Magic Forged

Yeah. I’d kill someone for Killian Drake.

It went against everything I had been taught. Every rule I’d sworn to follow. Heck, it would probably make my parents cry if they were alive to hear of it, and it was almost certain that House Medeis would not welcome me back after this even if Mason was kicked out.

But I didn’t care.

I’d spill blood and kill the vampire if it meant saving people important to me. That was doing what was right.

Chapter Twenty

Hazel

I snapped my eyes open and again reached for my magic.

My body shook, and weirdly I began to glow a bright blue hue. Something in me crackled, then shattered, and I could feel it: magic. Not the faint flickers I had to fight to take in, but the vast, endless stretch of wild magic that cradled the world.

I pulled more and more of it through my blood, and it made me feel alive. I felt a part of me unwind that I’d never realized how crushed it made me feel. It was stronger than a shot of adrenaline, simultaneously beautiful and terrible.

With magic pulsing through me so much I probably glowed in the dark, I found I could stand. My face burned as I felt my wizard mark appear on the left side of my face, but this time the sensation lasted longer and stretched up my forehead to my hairline, and down my cheek, past my jaw, flowing over part of my neck. I inhaled, then picked my way toward the vampire, whose flames now stretched knee high.

“I’m giving you one last chance.” My voice was stronger than I thought it could be, and I smiled as I felt magic thread through my hair and twine around my fingers. “One last offer of mercy: stand down.”

The vampire didn’t bother to look back at me—she was staring at Killian with a mad delight. “Never!” She laughed. “Not now—not ever!”

“Then die.” I reached out and grabbed the back of her neck, unleashing the magic my blood harbored.

Blue bolts of electricity shot from me, surging through the encircled area with such bright intensity I couldn’t see anything.

The vampire screamed—but it only lasted for a moment before magic consumed her body, turning her to ash.

But the magic wasn’t done.

More electricity poured from me, until it felt like I had magic coming out of every pore. The phoenix statue split and crumbled, and the dragon dagger started to melt in the heat.

A huge bolt of my magic that cracked with a deafening boom punched through the top of the barrier, shattering the whole thing like glass. It soared up, smashing into the ceiling of the meeting room, cutting a gaping hole clear through the roof.

The entire building shook, and magic swirled around me.

Everything was too clear, too crisp. I could barely breathe because of the overwhelming sensations. Every part of me tingled and burned—but there was so much magic out there. A world of it! Why didn’t we do more? Why didn’t we use it the way it was meant to be used?

Overwhelmed, I felt my knees fold under me, even as lightning still crackled around me.

“She’s going into shock!” Josh yelled from what sounded like a mile away.

“Your Eminence—don’t! She’s too dangerous right now!”

The world was bright blue with magic, and everything was so hot. I tried to sever my connection, but now that magic freely floated through my blood it wouldn’t leave. I collapsed on the ground, my fingers twitching.

Something cold covered my eyes, offering a bit of relief.

“Breathe. You’re not a passive wizard, Hazel. This isn’t going to end you—magic would have to take you complaining and arguing every step.”

I breathed, and clenched my jaw as I forcefully cut off the pull of magic. I could still feel it around me, but it no longer seeped through my blood like it wanted to.

The hum of electricity faded, and I relaxed. Something cool wrapped around me, and I was vaguely aware that I was being moved before my blood roared in my ears, and I passed out.

I woke myself up with my own snores.

Yeah, how’s that for smooth? I was so loud I woke myself up with a snort that made my throat hurt.

I opened my eyes and promptly scrunched them shut. The shades were drawn, letting the orange-y gold light of sunset stab my poor eyes. I fluttered them open and closed, snort-sniffing in irritation when they teared up, making my vision blurry. Eventually, though, I was able to see again.

I was in my bedroom. My chisa katana was polished and arranged on its sword stand on my dresser, and even from here I could see my open closet stuffed with petite-sized suits. But for a moment I wasn’t certain where I was…because sitting at my bedside was Killian Drake.

And this time he wasn’t sitting back in his chair or looking like a model leaning against a wall.

No, he was artfully leaning forward, one forearm resting on my bed. His other hand—weirdly, strangely?—was intertwined with my own. He held my forearm up, propped up with his, and held my arm so close to his face I could feel his breath on the inside of my wrist. It was a weirdly intimate position—like something you would do for someone you really loved.

So…what was he doing? More importantly why was he doing it? I mean, this was Killian Drake. Even after all my time in Drake Hall I wasn’t optimistic enough—or deluded enough—to think he loved anyone. Not even himself, probably.

Killian unashamedly met my gaze, his obsidian red eyes bored. “Hardly the fairy tale awakening,” he said. “You look more like a troll.”

It took two tries to speak. “Your bedside manners suck.”

Killian’s right eyebrow twitched up. “You think I care?”

“What happened?” I tried to pull my hand from his so I could rub my eyes, but he wouldn’t give it up.

“You decided to make a go of securing the title Most Muleheaded, Stupid, Inept Idiot in the history of the world,” Killian said wryly.

“I remember that.” I shifted in bed a little, relieved to find I could move my body—with pain, yes, but at least I could feel everything again.

I froze abruptly as the details of the fight came back. “The seal broke.”

“I imagine you are referring to the seal on your magic, in which case you are correct.” Killian studied my wrist with puzzled interest. “Though from what I saw—and Celestina reported to me—there was no physical trigger. Do you know what did it?” He finally raised his gaze from my wrist, the red in his eyes more expressed in the flush of sunset bathing my room.

I leaned into the pillow propping me up and stared at the ceiling. My memory was slowly piecing itself together: the vampire, my injuries, and the overwhelming clarity the full force of magic brought to me. What had I been thinking right before the seal broke?

Hazily, it returned to me. I had decided I would spill blood and kill the murderous vampire if it meant saving people important to me.

“No,” I said out loud. “No—it can’t be.”

Killian was back to inspecting my wrists. “Hm?”

“Seals can’t be broken by thoughts, can they?” I asked.

“Can’t they?” Killian returned the question. “Isn’t true love and all of that junk nothing more than inner resolve?”

“But there’s no way my parents would do this to me.” My voice shook as tears threatened my eyes. “They wouldn’t seal my magic and condemn me to a constant fight against bullies and make the only way out to decide to kill someone. That’s against everything House Medeis stands for!”

Killian peered at me with interest. “That’s what broke the seal? You decided to kill the vampire.”

“To save you, Celestina, and Josh—yes.” I flung my free arm over my eyes and held my breath, trying to ward off the sobs that threatened to shake my shoulders.

How could they do this to me? Why would they do this to me? They were my parents, but it seemed like they did their best to make my life a misery! And why wouldn’t they want me to have stronger magic when they did?

In my pain, I twitched, automatically squeezing Killian’s hand.

I was shocked when, after a moment, he returned the squeeze.

He exhaled deeply. “I can’t believe I am the one suggesting this, but are you certain there isn’t a part of this you’re missing?”

I kept my arm over my eyes. “Like what?”

“Isn’t everything done for the House?” Killian asked. “It seems strange that your parents would paralyze the Heir when all of your kind revere the House and model their lives around its existence. Technically, they’ve hurt House Medeis even more than they hurt you in all of this. So perhaps there is a reason behind it all—you just can’t see it yet.”

I slowly lowered my arm as I mulled over his words.

He was right. As much as I had come to hate and loathe the saying, “The House comes first.” It had been drilled into all wizards since they could sit up as babies.

And obviously my magic—or lack of—had a huge effect on House Medeis.

Was it possible? But what reason could possibly justify all of this? It’s not like Mason could have been plotting already when I was born—he would have been ten!

The condition for breaking my seal had shaken me, but at least now I didn’t feel like crying. Maybe—when all of this was over—I’d ask Mr. and Mrs. Clark and the other senior wizards. They might know something. And in the meantime, I’d lose myself in training.

I awkwardly cleared my throat and shifted a little, making the bed creak and my muscles stiffen. “Did you find out anything more about her?”

Up went one of Killian’s eyebrows. “The murderer? Yes. Her name was Solene—previously Solene Flores. She was turned in the early 1900s by the Flores Family before opting to become an Unclaimed four years ago.”

“Why’d she leave?”

“It seems she bucked heads with the Flores Family Elder.” Killian brushed my wrist with his thumb, his touch cool and strangely comforting. “I don’t have certain confirmation of it, but it seems he disliked her and made her time with the Family…difficult.”