Page 47 of Baneful Magick

"Says the witch at a mixed-supernatural school," I replied blandly, refusing to take the bait.

She pursed her lips. "Doesn't mean I'd fuck one of them."

"I don't know why you keep acting like you’re important in any way at this school," Wells interjected. "You just got here like the rest of us. You don't know shit about this place."

"Oooh, so the Hawthorne is finally speaking up. Figures you can't pick out therightkind of friends. Witches belong with witches. That mixed-breed trash doesn't count. You could dosomuch better."

"Meaning you?" he drawled, his face flushed with anger. My hands fisted under the table, nails biting into my palm. I was working so hard to fight the urge to just deck the bitch right here. Something about her hitting on Wells, more than insulting me, made me want to punch her.

"You know where to find me when you come back to your senses. After all, our families already?—"

"I am not obligated to obey my family's wishes any longer, something you should consider before you complete that train of thought. I will get you nowhere in that societal standing bullshit you care so much about."

My eyebrows weren't the only ones raised. My suitemates were waiting with bated breath, looking between the two witches, until the blonde huffed and stomped off like a two-year-old.

"Well,thatwas fun." Zhara's eyes flicked back between the two of us.

"I need to get some work done before class tomorrow," Wells muttered. His shoulders tense and movements choppy, he ate the last sushi roll and grabbed his stuff. "I'll see you all later.”

My hands unclenched, and I started to reach for him, but he moved too fast. I was tempted to follow after the bully, but I knew from my own experience that tracking them down wouldn’t help anything. We called out goodbye, but he was out the door before I could even really process that he was leaving.

Aizel attempted to break the tension. "How much poison would it take to make her shut the fuck up?"

"As in death, or just making her really fucking sick?" I asked before taking a loud sip of my boba tea. Part of me was curious what his answer would be, and the rest of me was seriously debating how I could accomplish it. For Wells, I would consider it. How I’d gotten so attached so quickly, I had no idea. I’d never been one to form relationships this easily, but I was realizing that there were several people at Greywood who’d gotten under my skin in all kinds of ways.

Aizel blinked slowly, startled by my serious tone.

"Really fucking sick would be better. We haven't even been here a full week." Echo licked his lips, his eyes darting back and forth between his shocked twin and me. "Better to pace ourselves with the whole murder thing."

"I guess. But to answer your question, it wouldn't take much. I'd just need to see what plants they have here while one of you causes a good distraction."

"We should have this conversation somewhere else." Zhara glanced around, alerting me to the fact that we probably had eavesdroppers.

"I'm going to check on Wells," I told them, finishing off my tea and grabbing my trash. "Plus, I need to go to the library to finish off the last bit of this paper. I’m almost done, so it shouldn’t take long."

“I knew you fell asleep earlier!” Aizel called me out.

I playfully glared at Aizel as he smirked. It was like having Demir here with me; he acted just like my older brother.

"See you back at the suite!" Zhara waved me off.

Before I hurried away, I swore I saw jealousy on Echo’s face. A pang hit my chest, but he looked away to his brother, and the moment seemed to pass.

I threw my trash away and headed toward the library, hoping that it wouldn't take long to find Wells.

That girl had really gotten under his skin.

The quad was practically empty and so was the library when I got there. Quietly, I searched the study areas, trying to find my friend, but came up empty handed.Maybe he went back to his dorm to cool down?

Just as I was about to give up, a loud sound drew my attention. I tried to pinpoint where it was coming from and caught a cracked door further down. It was one of the study rooms students had to reserve.

Unable to hold my curiosity in check, I tiptoed up to the door and peeked inside.

Wells sat at the desk, pulling at his hair. His books were scattered all over the floor, and loose paper fluttered to the ground as I stepped inside.

“Wells?” I said his name cautiously, not sure what was going on.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Wells ground out. His usually gentle voice was gravelly and strained.

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