Page 33 of Magic in the Woods
“Just go to sleep, Dafni,” Petunia spat, the bed shaking asshe climbed to the top bunk. The Petunia-sized mattress bulge returned and moved as she tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. It seemed like she’d been practicing her magic, pushing the wardrobe door closed with the wind she was creating.
I settled back into bed, pulling the blanket up over my head. I was almost asleep before she started whispering.
“This is my chance. I’m a better witch, more powerful…soon they’ll see it.”
I tied my boots tight; it was the only way I could walk in the heel without rolling my ankle. Petunia had left early for breakfast, and Brooke was still walking around with sleep in her eyes, searching for her plaid skirt. I’d have to meet Brooke at class—I couldn’t afford to be late, have that attention on me. So far, I’d been able to get by undetected, the other witches none the wiser about my lineage.
Walking through the dome, I passed by witches eating breakfast, pieces of their conversations floating around the open space. Everyone was talking about the upcoming evaluations with a certain level of…excitement. Was this something they really wanted to do? Compete for a man? It all seemed silly.
“I can’t wait for the earth task.”
“I’ve heard anything goes—you can do whatever you need to do to win.”
“Oh, I’m finally going to be able to take out Merideth without getting in trouble.”
After living here for over a week, I’d come to understand there was a certain level of boredom in the Academy. Witches were expected to attend class, eat, and sleep. There was little else besides gossip for entertainment.
“I wish Gideon was around more.”
The mention of Gideon caught my attention.
“Yeah, where does he hide?”
Oomph!
“Ow!”
A witch lay on her stomach on the floor in front of me.
I took several steps back, rubbing my shoulder where I’d hit her while I’d been eavesdropping.
The witch lifted her head, turning around, her mouth open, teeth dripping with poison.
“I’m sorry!” I called out holding my palms up in front of me.
“Youheathen!” she screeched, pushing herself into a seated position. The index finger of the hand she was holding in her lap was bent at an unnatural angle. “You made me fall! You broke my finger—the one my magic flows through!” The witch looked down at her hand, her face growing even paler than it already was. “I won’t be able to compete…the evaluations… I’m an earth magic…the first to compete…”
“I’m sure there’s something the Academy can do,” I stammered. “A potion, or maybe a doctor could reset it…”
The witch stopped spiraling, tilted her head back and cackled. “Do you, little human-born, think the Academy or the Coven cares about us?” She took a step toward me, her poison still flowing from her gums.
Instinctively, I took a step back.
“They don’t waste resources on us. There are no doctors here. Every resource at the Academy is used for instruction. We don’t get anything unless it is for training—to make us more powerful.”
“Then shouldn’t they fix your finger? You can’t train without it.”
The witch laughed again, this time while staring at me. Itmade it so much more uncomfortable. “It’s cute that you still think they care about us. I’m just one witch in the entire Academy. I’m disposable—” She pointed her finger at my chest. “Just.” Her long nail pierced the fabric of my white button up shirt. “Like.” She pushed harder. “You.”
A collective gasp echoed around the dome, and everyone, including the witch with her fingernail imbedded in my skin, turned to look.
At him.
I could only see the back of his head from where he stood on the opposite side of the dome. His black hair was a messy—in a way that told me he’d styled it with his fingers.
Almost immediately, I lost sight of him as witches flocked from all parts of the Academy to see him. They all talked at once, calling out to him, pushing each other to get closer. The mob moved and shifted together—one side being pushed, the witches stepping back and then the same thing on the other side. It took me a moment to realize that it washimcausing the mob to move. He was trying to get out—trapped, drowning in attention he didn’t want.
Gideon was just like every witch here, only he was trapped in a way the other witches weren’t. No wonder he hid.
