Page 67

Great. Fucking fabulous. “At least I know where to find you when I finally get tired of your bullshit and decide to kill you.”

“Such vicious words for a mage who doesn’t know how to use her affinities.”

Pausing, grip on the cart tightening until the metal frame groans, I glare at him. “One of these days, Drake, I might decide it’s worth the risk to watch your face as my dagger slips between your ribs. Even if it kills me in the process, seeing your eyes filled with fear? That’ll be worth dying for.”

His laugh is bitter and jagged like shattered glass. “Trust me, little mage, I’m not worth dying for,” he says, expression hard.

“Oh, now you’re playing wounded soul? Guess what, Drake? No one fucking cares! Tell him, Carver. Tell him that this untouchable facade is overdone.” I look at Carver, but he’s staring at Drake in confusion.

That gives me pause, but I quickly dismiss my curiosity. Whatever. These two can enjoy their unsettled bond while they wait for a tether to make it all better. I have things to do. Like finding out everything I can about the chief justice.

Things, as it turns out, are not so easy. Simply having a name isn’t enough. All I can find about the chief justice are articles about the good things he’s done. His role and responsibilities on the ruling council. There's a brief mention of a family in his biography, but when I try to search for them, nothing useful comes up.

All the familial ties for high-ranking officials are scrubbed from the internet and the paranormal database. It’s annoying that they can live in anonymity, but the rest of us have all our information publicly available. The only interesting piece of information I found is a picture of him with Chancellor Tweed.

Questions about why the chief justice was there that night he took my sister or what he was asking Drake to do loom over my head like the dark bruises smeared across the sky as I make my way to the pit. Petrichor, earthen and musky, is heady in the air. A storm is brewing.

I quicken my pace, cutting through paranorms heading to their dorms for the evening.

“Watch it, slut!” someone snaps. Someone who’s clearly been listening to Melody and her little minions. After my little stunt with Bellamy at the bash, rumors of me trying to be a bond wrecker have spread all over campus.

I swear Melody is trying to raise an army against me. And for what? For hurting her feelings? Is she that fragile? What exactly does she think I’ll do? Defy Vaeloria’s will and force a bond? No one has ever been able to do that.

“Oh, look, it’s the Feral trying to fuck her way to the top. Who’s going to tell her she’s a gutter rat?” A burst of laughter follows that one.

Grumbling under my breath, I choose to ignore whatever they’re saying and push into the doors for the pit. Even if I want to, I can’t fight every Foundation insulting me. Much to my relief, aside from the two mages I’d rather not see, the pit is empty today. I won’t be dodging more insults, but the last thing I want is to be alone with these guys. The muscles of my jaw are so tight a wicked throbbing rattles my brain.

They watch me approach.

My hackles rise. I don’t like the way they’re staring at me. Stopping in front of them, I cross my arms and level them with a look. “Let me guess. We’re going to meditate again?”

“Sit.” Carver points to the spot I usually take.

Drake settles in his seat. I still don’t know why John was talking to him or what he was asking him to do. All I know is, if Drake is working with that guy, I want nothing to do with him.

“Raina,” Carver says in that warning tone of his. Don’t start. Do what I said.

I’ve been so agitated ever since I got stuck in that stupid ward of his that part of me wants to stomp my feet and throw a fit, but the two of them would probably take too much satisfaction in my frustration, so I simply press my lips together and join them, crossing my legs.

My tutor’s gray eyes rove over my face before he nods in approval. His hair is messier than usual today, a few errant strands brushing over his forehead. “Today we’re going to try something. Do you know what Drake’s affinities are?”

“No.”

“His illusioncraft is beyond anything this world has ever known,” Carver says, glancing at the mage.

Drake is trying to appear unfazed, but I’m pretty sure he’s constipated. Or at least, that’s the way his face looks. So he can cast powerful illusions. That’s good to know. Maybe he’s the reason I saw that image of the fire the other day. “And his other affinity?”

“Not important,” Drake grumbles. “Get on with it, Carver.”

“I want you to link with Raina’s mind⁠—”

“The fuck I will,” Drake snarls at the same time I shout, “absolutely fucking not!”

Carver laughs. The sound is so unexpected, it shocks Drake and me into a second of silence that my tutor seizes. “Don’t tell me you two are afraid. Drake, the big bad mage who swears nothing scares him? And Raina, you’re so stubborn and defiant. You’re telling me a little bridge between your brains for less than an hour is too much for you?”

“I just want nothing to do with that.” I make a vague gesture in Drake’s direction.

He scoffs so hard, I can feel it in my chest. “Trust me, little mage, the feeling is mutual.”