Page 12 of A Witch and Her Minotaur
Oh, that’s right. Aric, I think. The runeball player. I wish I were at a runeball game right now instead of here, with my palms blistered and everyone looking at me like I did something wrong.
“You’ve got too much pride, Lyra,” Maeve says, though her fingers work at the bandage more carefully now, expertly wrapping the cotton until she can deftly tuck the end into itself to hold the material snug. When she’s done, she flops an arm over the back of the couch and tips her head at me, her glossy dark purple hair catching the firelight. “Everyone knows minotaurs are built like mountains. It’s not like he expected you to be indestructible.”
“No,” I scoff. “Just to cause destruction.”
There’s an extended moment of quiet as Poppy finishes with my other hand. My words hang there in the firelit dorm room, refusing to disperse. But they all know it’s true. They’ve all seen what my fire can do—whatIcan do—when I’m not careful. It’s what got me into this whole community service mess in the first place.
“And do you care what he thinks?” Alina asks. Her tone holds a twinge of playfulness, and I quickly cut my gaze to her.
Raelan has one arm draped across her shoulders, and he traces shapes onto her palm with his other hand. I wrinkle my nose at them.
“No,” I snap. “Of course not. He barely speaks, he’s cold as Norwyth, and I swear, every time he looks at me, I canfeelhow annoyed he is that he has to put up with me.” A second later, I grumble beneath my breath, “That makes two of us.”
Beside me, Poppy wipes her hands off on a plum-colored rag, then twists the lid onto the salve jar. “Maybe he’s just lonely. He lives all by himself out there, and I barely see him around.” She leans forward to grab her teacup from the low table, then tips her head to one side thoughtfully. “Maybe he just needs to warm up to you.”
Raelan lets out a low laugh. We all look at him.
“Have something you’d like to add, dragon?” I cross my arms and cant my head.
When Alina told us the truth about what Raelan Ashvale is—one of the rare remaining dragon shifters—I somehow wasn’t surprised. I knew all along he looked at her like she was a slice of apple pie he wanted to sink his teeth into.
“Warmup to you?” His lips pull up on one side. “You should be good at helping him with that. You know, uncontrolled flames and all.”
“Ha, ha. The knight thinks he’s funny now.” The girls titter and smile as I uncross my legs and push to my feet. My movement wakes Juniper, and she shifts on my shoulder, her sharp little claws clinging to the fabric of my fluffy sweater. “I think I preferred when you were all stoic and grouchy,” I add.
Raelan doesn’t rise to my bait, just gives me another small smirk before tracing the shell of Alina’s ear with his nose and whispering something to her that makes her cheeks go pink.
Those two make me want to be ill.
But in a good way. Because of course I’m happy for her. I held her more than once last year while she cried over him, but now that she bears his claiming mark, I’ve yet to see her shed a tear because of Raelan Ashvale.
“I’m going on a walk,” I announce. “And thanks for the help,” I call back to Maeve and Poppy. Then I shove my feet into a pair of plush boots—the kind I don’t dare wear outside for fear of getting a speck of mud on them—and slip out of our dorm room and into the spiraling staircase outside our door.
As soon as I close the door behind me and breathe in a lungful of the chill castle air, I feel better, or at least less cooped up. I don’t do well in tight spaces for long. Or maybe in any one place for long.
I start down the stairs, my soft-soled boots swishing across each stone step as I descend from the north tower. Another student in a wheelchair says hello as they float past, using air magic to hover up the spiraling corridor. The stained glass windows along the stairwell let in thin gray light, but it seems as though another storm is rolling in, if the darkening shadows are any indication.
Making it to the bottom of the stairs, I set off through the castle halls, letting my feet carry me wherever they want to go.
Despite it being the weekend, the castle is quiet. When the weather is nice, many students flock outside, wantingto soak up the sun and sprawl in the grass in the expansive courtyard, boots off and toes bare. But on rainy days like this—seems like it rains on most days during the autumn—many students retreat to their dorm rooms or take up spots near the big fires roaring in the library or dining hall. I only pass a few other students as I drift along. Two of them are still slightly damp, so they must’ve gotten caught in the first leg of the storm on their way back to the castle—from Wysteria, perhaps.
“Where are we going?” Juniper asks from her spot on my shoulder.
“You awake now?”
In response, she yawns.
“Don’t know. Just walking.”
“Well, can we make a detour to the dining hall?” She sniffs the air, her whiskers tickling my earlobe and making me giggle. “I smell cinnamon.”
Per her request, I turn my feet in the direction of the dining hall. It’s not quite time for dinner, even if the darkness from the storm is trying to trick me into thinking so. But throughout the day, students can swing by the dining hall and pick up snacks between classes or to tide them over until dinnertime. I must be one lucky witch, because I step into the candlelit room just as one of the cooks is setting out a fresh platter of steaming cinnamon-sugar muffins.
My mouth waters at the sight of them.
“Fresh out of the oven,” he says. “Don’t burn yourself.”
Burn myself. That’s funny. Fire never bites me—it just bites everyone and everythingaroundme.
