Page 90 of Sorrow & Strangers

“You do?”

“You have been surprising everyone at this school since the moment you enrolled. From your professors to your friends.”

“Yes, well . . .” I look away. “I’m not sure that’s always a good thing.”

He shrugs. “Good or bad. You have shifted the realms.” I look at him to find his silver eyes locked onto mine like he’s trying to read something behind them. “I have a feeling, and while I don’t have my father’s gift for foresight . . .” His eyes turn mercurial. “You will make them all tremble.”

I watch him for a moment. “Good.” The word comes from the depths of the darkness within me, and it feels so fucking good to stroke against it.

He studies me for a long moment, and then he waves a hand. Two books appear in front of me, hovering there. One is titled The Arc of the Fae, and the other Infernicron. I look between the books and then at the headmaster.

“Which do you deem more important? Your survival, or that of your adopted brother?” he asks, watching me closely.

It takes me less than a second to select the demon book, and the other disappears. I need to protect Rafe. Everything else can wait, including the Fae King and my future.

“The other will be waiting when it is time. However, I should warn you, Miss Tuatha De Daanan, both books contain knowledge available only within them. Knowledge that neither Kai nor Lucifer will want you to have access to. They are from my own personal records. It is imperative they be kept secret, hidden, and that the knowledge be respected.”

I nod, brushing my fingers over the thick, worn leather. It’s dry and betrays the book’s age. “Did you happen to find a time we can do some training, sir?” I ask, suddenly feeling the weight of my situation.

“I have some time now if you’re not too strained.”

I nod, and he waves his hand, a portal forming behind me. It’s the same training ground as before, but this time it’s more familiar, which makes me feel more at ease. It’s something I try not to lean into because when it comes time for me to use the skills I am working on, I know my opponent won’t choose a location based on my familiarity. In fact, they will probably do their best to choose a place foreign to me to give themselves an advantage.

The headmaster waves his hand, and a dome ripples around us. “No power gets out, so we won’t need to hold back.” I look around at the translucent shield. “It’s a lockbox of sorts.” There are many lockboxes in Avalon for students to use as they need. Given that we’ve all just reached magical maturity, our power can be unpredictable, especially in moments of high emotion. The lockboxes are designed to contain the damage to a limited area.

“Can’t have us cause any permanent damage, can we?”

My lips twitch. Was that a . . . joke? Is he teasing me about blowing up his office?

“No, sir.”

The headmaster settles into a combat stance as if it is as natural as ­walking. “I’ll be using only Infernal runes. You’ve kept up with your combat training, correct?”

My cheeks heat. “Oh. Um. Not really.”

He frowns, dropping his stance. “Miss Tuatha De Daanan, you know your ability to cast is tied to your physical strength. Magic is only part of the solution.”

“I understand. I’ll discuss my training regimen with Max after we’re done,” I say on an exhale, already dreading the visit.

He nods and assumes his stance again. He holds out his hand, a pristine spell wheel full of Infernal runes forming around his wrist. “Good. You’re going to need it.”

I get into a similar stance and manage to summon my own spell wheel, but it’s much less populated than his. We have only just started working with spell wheels, and while I’m usually ahead of the game with my classes, I’m the first to admit I’ve not exactly been an exemplary student this year.

“Do not concern yourself with the number. The strength of the runes and the caster is the difference between life and death.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, meeting and holding his gaze.

The headmaster launches the first rune at me. It flies at me, crackling with malice and anger, the bright red power sparking with adamantium black. I try to dodge it, but my grief has sapped my strength and speed. It hits my arm, tearing my skin and launching me into the shield. Sparks burst from the bubble, and I groan as I slide to the ground. The headmaster tuts as he walks to me and pulls me to my feet.

“Don’t forget. You don’t have to remain stationary. A moving target is much harder to hit, and a moving fae target is borderline impossible if you’re not an expert marksman. If faced with an opponent who outclasses you, your natural abilities could save your life.”

I nod, running my hand down my bleeding arm and shaking off the hit as we both get back into our stances.

“Again,” the headmaster says, throwing another Infernal rune at me. This one splits in midair as it heads toward me, trying to trap me between them. I duck and roll away from them, just barely avoiding them, and the entire field quakes when they collide with each other.

The headmaster barely nods in acknowledgment as he sends another rune at me, forcing me to move and lean into my instincts.

I manage to dodge most of them, but then the headmaster selects a rune that duplicates him twice, and each copy sends multiple runes at me at once. I only avoid the first two rounds before I’m hit again, and this one hurts exponentially more than the last.