Morgan couldn’t have been more surprised when Harper came to her defense, and she was unable to stop gaping at the witch, wondering who’d kidnapped the real Harper.
Energy gathered in the room, magic building, the mood turning volatile, a powder keg ready to explode. Morgan sensed something—or someone—was pushing them to this end, but couldn’t imagine why…unless the elves wanted their focus off of them and suspicions on each other.
Morgan moved to stand in front of Harper, willing to take the brunt of the attack, since most magic had only a minor effect on her.
Only it wasn’t needed.
“Enough.” Kalvin pushed his way through the crowd and edged between the women, standing protectively in front of Harper, glaring furiously at his sister. Morgan waited for him to back down, bow his head and submit, but he stood his ground. From the vindictive gleam in Olivia’s eyes, Morgan had no doubt he would pay dearly for standing up to her.
A curious energy rose from Kalvin, as if triggered by the possibility of violence, similar to energy she’d felt recently, and it took her a second to connect it to the same manic energy that swarmed Ward when he fought.
The need to protect, the delicious urge to tear into others spread through her veins. Despite knowing they were not her emotions, it was hard to separate herself from them. A few others were affected as well. They slid through the crowd like ghosts, reaching for their weapons, their only aim to kill anything that got in their way.
“We’re leaving.” Olivia snapped at Kalvin, as if sensing the shift in the room.
A muscle ticked in Kalvin’s jaw, and Morgan had no doubt Olivia had put a spell over the kid to force him to obey. He shuffled forward, his loyalties clearly torn, but ultimately he had no choice but to obey the one he’d sworn to protect.
Morgan couldn’t let him be taken.
“No, he stays.” If he left, she feared he would never be seen again.
Olivia whirled, her eyes throwing daggers. “You have no right. He’s under my—”
“I might not have the right, but she does.” Morgan pointed to Harper, then dropped her bomb. “She’s his mate.”
“What?” Three voices spoke at once with various shades of emotion.
Olivia was furious, while Kalvin looked so damned hopeful, Morgan’s heart hurt. Harper was flabbergasted. Harper and Kalvin turned to stare at each other, unable to tear their eyes away, their gazes lingering as if memorizing every inch of the other.
So much hope shimmered in their eyes that Morgan’s chest tightened.
That’s what finding a mate should be like.
A mate was a rare and precious thing. The connection between them would bind them together for life, make them crave each other’s touch. It would also make them risk everything to keep the other safe.
Growing up, she was surrounded by witches who perverted the connection and thought only of their own comforts. To her shock, she’d learned that most witches actually adored their mates.
Morgan mentally reached out and touched her own fractured connections, wondering how her own mating had gone so wrong.
“How do you know?” Harper’s voice was sharp, murder darkening her blue eyes, clearly thinking Morgan was cruel to offer such hope. “You can’t know.”
“I didn’t until now.” Morgan shrugged, unable to identify what made her so sure. When they stood next to each other, it was like two tuning forks with the same pitch were ringing in the silence.
“No one can know that.” Harper stalked toward her, fury tightening her features, magic snapping around her. “If you—”
“If you don’t believe me, then touch him. Trust me, you’ll know then.” Harper’s mouth snapped shut, and she looked flustered, even fearful, at the prospect.
Kalvin held out his hand, remaining mute during the whole conversation, a small tremor running through him as he patiently waited for Harper to approach, gazing at her as if she was a goddess come to life.
Almost reluctantly, Harper lifted her hand, her breathing jittery.
The audience around them fell silent in anticipation.
Their fingers met…and nothing happened.
Olivia laughed almost manically. “That’s just perfect.”
Harper’s mouth tightened, her eyes narrowed dangerously as she turned toward Morgan, humiliation and disappointment coloring her cheeks.
“What the hell are you playing at?” Venom all but poured from her question, any neutral ground between them ripped away. She tried to yank her hand back, but Kalvin refused to let go. Pink strands of magic snapped around Harper as she lost control, the tiny sparks sinking into him.
The big guy grunted in pain, his eyes dilating until they were nearly pitch black.
Harper sucked in a sharp breath, falling silent, her attention riveted on Kalvin. Morgan watched as a vine slowly crept across the back of Harper’s hand to twine about her wrist in a swirl of black and green. A single leaf unfolded slowly among the thorns.
Both Harper and Kalvin remained silent as they gazed at each other, their dumfounded expressions turning into wonder, then joy.
As the magic touched Kalvin, she realized what had been hidden from her—he was the same species as Ward—whatever the hell that was. He was merely untried, the potential to be a phenomenal fighter and hunter hovering out of reach, waiting to be triggered.
Waiting for his mate.
Kalvin drew Harper into the protection of his body, glaring with narrowed eyes at the crowd around him, searching for any threat. And not liking what he saw.
“Good riddance.” Olivia’s gleeful expression had soured. “He’s worthless as a protector anyway. You’re welcome to him.”
As Olivia whirled and stormed away, Morgan resisted the urge to cheer.
Harper looked pissed, twisting to stand protectively in front of Kalvin. When she went to follow Olivia, Kalvin wrapped his large arm around her tiny waist, easily holding her to him. “She’s not worth it.”
“Let’s give the new couple a little privacy.” MacGregor made a shooing motion with his hand, taking control of the scene, and the kids scattered.
The students stared at her speculatively as they passed. Finding a mate was rare. Matching a person to their mate was an unheard of trait…and very valuable.
Great.
Way to fly under the radar.
If she hadn’t been noticed before, she sure as hell was now.
To her surprise, most of the students seemed respectful, almost protective of her. While Morgan didn’t trust it completely, she was grateful for the reprieve.
“How long have you known?” Harper’s voice was low and demanding as she barged into Morgan’s personal space, much too close for comfort.
Morgan scowled, propping her hands on her hips. “First you were mad when I said he was your mate, now you’re mad and suspect me of keeping him from you. You can’t have it both ways.”
Harper took a slow, deep breath, as if to calm herself. It didn’t work. “Answer me.”
Morgan nearly snorted when her question came out even more demanding. “I spotted him at the Academy only yesterday. Instinct warned me that he needed to stay at the Academy. But I didn’t know why…until just now.”
They both gazed at her speculatively, and Kalvin pulled Harper against him, as if unable to stop touching her. “She’s speaking the truth. If not for her interference, we would never have met.”
Morgan edged away from the couple as people crowded around to congratulate them, and her heart suddenly ached at the wonder in their eyes when they looked at each other, the way they couldn’t bear to have any distance between them.
“You did good, lass.” MacGregor spoke from behind her, and she twisted away, shrugging off his compliment.
“They would’ve found each other eventually.”
He raised a bushy white eyebrow. “Balderdash. You—”
“Were you able to discover what race Kalvin descended from?” Morgan interrupted him, not wanting to field any qu
estions she didn’t know how to answer.
Taking the hint, the old man rubbed his chin. “There are a couple of possibilities. He’s not a shifter, and whatever magic he possesses, it is contained, more likely a recessive trait.”
He patiently waited for her next question, knowing that she was working through the possibilities, but Morgan didn’t know how to piece together her suspicions.
“Have you seen him fight?”
MacGregor gave her a subtle nod, his eyes sparkling with interest. “He has potential, but he lacks the most basic training.”
“I saw someone fight today in a way that I’ve never seen. The way he moves—it’s like how they describe the ancient warriors in your old books. He’s all fire and brimstone, death and violence. He was fighting a dozen elves and still three moves ahead of everyone else. His violence was infectious. The need to battle was seductive and hard to resist. I felt the pull fighting alongside him, an invincibility and confidence that the fight would end in victory. Given time, I think he would’ve been victorious against a dozen trained elven guards. If I’m right, Kalvin is the same species. I think he’s a—”
“Careful, girlie.” The description captured MacGregor’s attention, his posture slowly stiffening with each word.
Her mouth snapped shut, and Morgan tensed when she saw his eyes flick upward.
A telling reaction.
They were being watched.
The space was like a fishbowl, the guards prowling around the perimeter of the room and walking the balconies above the main room, always observing.
Funny, she didn’t feel any safer with all the extra protection.
They didn’t feel like guards.
She called them what they really were—jailers.
Morgan couldn’t help but wonder what they really wanted. Elves never did anything out of the goodness of their hearts. The students were collected and brought here for a reason.
She needed to find out why before it was too late.
Chapter Eight
“Why don’t you allow your guys to get you settled? We can talk more later.” MacGregor patted her shoulder affectionately. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Morgan watched him limp away, her stomach sinking to her toes, wishing they were anywhere else.
“Come.” Draven dragged her away, nodding to a nearby doorway. “Why don’t you take a few minutes for yourself and wash?”
Morgan could’ve kissed him.
A few seconds alone sounded like heaven. “Where’s Atlas?”
The silence behind her was so loud it rang in her ears. She slowly came to a stop and turned. Both men found the rest of the room fascinating, refusing to meet her eyes.
“Did he not make it through the portal?” She went cold at the thought, her ire rising. “You said he—”
“He arrived with us yesterday.” Draven faced her, his eyes going hard. “We haven’t seen him since.”
Morgan stiffened.
Disappearing that way wasn’t like Atlas.
“Tell me exactly what happened.” She couldn’t get over the itch between her shoulder blades, instinct warning her that Atlas was in deep shit.
“We fought to stay at the Academy. We all thought you were still there, but the school didn’t give us much choice. Once we passed through the portal, Atlas was the first to figure out where we landed. He guided us toward the castle, towing along more and more students as we found them. We had almost arrived when the elves sent out their welcoming party.”
She could only imagine how welcoming they had been.
“The last time we saw him, he was surrounded by his own kind.” Ryder’s voice was low and rough, barely human. His eyes had returned to their whisky color, his wolf retreating enough for him to finally speak. Compassion tinged his voice, as if suggesting Atlas abandoned them…abandoned her.
She refused to believe it.
“He remained at the Academy for a reason.” He was one of them, even if he didn’t admit it to himself or anyone else. She wouldn’t give up on him, even if they already had. “We need to find him.”
Neither Draven nor Ryder disagreed, though they didn’t appear very enthusiastic about the prospect. They shared a look, and she knew she wasn’t going to like what they said next.
“We’re not sure he wants to be found.” Draven’s frosted blue eyes were full of sympathy.
Their attitude and dismissal irked her, and she turned on her heel, resuming her walk to the bathroom. “You’re wrong.” She knew in her bones that he would have returned a long time ago if he wanted to have anything to do with his own people.
Both guys looked resigned, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Think of it this way…you get to sneak around the castle while outsmarting and eluding the elves. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
If anything, they appeared less than thrilled at the idea, no doubt displeased at the idea of her putting herself in danger. They were smart, though. They didn’t actually say anything…at least not where she could hear them.
They passed a room where a few of the elves were practicing with their weapons, each of them moving in sync. Even their training lacked passion. If it came to a fight between the two groups, Morgan had no doubt the assassins would be able to defeat the elves despite more than half of the students being untrained and the complete lack of weapons.
Not even one of the elves offered to help teach or practiced with the students.
Dickheads.
“They run this place with only a skeleton crew.” The guys shared a look at her speculative tone, and she shrugged. “What? Just in case we need to leave in a hurry. The resistance would be minimal. This place gives me the creeps. I would rather face the flesh-eating fog than stay here.”
Ryder’s eyebrows lowered dangerously. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just a feeling.” Morgan shook her head. It was more than that. “Do you know they’re hunting creatures out in the woods?” The weight of the warm stone against her side and the ache along her back were a dark reminder.
“Kincade and Ascher should be back soon.” Draven scowled as he surveyed the room again, searching for new threats and possible escape routes. “We can discuss our options then.”
Discussing them made her realize that Kincade and Ascher weren’t the only two missing. She hadn’t seen Ward since entering the castle, and she couldn’t help wondering what happened to him.
She wasn’t sure how she felt having him out of her sight. Everything about him spoke of danger—she just wished she knew whether he posed a threat to her and her people.
Being stranded in the primordial realm should have left her as uneasy as the rest of them, but the place honestly felt like coming home. Magic infused the very air, and every breath felt invigorating.
Too bad she knew shit about magic.
The guys had been putting off allowing her to train with magic, and what little she had learned, backfired when she practiced casting spells. Her magic didn’t seem to work the way anyone else’s did.
Maybe it was time to experiment on her own.
“I’ve been trying to open a portal home, but all my efforts have been in vain. Has anyone else been able to contact the Academy?”
“It’s been overrun. It’s no longer safe to return.” Draven shook his head, appearing a little lost. “The Academy has fallen.”
Morgan suddenly realized that while she had taken up residence there for only a few months, the Academy had been their home for years. She stopped outside the bathroom door, not sure how to react to the loss they must be feeling.
She took a deep breath, then spun and gave them both a quick, one-arm hug. “I’m sorry you lost your home.”
Draven stiffened slightly, then awkwardly curled his arms around her. “Don’t worry about it. They won’t be able to hold the Academy forever.”
Ryder didn’t hesitate to snuggle closer, running his hand slowly down her back before reluctantly stepping back. She missed their warmth immediately.
Unable to face either one of them, fighting a blush at the way their touch left her skin tingling, she escaped to the bathroom.
She washed her hands, splashed water on her heated face, but the more time that passed, the more her unease grew. It felt like a cage door was about to swing shut behind her.
She could no longer pretend nothing was wrong.
While she might have to bide her time for Ascher and Kincade to return, it didn’t mean she had to sit on her hands and do nothing.
It was time to track down Atlas.
But first…
She untucked her camisole, snatching up the little gargoyle statue before it could tumble to the floor.
Instead of rock, her fingertips met soft, gray leathery skin. The tips of the wings were frosted a pale gold, as if the bird had dusted tiny specs of gold onto the statue. The palm-sized gargoyle dog was now twice the size as when she first touched it.
Meaning it had been growing ever since they entered the void.
Blazed in the center of his chest was the tiniest image of a burning phoenix, the edges of its wings a deep yellow, rippling into a deep, burnt red toward the center, a flame she could have sworn flickered even as she watched, making the little beast appear to be breathing.
“Holy shit.”
At the sound of her voice, the dog blinked up at her sleepily, his bright eyes the red of live coals, as if lit from within by pure lava. The bird had somehow merged with the hound. She couldn’t tell where one magic ended and the other began.
“Phoenix?”
He snorted, batting at his nose, giving her a bashful look over the tops of his large feet, and she shook her head. “Okay, not your name.”
He yawned, revealing thick fangs, then gave her a toothy smile when he noticed her watching.
“Impish little bugger, aren’t you?” She was utterly charmed. “I’m going to call you Loki.”
The snout twitched faintly, his little butt wiggled a tad, his tail curling around her fingers, as if approving his name.
The small movement seemed to exhaust him.
The burnt red and deep yellow flame on his chest flickered once more.
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