Page 31 of Fated for Flames

Lia rolled her eyes “As if.”

Then she prattled on about her latest shopping spree when she’d gone back home. “Oh, that reminds me! Evelyn, I have a bag of old clothes for you. I know you always love my scraps.” She laughed at her joke.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Then the conversation turned to Halloween, which was still far away but a favorite celebration among our kind.

“Actually,” I interjected, “Ruby had an interesting idea for our themed Halloween costume this year. I think it’s a great idea.”

In recent days, we had enjoyed a nice camaraderie and mutual exchange. Now that dynamic was gone, replaced by Lia’s unyielding monologue. I wanted to steer the conversation back to what we had before.

“You know,” Lia said, leaning back in her chair, “you’ve become rather vocal lately. Lots of opinions about everything.”

I shrugged. “It’s just nice having others participate in the conversation.”

“Indeed.” Lila’s eyes narrowed slightly as she surveyed me.

This wasn’t the carefree Lia from a week ago; this was a different Lia, one much closer to the version who watched me burn at the stake. Something during her time away had made her turn against me. Most likely that something was her mother, the matriarch, Morgana.

As Adrien and Felix approached our table, Lia’s face contorted into a scowl.

“There’s no room for you two here,” she snapped, not even bothering to look around the table.

I rolled my eyes and shifted in my seat, making space for them.

“Don’t be silly, Lia,” I said. “Adrien and Felix have been sitting with us for the last few days. They’re our new friends from the Verdant Coven.”

Adrien thanked me with a grateful smile as he took a seat next to me, closely followed by Felix.

The tension among our group became palpable and I could feel the other witches growing wary, already on edge after the hair fiasco and not wanting to fall out of Lia’s good graces.

Ruby perked up at the sight of the warlocks, but Lia’s lips remained tightly pressed together with an icy glare directed toward Adrien. Despite her displeasure, she didn’t voice any more objections.

It was clear that strains were rising within our group, but for now, we all put on polite smiles and pretended everything was fine.

20

Evelyn

The weekend swept in, and I welcomed it as another opportunity to push myself further in training.

Chad, as always, was a whirlwind of energy and unbridled enthusiasm. His training methods were as unorthodox as they were effective. Right now, he had me sprinting laps while cradling a gigantic rock in my arms.

Bizarre? Yes.

Did I look like an idiot? Absolutely.

But I could feel the difference; my arms were steadily getting stronger, and each day brought a new sense of progress.

After the rock-cradling torture sprint, we focused on sparring and gearing up for next week’s class focus.

I was terrible, of course. Every punch I threw felt like swatting at flies, and every dodge was like stumbling over my own feet.

Chad just grinned that bright, puppylike, toothy smile of his and said, “Keep going, little witch.”

He said it with such warmth and genuine belief that I kept at it. Again and again, until my arms felt like jelly and my legs threatened to buckle under me.

After the grueling training session, we collapsed onto the grass, chests heaving, sweat glistening on our foreheads. The afternoon sunbathed us in a warm glow, and for a moment, I forgot about the sinister plot swirling around me.

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