Lips pursed, Alistair flips ahead in the book and clears his throat. “Nightmare demons are considered one of the most powerful types of demonic beings. Known for their heightened senses and fear-based magic, most influence the subconscious by targeting the mind during sleep. However, some nightmare lineages produce stronger abilities, creating immersive illusions that alter the perception and reality of one or more alert individuals.”
I raise my eyebrows. “That’s not bad, honestly.”
“You’re not a normal nightmare.” Alistair spits the words like an accusation, his expression darkening.
I scoff. “Of course not.”
“They don’t list any weaknesses,” he says, turning to the next page, then back again. “The information is incomplete.”
“Again. Of course not. The academy gets most of its funding from?—”
“Rich assholes,” Alistair interrupts.
I roll my eyes again. Alistair is doing fine for himself, but I’m not dumb enough to point that out. “It’s not only the enclave pulling the strings,” I tell him. “Witches founded Starfall, and the modern covens are so enmeshed with the school that walking onto campus feels like getting dunked in an ice bath.” I shudder, remembering the gross sensation of the academy’s built-in magical protections.
Dad was livid when I got expelled, but it was worth his anger to get out of there. I didn’t get a good night’s sleep the entire time I lived at Starfall. Part of it was the unsettling prickle of witch magic, and the rest—well, let’s just say it wasn’t a popular place to be a Casanell either.
Alistair isn’t paying attention to me anymore—he’s completely focused on the book. I sigh and consider rifling through his fridge for a snack.
I don’t know why he can’t read it after I leave. This is boring.
“I’m happy to answer any questions you might have,” I say, grimacing. I sound like a fucking customer service bot, overly eager to please and one angry customer interaction away from taking a bath with my toaster.
Alistair grunts.
I groan.
“What’s wrong with you?” he demands.
Please, what’s wrong with me? Has he looked in the mirror recently?Don’t bring it up. You’ll piss him off.I thrum my fingers against my thighs and say, “Nothing. Nothingat all.”
“You’re fidgeting.”
I force myself to stop moving and rack my brain for a way to convince him to read the book after I leave. “There’s a chapter on experimental magic,” I say. I only know that because I skimmed the index before giving it to him to be sure nothing was too incriminating about the enclave families, but there’s no reason to tell him that.
The textbook is a good resource, but I’m not surprised it’s not common knowledge. If you left your home realm and moved here as an adult, as many in the Fringes do, you wouldn’t have an opportunity to go to school and learn it.
“Gods, the witch section is one-third of the book,” Alistair exclaims.
I snort and pretend to jerk myself off. “Yeah, they’re pretty high on themselves. A witch probably wrote the book.”
Alistair continues flipping through the pages. “I found the experimental magic section,” he murmurs, sitting up straighter on the barstool. “It says that, in rare instances, magic users can combine their gifts with other species to create new abilities.”
Whoa.That’s cool. Clearly, I wasn’t in the class the day that was covered. “Does it say how?” I ask.
Alistair shakes his head. “This book has no instructions of any kind.”
“I’m not surprised.” I shrug. “It’s an introductory textbook. It wasn’t assigned to a practical class.” My memories of the academy are foggy. It’s been a few years, and I spent more time seducing or pranking my classmates than learning.
There is one thing about it that strikes me as strange. “All the applied classes were divided by species, though,” I tell him. “I’m not sure they ever give anyone the opportunity to try.” Pushing to my feet, I flip my frown to a smile. “Are you thinking whatI’m thinking?”
Alistair’s blue eyes leave the book to skim over my face. “I sincerely doubt it.”
“We should try to combine our magic! Cook up something new.”
“That’s not the point?—”
“Yeah, but it’s more fun. Plus, you have hours to read and compile your files while the sun’s up.” I waggle my eyebrows as Alistair’s nostrils flare.
