Page 84 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

But the other students stared at her. And the professor gave her a nervous smile, as if he couldn’t quite grasp such a foreign concept when they lived in a world that trusted its invisible safeguards without question. “I’ll return to the lecture.”

All the students dutifully swiveled their attention to the front of the room, and the professor’s drone-like tone once again filled the room.

At the back, Angela slumped in her chair and stared out the window, fiddling with the medallion. “I wish the fire alarms would go off so I could soak up some of that sunshine,” she whispered under her breath.

In her world, even prisoners were entitled to yard time.

Zarek might insist she wasn’t a prisoner, but it certainly felt like one with Tamarr, her smiling attendant, waiting outside the door to shadow her movements. And how every stone corridor twisted into another without ever leading to a gate, a courtyard, or a door that opened to the world beyond.

No wonder they called it the Keep.

She fiddled with her medallion on the slender chain. Honoring the treaty. Attending lessons that were boring her to the edge of sleep, while unearthing her rebellious teenage self again. So how come her compliance did not feel the same as freedom? What were her actual rights in a realm governed by magic instead of law?

If she pushed too hard, would the protections promised to her aunt dissolve? Would Zarek reconsider the treaty? Not that she believed he would. But a good lawyer never stopped stress-testing a contract, even one she’d already signed.

What else could she do? Return to her chamber and stare through another window, imagining paths to home that did not exist?

No.

This was a prison.

An elegant one. But a prison all the same.

A drop of water struck the desk in front of her.

She blinked and looked up, just as another droplet fell from the ceiling.

Then another.

Students murmured as more droplets fell, light at first, then heavier.

“Stop, whoever is doing that,” the professor snapped.

Suddenly, the rain started pouring from the ceiling in a torrential cascade, as if they were sitting under a waterfall. Books were abandoned. Chairs scraped across the floor as students rushed for the corridor while water drenched their classroom.

Angela was soaked within seconds as she rushed out of the room.

“Is that normal, Professor?” she asked, as rain continued to fall from a perfectly intact ceiling.

“No.” The professor frowned at the rain from the open doorway. “This room is protected. Magic should not function here.”

“So does that mean class is over for the day?” She didn’t even bother hiding the hope in her voice. She really wasn’t good at high school.

“Until we stop this, yes,” he muttered. “All students will remain in line. No one is to move until the culprit steps forward.”

“Does that include me?” Being ordered about like a schoolgirl again grated against her spine more than the soaked clothes.

“No,” he replied quickly. “You’re free to go.”

Free? Really?

“You don’t have the power to do this… do you, Miss Duboise?”

“Pfft. I wouldn’t even know how.” She laughed at the absurdity of it.

“Stop! Whoever is doing this, just stop?” The professor waved his wand at the raining room, but nothing changed. “Magic cannot work here—the room is warded.” He tried again with the wand.

But the rain had intensified so much that the water was spilling under the door.