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“No, but—”
“I want to keep you alive, and all you do is mock the lessons.” Iggy to the center scowled.
Thereal Iggywas my self-appointed teacher, and I was failing this lesson spectacularly—because to solve it, I had to first counter his duplication hex.
Which Iggy was flesh?
“No one’s killed me yet, Iggikins,” I muttered as I pushed to my feet. Again. Somehow being splayed out, legs akimbo like Bambi on ice made it harder to sound serious, but I was nothing if not tenacious. I insisted, “That has to meansomething.”
Iggy scoffed, and every one of them said, “It means you’re lucky.”
I studied the many Iggys, hoping for a clue. I sent out a push of necromantic energy, and this time only one Iggy zinged back: the Iggy closest to me.
Got you!I telegraphed my intent too soon, though. He fired several hexes that promptly knocked me back to the ground.
He didn’t crow at his victory or even throw a little snark at me. He simply gave me a smug smile and motioned for me to get back to my feet.
I was starting to think Iggy knocked me to the floor just because it pissed me off.
“So that’s how it is?” I asked.
He smiled wider.
So, I retaliated: a volley of hexes and a knife that sailed through the air targeting the real Iggy. I heard the knife hit actual flesh.
The five illusionary Iggys vanished, and the real one still had a fresh wound on his shoulder from the knife I’d launched at him.
“Better.” Iggy rubbed his temples like he was as old as he truly might be. “Much better. Not fast enough, but at least youdidsomething. I do not understand why a hexen of your caliber is so reticent about attacking.”
“Because I’m not heartless?” I stared at him. I understood, objectively, that he was training me, but practicing any of the more dangerous hexes on him seemed . . .wrong.The man had died in the 1800s, and he’d been restored to life—by me—recently. I wasn’t sure how long he’d lived the first go-round, but he had at least a decade or three on me, not counting the century plus where he was moldering in a grave. Maybe death wasn’t as intimidating after you’d done it?
I watched as Iggy muttered hex words for stitching and slowing. Or maybe it wasn’t as daunting when the fixes were that easy. Iggy made it all look easy.
He gave me a pointed glance as he repeated the hex again.
These were useful hexes, especially with my propensity for getting stabbed, and we both knew he expected me to retain them whether he said as much or not. If hehadn’twanted me to learn, he wouldn’t let me hear him. So many of the hexes had been lost over time because people weren’t eager to pass on their knowledge.
“You are only alive, Hexen, because of luck and an absurd excess of power.” Iggy met my gaze.
I preened, though I was certain it wasn’t intended to be a compliment. “Powerful and living! I’ll take it.”
Then, while he was once again glaring at me, I summoned tendrils of the trailing plant that hung in my main room. That wasn’t witch magic. It was a side effect of my marriage to one of the fae. The prince. The heir. My best friend, lover, and soulmate.
The unexpected bonus of marrying Eli Stonecroft was that his magic was now mine to access, as was some of my magic his to use. Currently I was using that fae affinity for nature to stalk my teacher with silently creeping vines.
Cheating? Maybe. Real fights were never about beingfair, though, so I wasn’t about to ignore part of my arsenal when a century or so old witch decided to hex me.
Iggy was about to walk away, so I taunted, “I was strong enough to bring your dusty ass back to life, Iggy Pops . . .”
“Because of my guidance,” he corrected.
“Manipulation, not guidance.” I stood, put my hands on my hips, and glared.
At the exact same time, I urged the plants to lash out at him like trained vipers. The plants encircled his ankles and jerked him toward the ceiling. Within moments, my teacher was hanging upside down from my ceiling, tethered there like a fly in a spiderweb.
“Excellent! Now, think of hexes the same way: extensions of will. You can do it when you summon the dead. You can do so with plants. What about the rest?” Iggy swung from the exposed beams in my fight room as he spoke. “Blindme, Hexen.
“Seriously? Can’t you just leave it at ‘good job, Gen’ or something?” I shook my finger at him, hating that I felt like the cautious one, but I preferred to train with non-lethal and non-disfiguring hexes.
