tight, evil slits.

“Leave mealone!” I warn, bumping against a bedpost as I back away. “If you so much as come near me, I will go straight to the Mage Council. They will throw you back in the sanitorium, where youbelong, and cut off those foul wings of yours. You’ll spend the rest of your life rotting in an empty cell, going even crazier than you already are!”

“Thendo it, Gardnerian!” she snarls with as much venom as she can muster. “It would be well worth hearing you scream!”

“I’ll also go to the Elves!” I cry, pointing at Wynter. “I’ll tell them that Wynter Eirllyn attacked me, as well!”

“Wynter won’t be the one to attack you!” Ariel screams as Wynter lets out a small cry and cowers on her bed. “Iwill!”

“They won’t know that!” I threaten. “Just like that Kelt professor believedyou, they’ll believeevery word I say.”

As my words register, her attempt to look frightening collapses in on itself, morphing into one of sheer horror, her wings falling to hang limply behind her.

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