Page 50 of A Witch and Her Dragon
On second thought, maybe I should’ve talked to Lyra instead. She’d have at least sided with me—though I know Maeve speaks the truth. Raelan said as much that afternoon after leaving his family’s apartment.
“I don’t know... Maybe. But why kiss me at all if he’s only going to pull away? I mean, we’ve barely even spoken since the runeball game. It’s almost like we’re strangers again.”
The idea that Raelan may never kiss me again, may never trace his hands along my waist or breathe his warm breath over my neck, makes me ache deep in my chest. He’s right outside the library, yet I yearn for him as though I’ve not seen him in years. How is it that he can make me feel so lonely while standing right beside me?
“It’s probably a lot harder for him than it is for you. If you get caught, nothing bad will actually happen. But if he gets caught, he could lose everything he’s worked for.”
I let out a long sigh. Maeve’s right. And it makes me feel like a spoiled brat.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper, keeping my voice down as a few students walk past our table, purple-trimmed robes flapping. Fourth-years, then. “It would be best to keepour distance from each other, but...” Heat rises in my stomach. “But I want him so bad. I’ve never felt like this before, aboutanyone.”
Maeve’s smile slips, transforming into a thoughtful frown. “I don’t know. But it’s obvious he wants you too, even if you don’t see it. From my perspective, it’s impossible not to notice.” She reaches across the table and puts her hand atop mine. “Maybe you just need to give it time. And if you’re meant to be together, things will work out.”
My chest grows tight.
“And if we’re not?” I whisper.
This time Maeve doesn’t reply. She just squeezes my hand a little. And I’m not sure if it makes me feel better or worse.
“Well, I know what’ll make you feel better,” she says.
I arch a brow at her.
Still holding my hand, she pushes up from the table and tugs me to my feet. “Come on. Get your books and your knight.” The smile on her lips is playful. “We’re gonna go practice magic.”
DESPITE THE WIND AND THE bite to the air, I find myself standing on Coven Crest’s runeball field—though this time, there aren’t any players sprinting across the runes and calling out to one another, no cheers from the crowd in the stands. It’s just me, Maeve, and Lyra. Poppy was busy with a special study group and couldn’t join us.
Raelan watches us from a distance, leaning on the low metal fence encircling the field. When I glance at him, I find his eyes trained on the cloudy gray sky, and I wonder if he’s wishing he could spread his wings and fly away.
Maeve catches me looking his way and gives me one of her knowing eyebrow arches, and after that, I keep my focus on the arcane sphere.
It sits on the damp grass between us, a simple ball made of some sort of firm material, waiting to be sent flying with a burst of magic or someone’s well-aimed kick. None of us have touched it yet.
“So, what are we doing here, exactly?” I ask, reaching up to pull my long hair into a ponytail so it’ll stay out of my face.
“Practicing our magic,” Maeve states simply with a shrug of her shoulders. Then her violet eyes flash. “And having some fun.” She flicks her wrist, and a gust of wind whips around the arcane sphere, sending it up into the air. “The goal is to keep the arcane sphere in the air using nothing but our magic.”
The three of us tilt our heads up to look at it. And as it starts to plummet back toward the field, a little burst of excitement zips through my veins. This should be fun.
I hold my hand out, intending to strike it to keep it aloft with a burst of frost magic, but Lyra beats me to it. A stream of fire streaks from her palm, setting the sphere alight and knocking it flying.
Maeve’s eyes meet mine. “Well?” she says, gesturing across the field. “Aren’t you going to get it?”
Without wasting another moment, I break into a run, keeping my eye on the sphere as it slows and starts to fall back toward me. Legs still pumping beneath me, I yell back, “Damn you, Lyra!”
Behind me, Lyra cackles.
As the sphere falls, I hold up my hands and call on my magic. Frost swirls across my palms, cold like the first kiss of winter. I focus, eyes locked on the sphere. Then I send my magic shooting toward the sphere, intending to knock it up into the air and back toward Maeve.
But instead, I hit it much too hard, my magic swirling out of my hands in uncontained bursts, and the arcane sphere zooms into the air and toward the far end of the field.
Slowing my pace and gasping for air, I let out a groan.
“Guess you haven’t been listening in Professor Stone’s class!” Lyra yells, her voice and laughter carrying across the runeball field. “You’re supposed to ground yourself first, Miss Ravenscroft!”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, stepping back into a slow jog to go retrieve the sphere from where it landed on the other side of the field.
Lyra and I both have trouble containing our elemental magic, but at least mine doesn’t have the potential to set our dorm room aflame. Which she has certainly almost done—on multiple occasions now.
