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Of course. She wanted to shake her head.

“Four: It doesn’t matter what you do as long as you don’t get caught.”

Mira had already failed that rule.

“And if you do, blame someone else,” Amelia added.

Mira scoffed. “Noble.”

Amelia’s eyes slid to hers with annoyance. “Necessary,” she corrected her. “And lastly and perhaps most importantly: Never go to bed angry.”

That was a surprisingly nice rule. Mira was about to say that was her favorite one when the Wielder girl added: “Stay up and plot your revenge.”

“In short, be selfish,” Mira summarized.

Amelia’s blue eyes rolled so far back, Mira worried they might get stuck. “Spheres, I forget how unbearable you Casters are. So self-righteous all the time. It’s why you never have any fun.”

“We have fun,” Mira protested.

“Yes, clearly. Between your savior complex and seeing the world as black and white, Casters are a joy to be around.”

Was that true? She had never thought about it that way. Casters lived by very strict guidelines, which is why they had opposed Mercer, even in his early days. But against the forces of endless Dark Magic, Casters had no way to win. White spells were great for defense, and healing. The only reason they had any chance at winning the war was because some Wielders had decided to join the resistance.

“You can’t help anyone if you’re not taking care of yourself first,” Amelia added, and that line felt personal. Mira swallowed, wondering how much the Wielder girl knew about her. “Anyway,” she said with a sigh. “I need to get to class. See you around.”

It almost sounded like a threat.

8

Mira sat in demonology class, stared at the clock on the wall, and counted down the minutes until she could leave. It wasn’t even five yet, and it was already dark outside. Every day she had to be at Ivercrest, listening to Highmages of Dark Magic, she was scared her own dark powers would expand. How long could she fend off gaining signifiers? At what point would her Wielder magic take over? Infect her more than it already had?

The introductory course was beneath Obryn, who taught advanced demonology to those, like Dawson, who specialized in it. Mira hadn’t been assigned a specialty yet. Instead, she was placed in every beginner course with an emphasis on signifiers. The course had been chosen for her probably because without a control signifier, she couldn’t use her powers at all.

Highmage Baxter, a stout man with more hair in his eyebrows than on his head, talked about the history of demon attacks and how they had increased in frequency as of late.

Mira wished she could speed up time.

“Attacks by Inseeli demons have been rare,” Baxter explained, “but not unheard of. Records show Mercer only summoned them a few times during the war due to the sheer volume of Dark Magic they require of the Wielder who calls upon them.”

She had never encountered Inseeli demons before, but as a healer, she had read about them. More than double the size of a human and equipped with razor-sharp teeth, Inseeli were able to bite their opponent in half within seconds. There weren’t many who survived an Inseeli attack.

“Next week we’ll discuss Hellyian demons,” Baxter continued. “Can anyone tell me the key difference between an Inseeli and a Hellyian demon?”

A few hands went up, but the Highmage ignored the students who wanted to be called on.

She knew he was going to ask her—the Caster student who appeared in the wrong department. The novelty hadn’t worn off yet.

“Miss Winters,” he said, and his voice hitched with a mixture of bemusement and curiosity.

She shuffled up in her seat. “Hellyian demons are of the facultem kind, which means they possess a special ability. In the case of Hellyians, they’re known to be nearly unkillable since they have self-healing properties.”

The Highmage nodded. “Precisely. And next week we will delve into their history.”

With that, he dismissed the class. Mira jumped up and headed back to her room. She could get a few hours of research on her potion done before her next meeting with Dawson. But her hopes were dashed when she spotted a scroll on her desk.

A group of Casters are having a bonfire in the forest tonight. You have to come. No excuses allowed.

—Ella