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Mack pulls out her Poisons and Potions quiz sheet, color coded like the obsessive overachiever she is, and begins rattling off questions.
“What species of mushroom is used to reduce anxiety?”
“Bisporos tranquaire,” I answer.
“What type of moss is used as a stabilizer in elixirs?”
“Ash moss, which is actually a liverwort, not a true moss.”
“What is the uncommon name for the rare monkshood plant?”
“Dragonsbane,” I say. “It was declared an illegal substance by the council after the last war, along with a host of other poisonous plants, after it was used to nearly eradicate the entire dragon clans of the Winter and Fall courts.”
Kyler frowns down at her notes, scribbled in bubbly pink cursive. “I don’t remember learning that.”
Mack and I exchange yet another look. Kyler is a first year, but someone pulled enough strings so that she skipped straight to the more advanced classes.
“The Dark—I mean, King Oberon’s grandmother was a descendant of the Ice Dragon Lord who claimed the northern half of the Winter Court’s territories. Although King Oberon was only a quarter dragon, his magic chose that creature as his shifter form. During the last war, some of the Seelie took out their rage on the dragon clans. It nearly wiped them out.”
“Oh.” Her frown deepens, and I feel a stab of sympathy for her. I remember that same drowning feeling I had last year trying to learn thousands of years of Fae knowledge in a few weeks.
“Don’t worry,” I reassure her. “I doubt that will be on any test this year. I read ahead.”
I’ve been doing that lately, desperate to learn more about the Darken and my own history.
“Translation,” Mack adds, “she’s being a showoff.”
Oh, boy. If Mack’s calling me a showoff . . . I open my mouth to reply, but think better of it when I catch the tense line of her shoulders, her forced smile. My gaze slides to her tray, where she’s portioned out an apple into tiny cubes.
When was the last time I saw her actually eat more than a few bites of something?
My phone buzzes in my pocket, dragging my attention away from my bestie. As soon as I see the initials ILB, my heart leaps into my throat.
What are you wearing to training tonight?
A blush sweeps over my chest as I take in his question. I can practically hear his teasing voice inside my head, thick with amusement.
Shielding my phone from Mack’s curious gaze, I quickly send back a reply.
Baggy joggers and a sweatshirt.
The dots blink forever, and then . . .
Tease. You wouldn’t dare.
I tamp down my stupid grin. We’ve been doing this—whatever this is—ever since the night at his penthouse. Harmless flirting over text. In person, he’s kept to his word. Only touching me during training. Not mentioning the soulbond or pressuring me for anything beyond the light, flirtatious relationship we’ve established.
Which is wonderful because the first gauntlet is in two days.
Two fricking days.
And we still have no clue what my powers are, how they’re activated, or how to stop them.
“Ready to go slay this test?” Mack asks as she gathers her stuff, a strand of her brown hair escaping her ear and falling forward.
“Mackenzie Fairchild, I was born ready,” I declare, loud enough to draw weird stares from the rest of the lunchroom.
Grinning, Mack high fives me. “Damn right you were.”
