Page 30 of Fated for Flames

Evelyn

The next day at lunch as I walked into the cafeteria, the usual hum of conversation filled the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clatter of cutlery against plates. I navigated my way through the maze of tables, and a familiar face caught my eye.

Lia was back.

Her blonde hair shone like spun gold in the light, her gray eyes twinkling with authority as she seemed to be chastising a witch about something. The queen bee was back on her throne, her loyal followers fluttering around her like dutiful bees.

She had returned just as a book sucking my powers had found itself in my room.

“Coincidence?” I muttered to myself, shaking off the icy feeling that crawled up my spine.

The sweet smile that spread across Lia’s face when she saw me was the same as it always was, yet something differentlingered beneath the surface. Seeing her up close, I noticed she looked a little tired, even though she tried hard to hide it.

“Lia,” I greeted her. Then whispered so the others wouldn’t hear, “Are you okay? You look…tired.”

She shrugged, attempting to wave off my concern with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “You know how my mom is… She had me do all kinds of stuff for the coven. I just need some rest.”

“What stuff did she have you do?” I pressed.

Lia gave me a sidelong glance, her lips pressed into a thin line, then shrugged again. “Just coven stuff…you know.”

But I didn’t know.

“What’s up with everyone’s hair?” Lia said, scanning the witches sitting at our table.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a laugh.

In Lia’s absence, I had become the unwitting queen bee, it seems. Many witches had adopted my frizzy, air-dried look. Seeing prim and proper witches with their hair sticking out in all directions was, to say the least, comical.

One witch piped up, a proud smile on her face, “It’s the new trend in the human world. Frizzy air-dry!”

I snorted, unable to contain my laughter any longer.

Lia frowned. “Well, it looks awful,” she declared, her tone so full of disgust that several witches gasped.

As if on cue, every pair of eyes turned to me.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “I didn’t tell anyone to copy my look.”

Lia shot me a look before turning back to her group of followers, several of them hurriedly restyling their frizzy hair.

“I was thinking,” I began to Lia, “maybe we could hang out tonight? It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Lia let out a soft sigh, tilting her head as if considering. “That would be fun, but I’m exhausted. Maybe some other time.”

Then she turned her attention to the table.

“Guys, I have to tell you!” Her tone demanded everybody’s attention. “The nerve of some shifters. One of them approached me right here in the courtyard, bold as you please,” Lia continued, her nose wrinkling. “There he was, all smiles, thinking he had a chance. I could barely hide my disgust. It’s not just that he was a shifter, but the idea of him thinking we could ever be on the same level,” she scoffed.

Her followers nodded in agreement, their chuckles echoing her sentiments.

“Shifters are quite remarkable,” I countered. “Their strength and abilities are to be admired.”

Lia turned her gaze toward me, an eyebrow arching with surprise. “Oh, Eve,” she cooed, “always the advocate for the underdog. It’s really quite endearing.”

A ripple of snickers spread across the table.

“You’d be surprised,” I continued. “If you gave them a chance, you might like them.”

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