“You call him master?” I ask. I’m not sure why. The question slips out, and my judgment is so loud even I flinch.
Surprisingly, Cora doesn’t.
Her face hardens though, lips folding into a flat line.
“We’re doing the sunwalker spell first,” she repeats. Any lingering embarrassment washes from her features as she removes her bag. She takes a collection of items from its main pocket. “Once we’re done…”
She trails off, eyes darting toward Henry.
“He knows,” I say, answering her unasked question. “I told him what you did.”
The disgust is heavy in my voice, and that same pink blush from before lights her face again. Cora clears her throat, and too soon, the color disappears.
“We’ll do your memory second,” she says. With her attention on her bag, she adds, “I even brought two, if you’re feeling up to it.”
“How generous,” I deadpan.
Cora glares at me, nose wrinkling.
“This is the deal,” she says. “If you don’t want?—”
“I do,” I interrupt her. “Let’s just get it over with.”
So we do. We work the next several minutes in tense silence, only speaking for instructions or questions. As time passes, the atmosphere changes. Softens. Henry is undoubtedly better at spellcasting than I am, and it’s clear Cora is pleased. She doesn’t smile, exactly, but her lips tilt at the edges, as if she’s tempted.
Even with me dragging us down, we make impressive progress. In a matter of two hours, we’ve done it. An entire vial is filled with a loose, furious protection spell. The stringy orange magic thrashes in its glass container.
“Wow. We’re done,” Cora says. Like last time, she seems utterly untouched by all the magic we just produced. Henry is struggling, but not nearly as terribly as I am. I’m sweating, gasping, unable to catch my breath.
“I’m much better with potions,” I say. I’m not sure why, other than to prove I’m not a complete loser. “And biological magic,obviously. I’ve done…I’m good with surgeries. But this is not my…”
I trail off. Henry claps a hand over my shoulder, laughing gently.
“No one is questioning your witchcraft,” Henry says.
“I am,” Cora says. Another unimpressed lift of her eyebrow. She does that too much. Looks atmelike that too much. With the way her lips twitch, it almost looks like she’s teasing me. But no. This woman is a monster, and she’s obviously judging me.
“Who knows,” I snap, “Maybe I was once good at spellcasting. Maybe you stole that from me too.”
Cora drops her eyes and swallows. I see it, the way her throat tightens. I wait for her to defend herself, but when she doesn’t, I feel likeI’mthe asshole.
“So,” Henry drawls. He pats the edge of the table, looking almost as uncomfortable as I feel. “Speaking of memories…do we want to look?”
Without responding, Cora digs through her bulky bag again. She keeps her gaze down as she removes a shiny black stone and a drawstring velvet bag. She places the stone at the center of the table and removes a strange collection of objects from the little bag. As she lines the items—I spot a mermaid scale and an animal claw—I frown.
“What is this?”
Cora looks up from what she’s doing. Her eyes are wide, and in the sunlight, I can see all the different shades of brown. Soft and hard, light and dark, all surrounded by long, thick eyelashes.
“A memory stone?” she says. It comes out more like a question, and her gaze darts between me and Henry. “Mrs. Raekes showed us. Second year?—”
“I want my memories back,” I interrupt. “I don’t want to watch them, and I certainly don’t want to watch them withyou.”
She flinches, eyes locking on the stone instead of me. This woman is a literal murderer, and still, my stomach sours at the way she’s curling in on herself. As if expectingmeto hurther.
“Just give it to me,” I demand. I hold my palm out, keeping my eyes on her, even as she refuses to look at me. “Secora.”
“Don’t call me that,” she says, eyes snapping to mine. “I told you I don’t like it. Sodon’t. Be pissed all you want, but don’t disrespect?—”
