Page 63 of Tempest Blazing
"I know you all see something in me. And maybe I'm starting to see it too. But I need to be sure," I said, standing up and pacing to the window. "The trials are coming, and I'm going to pass them. Whatever it takes."
Chapter 27
Tess
I slumped against the wall outside the classroom, my brain turned to mush. Two hours of Crisis Management Strategies had left me mentally drained, especially after the morning's Physical Training. Beside me, Anya looked irritatingly composed, her black hair still perfectly in place while mine had escaped its braid in at least twelve different places.
"How are you not exhausted?" I groaned, sliding down until I was sitting on the floor.
Anya's lips quirked in that subtle way that passed for a smile with her. "Necromancers don't get tired. We become more corpse-like."
I snorted. "Was that a joke? Did you make an actual joke?"
"Don't sound so surprised." She knelt beside me, her violet eyes studying my face. "You look terrible."
"Thanks. Needed that confidence boost before bootcamp."
Anya reached into her bag and pulled out a small vial with swirling purple contents. "Here. Restoration elixir. I made it last night when I couldn't sleep."
I hesitated. "Is this going to turn me into a zombie or something?"
"If I wanted to zombify you, I wouldn't waste my good elixir." She pressed it into my hand. "It's perfectly safe. I drink them all the time."
The fact that she'd thought to make this for me last night—before I'd even mentioned being tired—did something warm and unexpected to my chest. I uncorked the vial and downed it in one gulp. Warmth flooded through my limbs, washing the fog from my brain like a cool breeze.
"Holy shit, that's amazing." I blinked rapidly as energy coursed through me. "What's in this?"
"Trade secret." Anya stood and offered me her hand. "Come on. You've got training with Mason first. I'll meet you in the library afterward."
I took her hand and let her pull me up. "You're coming to the study session?"
"Someone needs to make sure you don't blow yourself up with miscast spells." She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "Besides, necromancy has useful applications for the written portion. Death magic is often misunderstood in the exams."
"Anya Ravenspell," I said, linking my arm through hers as we walked, "I think you like me."
I noticed she didn't pull away. "Don't push your luck, Whittaker."
Mason waited by the training entrance, all six-foot-whatever of him managing to look relaxed as he leaned against the wall.
"Thanks, Anya. See you later."
Bootcamp. The nickname had stuck —fitting for this week of hell before the final Guild trial. Day one. No easing into it.
This was my shot. Prove I could handle whatever they threw at me. No more being the weak link.
When Mason's eyes found mine, the corners of his mouth lifted. Not much, but from Mason? Everything.
Our bond flared as I got closer—that warm, steady pulse wrapping around me. The sensation hit deeper this time, not just warmth but something that made my pulse quicken and my muscles feel more responsive. For a heartbeat, I felt his love for me. Deep. Unwavering. So pure it stole my breath.
"Hey," I said softly, my voice catching.
"Hey," he replied, his voice low and gruff. "Come with me."
I raised an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"
"The gym," he said simply, taking my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles—quiet reassurance that spoke louder than words.
The Guild's gym hit me with sensory overload—sharp tang of sweat and iron, chalk dust dancing in light, the rhythmic thud of fists against heavy bags. A few other applicants were scattered around, their grunts and the slap of feet on mats creating a constant backdrop of effort. Mason led me to a quieter corner where we could breathe.
