“Like you got caught in lightning,” she clarifies, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes narrow. “She’s a storm witch?”
I don’t reply. But I suppose that’s answer enough.
“It smells like you’re carrying her magic in your veins.”
Now it’s my turn to narrow my eyes, and I try to ignore the way my stomach tightens. “That’s not possible.”
I’ve been alive for 333 years. I’ve fed from all manner of magical beings. But their magic has never transferred to me. That’s not how feeding works.
“Isn’t it?” Arella tips her head at me, her red lips pressing into a firm line. “I’ve handled blood for over a century. Human, shifter, witch.” She watches me for a long moment, as if she can see something in my eyes that I can’t see in myself. “Elemental magic is different though. It carries residue. Most of it dissipates after leaving the body, but...” She scents the air again. “Hers hasn’t. Like you carry it with you now.”
Her words unsettle me.
Because I know something is different. I’ve known since the moment I drew Maeve’s blood into my mouth. But I don’t have the words to describe it. All I have is this feeling in my chest, like someone else’s heart is beating alongside mine.
I’m not yet sure whether it’s comforting or unsettling. Perhaps a bit of both.
I shift back from Arella, putting a bit more distance between us. She seems to pick up on the subtle cue, for her eyes flicker with a mix of hurt and anger before she masks it and steps away.
“Apology accepted,” she says as she turns and walks back behind the desk. “It’s not like I’m in love with you, Professor.” The smile she levels at me is sharp. “It was one kiss. No harm done.”
Her mouth says one thing, but her eyes say something else, even if she is trying to disguise the hurt there. But there’s nothing further I can do. Because I belong to another now.
I meant what I told Maeve that night after feeding on her.
I’m yours now,furtuna mea. Until you no longer want me. I’m yours.
I draw myself up. “Good night, Arella.”
She tips her head, still smiling. “Good night, Professor.”
Outside, I breathe in the crisp autumn air, and there’s a scent to it now that promises of our first snow. Winter is creeping in one gust of wind at a time.
As I start toward the carriage depot, intending to hire a driver to return me to the academy, I feel once more for that tug in my chest, the beat of a heart that isn’t mine. And when I find it, lingering just beneath my breast bone, I realize I have no idea what it is.
Or what the hell I’m going to do about it.
Chapter 40
Maeve
“I DON’T KNOW ABOUT THIS,” Poppy says. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Of course it isn’t,” Lyra says, looping her arm through Poppy’s and tugging her closer. “But that’s the fun of it. You’ve gotta laugh in the face of danger, Pops.” Lyra lets out a big forced laugh. “See?”
Poppy’s brown cheeks are flushed from the cold, but I think they go a little pale.
“It’s safe,” I tell her. “I promise. It’s much more controlled now.”
Poppy and Lyra are up on the Skyreach Spire with me. I told them I was coming up to practice with my energy sphere, and Lyra wanted to watch. She dragged Poppy along, tearing her away from the book she was reading, and now they’re standing on the tower, bundled up against the cold, their breath steaming in the early-morning air. It’s a weekend, and from up here, I can see students meandering around campus, some building snowmen or throwing snowballs at one another.
It snowed last night, and everything glitters under the sunlight. I invited Isis to come out with me, but she hates the cold more than anyone I know, being cold-blooded and all. So it’s just me, Lyra, and Poppy. Oh, and Juniper too, who’s bundled up in Lyra’s jacket, her head poking up over the button at Lyra’s chin.
“Just stay back there,” I tell them.
Poppy gets a furrow in her brow; Lyra looks like she’s about to watch a fireworks show. They both back up a ways.
Standing in the center of the tower, I close my eyes and center myself. With snow on the ground, I’m not barefoot, so I have to try harder to ground myself in the way Severin taught me.
