Page 38 of A Witch and Her Minotaur
Not this time. This time, I’ll contain it.
I grit my teeth and widen my stance, rooting my feet to the floor. I imagine standing in Cairn’s garden, pushing my roots into the earth, holding myself firm and strong, like the moonflowers.
Breathe.
I take a breath, then let it out slow. The fire dims, but just slightly.
Intention. Intention. Intention.
Cairn’s voice echoes in my mind, each utterance a balm on my frayed nerves. And every time I hear him, I rein my flames in a little more.
They buck and hiss, fighting my control, trying to take it back from me. But I start funneling them inward, folding the fire over on itself, flame by flame, breath by breath. When I’m done, what remains is one gold-red orb of flickering fire, held aloft in the cage of my firelit fingers. It continues to dance, moving this way and that, but it no longer rages against me. For once, it’s almost... calm.
Likewise, the racing of my heart has slowed, and I can finally catch my breath.
My mouth threatens to pull into a smile. I cradle the orb of fire in my palms, then toss it toward the ceiling. Professor Stone flinches back as there’s a small thump, like the far-off detonation of a firework.
Sparks rain down over me, harmless this time, and sizzle to ash that I brush from my shoulders and shake from my curls.
I meet the professor’s eyes. He regards me for a long moment. Then he gives me a firm nod, and I think he’salmostsmiling at me.
“Well done, Miss Wilder. You should be proud.” He raises his gradebook and opens it, then scribbles something down that I wish I could see from here.
I’m still standing there, fingertips tingling, when he looks up and says, “You may leave.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
I grab my bag from the floor, use the burnt sleeve of my sweater to mop the sweat from my brow, and pull the door open. Immediately, cool air rushes in to greet me, kissing the heat from my skin.
Nella is leaning against the opposite wall, and she straightens up. “How’d it go?” she asks.
And I give her a big smile. Because I’m pretty sure I just passed my midterm.
Chapter 19
Cairn
I’M RAKING MORE LEAVES IN the courtyard—the trees around here must be spelled to drop leaves constantly all autumn long, much to my chagrin—when a sudden pounding of feet startles me out of my thoughts of the conservatory and what it might be like to work there. And next thing I know, a small body is crashing into me, arms coming around me, though they don’t get far on account of how tiny they are and how big I am.
The arms are warm, though, despite their size.
Startled, I twist my head around to glance over my shoulder.
And my eyes widen when I see a full head of curly red hair.
Lyra.
She smells like paper and ink—with a little bit of ash on the edges. Like a fire witch who just finished her midterms.
Immediately, I glance around the courtyard, and sure enough, a few students have noticed Lyra’s display and are looking at us curiously.
Gently, I remove myself from her arms and take a wide step away from her. Holding the rake between us so she can’t tackle me again, I say lowly, “Miss Wilder. Is there something you need?”
My tone seems to confuse her, if the furrow that forms in her brow is any indication. “What?”
Clearing my throat, I glance pointedly toward the students seated on the grass in the courtyard, their robes spread out under them and their faces bathed in autumn sunlight.
Lyra glances at them—much too obviously, in my opinion—then looks back at me and offers an innocent smile. “Oh, sorry. I was so excited, I didn’t even realize they were there.” She clutches her yellow-lined robe in her hands, nearly vibrating where she stands.
