A man in a tweed jacket walked onto the stage.
Raya choked on her macaron and coughed uncontrollably.
Nathan. Nathan from the coffee shop. She could have picked the brain of one of the top witches in the world, and instead she’d rushed off to catch a train.
Her dog-eared copy ofWitching Into the Darkdidn’t have an author photo.
Raya kicked the leg of the seat in front of her in frustration.
Luckily, its occupant was too enraptured to notice.
Nathan removed his wand from his pocket and held it up in the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes and held his other hand, fingers loosely spread, over the wand.
A susurration rippled through the crowd before the gathered witches fell completely silent.
Light traced around Nathan, crisscrossing with geometric precision, forming a delicate filigree outlining a figure with a pointed top and a four-legged base.
The Eiffel Tower, made of light.
Raya’s mouth fell open and a heady feeling of longing swept through her. The illusion demonstrated raw power as much as beauty.
He picked up the wand with his free hand like he was handling a very large bubble he didn’t want to pop. He eased the wand away from the illusion with a gentle flick, sending the glowing tower floating over the center aisle.
Heads turned to follow the movement.
Raya hastily tugged her wand free and quietly aimed it at the illusion, determined to make up for the lost opportunity at the coffee shop. There were so many ways to do this wrong, and only one chance to get it right.
Gently, delicately, she asserted her concentration on attracting the light. She felt the spell catch, and immediately had to tamp down the impulse to pull harder.
Softer, Raya, softer.
The tower drifted closer.
She didn’t dare look away to see if Nathan was watching. She brought it to herself, letting it float above her, knowing full well that its light would illuminate her where she sat.
Nathan’s voice broke the silence. “I knew we were coming to the Eiffel Tower. I never guessed one of us would make the Eiffel Tower come to them,” he deadpanned. He banished the light with a wave of the hand.
The audience broke into applause.
Had he seen her? Did he approve? Raya shook with adrenalin as butterflies did barrel rolls in her stomach.
4
Raya flung herself backward onto the bed, sending pillows flying. She stared up at the ceiling as her thoughts whirled. What a day!
She rolled over and reached for her bag, pulling out pages upon pages of notes she’d taken during the presentations. Little freebies from the vendor hall spilled out and rolled across the covers. Raya corralled the miniature bottles, crystals, and swatches into a pile.
A knock at the door interrupted her efforts.
“Hang on.” Raya pushed up from the bed and padded over to the door. “Who is it?”
“Ton pire cauchemar.” Phoenix’s unmistakable English accent came through even in French.
Raya unlocked the door and opened it partway. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Haven’t you learned any French yet?”
“Can’t you just fade through the door?”
