“And has Mr. Luton volunteered to be the object of this spell?” Annabel inquired idly from her seat. “Or is this simply a discourteous jest that you’re playing on a defenseless member of your staff?”
“Mrs. Renwick.AndLady Cosgrave.” I looked pointedly from one of them to the other. “Correct me if I am mistaken, but you were intended to be unbiasedobserversof these lessons, were you not? Rather than active participants—or hindrants to them?”
“Well!” Lady Cosgrave’s eyes flashed. “If you think—”
“I amaware,” I snapped, “that both of you would prefer my students to remain uninstructed in their magical abilities. You have both made your feelings on the matterquiteclear. Therefore, it can only serve your purposes to interrupt my lessons and subvert my students’ faith in me during these few days that I’ve been granted for your inspection. But”—I held up one hand to still any further objections—“Iwill notleave any of these young women without a foundation for their own further studies, no matter how many underhanded angles of attack you may pursue against my school.”
My gaze landed meaningfully on Annabel’s face with my final words. She frowned warily in response, compressing her lips together.
Was she thinking of that sinister fey altar in the library? She must have known I would suspect her as soon as it was discovered. Not only was she the least trustworthy of our visitors, she was also the only one who had lived before on this estate, with more than enough opportunity to learn about our local fey traditions. I would have loved to press her further now, but with every minute that passed, I could feel those ominous,directedgreen vines wrapping ever tighter around Luton’s house...and possibly even starting toward Thornfell itself.
Lady Cosgrave gave an impatient huff and began to scribble rapid notes in her commonplace book—an outline, no doubt, for the excuses she would give when she inevitably voted to close Thornfell down. I ignored the busy scratching of pencil against paper and turned back to my wide-eyed students. “Miss Banks and Miss Stewart, if you please. I’ll direct both of you through it at first, before the rest of the class splits into their own pairs.”
Miss Banks had studied magic before she came here, using the books that I had lent her, and Miss Stewart—the final student without an alibi for last night’s doings—was also the only student who had been notably excited to study weather wizardry with Gregory Luton himself. None of my students knew him personally yet, but she, at least, knewofhim—and that, I hoped, might add just a touch of personal connection to seal the scry.
It was maddening not to be able to perform the scrying spell myself and race to save Luton immediately...but this many months after my accident, I refused to allow bitter helplessness to overwhelm me any longer. Taking a deep breath, I accepted it...and let it go.
“Now,” I said as my students moved into position on either side of the table, “join hands, look into each other’s eyes, speak these words, andfocus.”
It was easy for them to repeat the words of the spell I recited for them next—but to focus, sincerely and wholly, in that moment was a challenge. There was an unavoidable jolt of startlement, of course, whenever one looked directly into another person’s eyes for the first time. For two magician’s magics to connect, that look could be nothing so simple as a brief or neutral glance. Shields had to be dropped on both sides for a true connection to be made.
Our magic came from the rawest, most vulnerable parts of ourselves. We had to open ourselves completely in order to share it.
And then, when two magics met and joined, guided by the simple words of that spell...
I had been talking, calmly and steadily, to my students throughout the process, but I had to clench my hands to hold back a full-body shiver as vivid memories suddenly splashed across me: the first time I had learned to do this myself, in a stuffy, windowless classroom at the Great Library, wearing my long black student robes and looking—inevitably—up into Wrexham’s dark eyes.
I looked at him; he looked at me. It had been that way ever since I’d first arrived and awareness had sparked wildly between us. Everything we did, we did to show off to each other. We were acknowledged rivals in every class. We were intense and combative friends outside.
But that day, under the droning instruction of our professor, we were forced, at long last, to drop every one of our clever, protective barriers as we met each other’s gazes. None of our emotions could be safely hidden any longer.
And the raw hunger that I’d seen in his eyes then, as my magic burst free and merged with his...
Heat washed through me at the memory, tingling and irrepressible—andentirelyinappropriate. I gave my head a quick, sharp shake. This wasnota recollection to indulge in whilst teaching!
Fortunately for the heat levels in our own classroom, Miss Banks and Miss Stewart shared no such personal history as Wrexham and I had. There was some awkwardness and shuffling of feet as their gazes connected, but none of the crackling emotional tension of my own experience. It took more than a few minutes before they managed to relax, slow their breathing, and truly focus in unison, but once they did—
Ah! Their magics connected with a burst of power that sent prickling energy through the room and made every hair on my arms stand on end.
Indrawn breaths sounded from every watching student—and when I glanced across the semicircles of chairs, holding up one hand for silence, I was startled to find the ever-imperturbable Miss Fennell staring at her secret fiancée with shockingly naked intensity. I wouldn’t have expected her to know what that sudden shift in air pressure meant—but then, perhaps what she was reacting to was the sight of Miss Banks leaning forward, lost in her classmate’s gaze...for Miss Stewart, it had to be said, was remarkably attractive, with curling auburn hair, full lips, and a mischievous sparkle to her eyes.
I gave my two students a full minute to adjust to their new fusion, keeping a minatory gaze on their audience to ensure that not a single sound could distract either of them. That magical melding couldn’t help but feel astonishingly intimate and exhilarating, no matter who the partner might be; paired with one’s worst enemy, one would still thrill to sense that sudden doubled well of magical strength, making anything—anything!—seem possible.
It was a feeling I missed horribly...but I couldn’t blame Miss Fennell if she felt an ignoble pang or two as she watched it happen. Knowing exactly how intimate that magical union felt, I shouldn’t care to watch Wrexham pair with anyone else, either, for all that I knew better than to rationally mind it.
I should have liked to give my students more time to absorb the sensation, but the thought of those wicked, growing vines was a constant irritation at the back of my mind. So, after a minute, I stepped closer to Miss Banks and Miss Stewart, keeping my voice low and soothing, the better not to jolt either of them into dropping the connection. “Look,” I said, “down into the water, but don’t let go of each other’s magic. Feel it filling the air between you, tying you together into one force.”
Moving as slowly as if the air had become thick liquid, they followed my directions, leaning over to look down with glazed eyes. The water in the white bowl between them rippled under their twinned breath, perfectly transparent.
“Think,” I said, “of Mr. Luton. Recall every detail that you can, no matter how small or insignificant. It could be the shade of his hair, the sound of his voice, or the words he spoke in his introduction last night.”Or the way he sprawled in his chair afterward as if he owned the whole estate, I thought uncharitably.
The water in the bowl was already swirling, colors seeping in through the growing whirlpool. Green and gold and blue—aha!That was the blue of Gregory Luton’s eyes...seen so close, as the vision settled into place, that his face filled the entire bowl, and the green and gold I’d glimpsed along the way were abandoned far outside the confines of the water.
Good God. Was Miss Stewartreallyonly interested in Luton’s weather wizardry? Because the vision summoned here, stemming from the most vivid impression plucked from either of the two women’s memories...
Never mind. I would have a firm talk later with Miss Stewart about the inadvisability of being taken in by a pair of fine blue eyes, waving golden hair, and an impressively confident demeanor.
In the meantime, I kept my own voice pitched low as I murmured, “Well done, both of you. Now, let yourself fall back a bit. Let’s see more than just his face, shall we? Hold onto your sense of him, but move away slowly...yes.Justlike that. Perfect!” Water swirled again, reshaping itself within the bowl, and pride lit within my chest like a lantern, casting away the last shadows of frustration.
