She groans and crosses her arms. “I set the greenhouse on fire. On accident.”
I know that part; Lysandra explained the matter when she sat down with me in my hut a few weeks ago. That wasn’t exactly what I was getting at. But small talk isn’t my forte.
With a tip of my head, I clarify, “Why?”
“Why what?”
My brow arches. She knows what.
The witch groans again. “I don’t know, okay? I just...” She lifts her hands out in front of her, staring at them like they’re a riddle she doesn’t understand. “My magic is hard to control.”
“Isn’t it tied to your emotions?”
Her nose wrinkles. “What, you’re an expert on fire magic now?”
Narrowing my eyes, I say, “I’ve been here for years, witch. I know how things work.”
“It’sLyra,” she snaps. Pushing up from her chair, she glowers down at me. “And I don’t need magic tips from a minotaur.”
I stand, and I can’t help but to be slightly impressed when she doesn’t so much as bat an eye as I tower over her. If I wanted to, I could swoop her up with one arm and chuck her over my shoulder without breaking a sweat.
Not that I want to. But still.
“It’sCairn,” I grumble, infusing my words with the same amount of venom she injected into hers.
A flicker goes through her eyes, a softening that smooths the wrinkle in her forehead. But a breath later, the moment passes, and fire flickers to life in her gaze—and on her fingers.
“Keep those away from here. I’ll not have you burning my home to the ground.”
The witch,Lyra, looks down, and I can see the moment she realizes what’s going on. Her cheeks turn a shade of pink, and she clenches her hands into fists, extinguishing the flames amidst little puffs of smoke.
“Come on, Juniper. We’ve done enoughgroundskeepingfor the day.”
I think that was meant to be an insult, but I couldn’t care less.
“Don’t burn anything on your way back,” I say as I gather up our utensils and napkins.
“Very funny.” She holds her hand out, and Juniper clambers into her palm. Seems dangerous to me, considering the flames that were just dancing across her fingers, but I say nothing. Then Lyra turns on a muddy heel and stomps—yes,stomps—away from my hut, her boots thumping along the path leading toward the castle.
Heat smolders in my chest as I watch her go, a mixture of irritation and something I can’t quite get my thumb on yet. Without thinking on it, I snatch our dirty dishes off the bistro table and return to my hut, wondering if I shouldn’t have shared my carrot cake with her after all.
Chapter 8
Lyra
THE STANDS ARE PACKED WITH students and faculty, who’re all cheering on the players as they sprint across the runeball field. There’s a bite to the air, and a breeze sends my curls blowing into my eyes. In the distance, lining the academy’s campus, trees rustle, sending red, orange, and yellow leaves twirling to the ground.
For a brief moment, I wonder if I’ll be here next autumn to see the way the leaves change and cover the courtyard, or attend the fall runeball games with Alina and Maeve and Poppy. Or will I have already been expelled by then?
“Want some?” Alina holds her bag of cinnamon-sugar pecans out to me, pulling my thoughts out of an endless cycle of what-ifs. I eye the bag and the little toasted nuts, which’re still steaming. Every time we come to a game, Raelan buys her a bag, and without fail, she always offers me some. Call it our runeball tradition.
“Thanks.” I reach into the bag and take a handful. They’re warm against my skin. Immediately, Juniper scurries out of my pocket, along my arm, and into my lap, where she grabs a pecan and begins delicately nibbling on it.
“You okay?” Alina tips her head. Her pale blue eyes blink curiously at me. Beside her, Raelan leans forward, also staring at me.
These two freak me out sometimes now with how in sync they are. Once the whole mate-claiming thing happened, everything changed.
“I’m fine,” I say.
