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“Jesus.” I pull on Jason’s arm. “Stop. That enchantment she cast really enhanced every single negative emotion you have. Can’t you see it?”
“Stay out of it,” Jason growls, yanking his arm free.
“And leave Ophelia out of it,” Emrys adds with a scowl.
I step between them. “Fine. As long as you two stop fighting. You care for each other. Stop acting like you don’t.”
“I don’t give a shit about the asshole,” Jason mutters, still showing way too many teeth.
“Fuck the mutt,” Emrys growls.
Oh my God.
At least, Ashton is heading our way and he can keep them apart if I don’t manage. I have no muscle to my name. The only power I seem to have is sensing magic and on occasion taking the boys’ pain away and helping them control the surges.
In all, Ophelia was right. I’m not much of a witch. My “powers” are laughable and not of much use at all.
“What’s going on here?” he asks.
Emrys grunts something unintelligible.
“How’s your brother?” Jason asks instead.
“No change,” Ashton says grimly. “Good news is that outside of the Academy it’s only been two days since the accident, so the doctors are still hopeful.”
“It must be terrible not to be by his side,” I whisper and then almost kick myself because of course that’s not helpful.
But he sends a tiny smile my way. “As long as he’s alive, I have hope. So… are we having a meeting?”
As good a time as any, I guess, so I brace myself for their reaction and say, “Okay guys, we need to talk.”
“About what now?” Emrys growls.
“About Vanessa being a witch. And certain articles from long ago and…” I frown. “Where is Sindri?”
“An elder came for him,” Ashton says.
“An elder? I thought it was family visit day, not whoever-wants-to-visit day.”
His smile widens a little. “Elders are like the jokers in a card game. They go anywhere. Nobody can stop them.”
“But what did they want?”
“I think Sindri asked for an audience with them. He wants to ask them for help with what we’re going through, for information.”
“Guys…” The chill is now spreading to my limbs. Fear, I realize. It’s pure, unadulterated fear flowing in my veins. “The magical desk said that Sindri should be wary and careful of those who claim to help him.” I enumerate the instructions, counting them off on my fingers. “Not to let him borrow more gold, or ask for the favor he wants to ask, or mention what he has learned about Sylmae. Who is apparently his mother.”
“A desk said that?” Emrys snickers.
Jason is glancing from me to Ashton, probably to gauge if this is a bad joke. “A desk.”
“Apparently it’s a magical desk,” Ashton says slowly, glancing at me for confirmation. “Sindri said that it talks nonsense.”
“According to him,” I mutter. “The desk talked to me, not to him. It told me to look out for him.”
We all turn to look at the registration office.
“Where is he?” Emrys says. “And where is the elder?”
