Page 13 of Wings and Shadowthief

It wasn’t exactly fair. Less than a dozen students occupied that wing, which meant they had large rooms they didn’t have to share with any prissy witches. Their common room was also considerably larger, though it was seldom used.

Gwen hesitated. Tris was still in New York City, and she hadn’t been invited. She shouldn’t trespass in the dorm's other wing…but then again, who would bother her? She was friendly with half of the residents.

On the other hand, it washiswing. The last thing she needed was to bump into Jack Hunter.

“Hey, Gwen! You’re up early.” Eddy Jones waved her forward. “Come, join us!”

It was all she could do not to wince. The werewolf boy was cute, with his sharp bone structure and flushed cheeks, but he’d asked her out no less than seven times in the last three months, never letting a no discourage him. The hopeful grin and the way he looked at her in her ratty PJs was all the encouragement she needed.

She had to get out of here. She’d leave the wing if Jack showed up. “I have to get some work done. Thanks, though.”

His dimples flashed. “The perfect Gwen, always working or hanging out with the creme de la creme. You’re going to be a queen someday.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head on her way to the other side.

It was true that she’d made a point to socialize with important people when she arrived in Oldcrest—the huntsmen, at first, but also whichever high witch she could actually learn from. She didn’t gravitate toward them out of ambition, though. She’d been ordered to do so, plain and simple. The prospect of making the right connections had been one of the few selling points she’d given her clan when she’d requested to attend the Institute. They’d relented on three conditions: she was to mingle with people who could later prove useful to the clan, maintain exemplary grades, and immediately come back if she lost control.

To be entirely honest, she lost control of her magic every other day, but no one seemed to care here.

Entering the dark corridors, Gwen closed the door behind her. The moment she did, all the noise from her side of the dorm faded into nothing. The lucky bastards also had decent sound insulation, apparently.

She’d only been shown the common room once, but she found her way easily enough; it was one of the only rooms on the ground floor.

Silent as she could, Gwen walked inside the empty chamber, and flipped the light switch on.

None of the four elegant, comfortable gray sofas were occupied. In one corner of the room, there was a stack of wood next to an empty fireplace. An open alcove led to a small kitchen. Gwen headed there first. A mug of hot chocolate warming her fingers a short time later, she then took one of the laptops discarded near a charging dock and plopped on one of the sofas with the device.

She logged into her account to check on her emails, first. Gwen didn’t do well with technology; she’d destroyed tons of phones with her water magic in the past. Now, she kept hers in her bedside table, only checking it out when she knew for a fact that she wasn’t about to practice any form of magic. Phones didn’t work on campus, in any case. That meant that she was always met with a few hundred unread emails every time she checked her inbox. Most of them were spam, but she deleted those fast enough.

There were three emails left. Gwen breathed out before opening the first, willing herself to calm down. It wouldn’t be that bad. It wouldn’t. Right?

Dear Daughter,

We’ll skip over the fact that you’ve not bothered to contact your family for your cousin’s birthday. I’m certain you have a reasonable explanation.

What progress have you made? I hope the Eirikrson girl still puts up with you. You might as well come back home, otherwise. There’s plenty of work to do, and even you could make yourself useful. We’ve moved to the Mediterranean. You’d enjoy the weather, I think. Is your magic less volatile? I hope we’ll see some progress this summer. You are coming back this summer, right? If the Eirikrson wants your help, no worries. Make yourself indispensable. Our coven needs the support.

And answer your damn phone, I feel like I’m paying for nothing.

Naia

Gwen shot back a quick response, accustomed to her mother’s direct, self-centered views of the world.

The other two relevant emails were from her teachers—links to her newest assignments. She clicked on the first, willing herself to push any thoughts of Naia out of her mind for an hour or two.

Eager to chase away the remanence of the haunting dream she’d woken up to, as well as her mother’s drama, she worked diligently on her assignments, finishing up the piece she’d written about the weaponized black ice she’d materialized in her anger the week before. Hopefully, her professor would give her extra credit for finally feeling her magic. The issue was, writing about it was just the start. She needed to replicate the phenomenon and experiment with it until she could finally pinpoint clear limits. Only then would she be considered a proficient witch—one who wasn’t potentially a danger to those around her.

Maybe her clan would consider her something more than a useless little pawn then.

At eight, Gwen went to get showered and dressed, ready to attack another day.

The gods must have been on her side. She didn’t even see Jack once.

So why did her stomach plummet every time she spotted a tall blond head, only to realize it didn’t belong to him today? She didn’t want to come across the ass. Right?

Losing Balance

Every part of Jack's body hurt like hell. Unless he was much mistaken, he had a couple of broken ribs, and an ache radiated from his jaw. He opened his eyes, confused and dazed.

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