Page 107 of Reckless Witch

Halfway across campus, the numbers of students headed for the assembly field increase. I spot a building beyond the trees. “What’s that?” I angle my chin.

Fran looks in the direction I indicated and says, “The shooting range. You like guns?”

“I’m better with swords.”

Everyone wears or carries a weapon—knives, swords, throwing discs like Fran’s—but I don’t miss that no one else is dressed in the medieval leather Fran and I wear. The suspicion that I’ve been had is confirmed when we reach the field and not another student is dressed in medieval armor. The condescending look Chelsea Nightlow gives me cinches my suspicion. I know the kid doesn’t like me, but she clearly thinks my outfit is stupid. She’s probably right.

I give Fran a narrow-eyed look. “Why?”

Fran shrugs. “I didn’t want to hog all the attention.”

A tiny squeak emanates from my pocket. “Hush,” I admonish Stony in a whisper. She squeaks louder and I roll my eyes. “It’s just a form of speech. Fran isn’t going to turn into a hog.”

“Of course not,” Fran quickly confirms as we emerge from the trees into the clearing where, apparently, the entire student body has assembled. “Sorry, Stony,” Fran adds in a whisper.

Another squeak follows and a guy to my right looks my way and frowns.

Fran and I hurry past and I whisper to Stony, “Be quiet or I’ll make you walk. It has snowed and it’s pretty damn cold out here.”

This time, no squeak.

I decide to use magic to change clothes into something less conspicuous, then realize this is kind of what Raith was talking about, using magic for personal gain. This really isn’t that bad, though—

Is this kind of reasoning that started Grams down the path of darkness? How long does it take for a person to finally cross the line? How long before Grams kicked me out was she dabbling in black magic? This has to be why she kicked me out. My thoughts come to a halt when I catch sight of The Three near a group of students.

“Oh God,” I breath. “Don’t look over here.”

Of course, Raith looks past Ethan and Blade straight at me.

Raith blinks, then I see—it can’t be—amusement in his eyes. “The end of the world is at hand,” I mutter. “Raith Vanderkoff almost smiled.”

“Oh my God,” Fran hisses. “Is Raith looking at us?”

The equivalent of a mouse growl emanates from my pocket.

A tiny smile curves one side of Raith’s mouth.

I blink. No way is he a Xena fan.

Blade and Ethan turn toward me and the man standing to Raith’s right becomes visible.

I freeze.

It can’t be.

Chapter Forty-Five

BLADE

Warrior Princess

It’s a perfect day for our War Games. Even my lack of sleep over the strange meeting with Zadkeil last night—and Leilah’s cold demeanor—doesn’t quite squelch my joy in being outside. I breathe deeply of the crisp air as Ethan and I cut across the sparring field behind half a dozen students headed for the assembly field. I wear loose-fitting brown pants, matching leather armor that hangs to my thighs, and a short gambeson that protects my upper torso and arms. My favorite part of the outfit are the swede boots. They remind me of the clothes my kind wore eons ago, before the world became populated with too many people, and fashion became a way to impress others instead of a connection to the earth.

The games awaken my urge to run free in the woods and reconnect with my fae cousins, the nature spirits. Today, however, even with the bright January sun, I would have preferred to delay the games. Ethan has not spoken since he caught up with me outside my on-campus apartment, but I know something weighs on his mind beyond the worry that the War Games make Leilah an easy target.

Wait until he hears my news.

The students ahead leave the walkway and disappear into the trees thirty feet ahead. I open my mouth to speak, but Ethan says, “I discovered what Raith’s problem is with Leilah.”