A Crown of Blood

Chapter 8

The next few days passed with assignments, drills, and magical quizzes—one of which almost landed me straight through a window when I missed a crucial syllable in the pronunciation of a refraction spell. Jude believed in a more authoritarian style of teaching, and the more time Jude and I spent together, the more I wanted to wring his neck.

Where was Rosalia today? I wondered.

As we trained, I couldn't ignore the pit in my stomach. They want The Book of the Folklore. They think they found it. I am so not getting paid enough for any of this.

"You did better this time," Jude said from his spot on the porch, one leg folded over the other, spellbook in hand. His lilac hair was pulled back in a sleek bun, and he stared at the book from behind thick-rimmed sunglasses, a mixture of boredom and frustration lining his sharp features.

I twisted in the grass, dirt caking the side of my face, a series of small pebbles embedded in my skin, and hauled myself into a sitting position. "Is that a compliment, Jude?"

"No. I'll give you a compliment when you deserve one. If you want to stand a chance with the wards protecting The Book, you need to concentrate your power."

"Can I take a break?"

"You'll take a break after you do it perfectly."

I scrubbed my hands over my face. Breathe, Halina. Breathe.

I was barely keeping hold of my magic as it was. The objective was simple: pull the water out of a patch of grass without disturbing the remainder of the land. Simple, molecular separation—as described in Chapter Four of The Basics of Energy Manipulation. First Edition.

Easier said than done.

The sun shone brightly in the afternoon sky, golden rays slicing through the green canopy in thick spotlights to illuminate the holes I'd blown into the ground. Evaporating and incinerating were two very distinct skills. I was quite good at the latter.

Exhaling slowly, I climbed to my feet and focused on a patch of crabgrass at the base of the porch. Noticing my target, Jude shifted in his chair, glaring. "If you're trying to blow me up, Witchling..."

"Not a chance. We need each other, remember?" Lifting my hands in front of me, I focused on clearing my mind. The wolf bristled when I called my magic forward, and I faltered a step, frightened she would take control. She'd been cooperative up to this point. But the monster was unpredictable. Wild. She could turn at any moment.

"Easy..." I whispered. Screwing my eyes shut, I pictured thin blades of grass and the droplets that coated their waxy surface, down to the roots, all the way to the molecules that engorged each individual cell. Focus. A breeze wafted through the trees. And I felt it: burnt sugar on my tongue, a soft brush of cool magic against my mind, and when I opened my eyes, a small orb of crystalline water floated in front of me, the grass beneath it wilted yellow.

I did it.

The orb hit the grass with a splash. Jude snapped the spellbook shut and stepped off the porch. "I think that's enough magic practice today." A smile ghosted his lips. "You're progressing well, Witchling. That is your compliment."

I grinned from ear to ear.

Footsteps crunched along the gravel. I didn't have to turn around to know it was Damon.

Finally, the wolf sighed, kicking my heart against my ribs. Something exciting.

"Hose off and change into something you can move around in," he instructed. The more I looked at him, the more attraction sparked through me. I wanted to smack some sense into myself. "Your training continues in fifteen minutes."