“Hey, if it gets you a date, who cares?” I pointed to a glass jar near his elbow. Unlike everything else in the shop, it wasn’t labeled—probably because the contents were easy to recognize. “Almonds, right? I’m starving.”

“Those are poisonous.”

Uh. Okay, maybe it should be labeled after all. “Never mind.”

Smiling, he wrapped up the last packet and ducked into the back room. A minute later, he reappeared and held out his hand. Into my palm, he deposited half a dozen small candies in colorful wrappers and a scrap of paper with a name and phone number.

I read it upside down. “Thanks, Brian. You’re cool.”

Five minutes later, Sin and I walked out of the shop. I was carrying the brown bag full of her purchases because she was clutching her grimoire to her chest, cheeks glowing with delight.

“Can you believe he signed my grimoire?” she gushed.

“Yeah, uh-huh. He was kind of grizzled, though. Like a hipster lumberjack.” I popped a second pink candy in my mouth. It fizzled on my tongue, sugar and strawberry and an odd but not unpleasant nutty aftertaste. “What about the cute cashier? He was trying to catch your eye.”

“Was he?” She squeezed her battered grimoire. “Kelvin Compton is a modern legend among alchemists. He invented transmutation recipes that we use regularly in …”

She went technical again and I stifled a sigh. Cute Boy’s number was in my pocket, but it might be kinder to toss it in the trash. The last thing that boy’s ego needed was to listen to Sin idolize his boss for an entire dinner date.

I crunched through my candy, then unwrapped another one. Maybe I wouldn’t mention these either. Ya snooze, ya lose.

Chapter Nine

The driver dropped us off under the manor’s grand carriage porch. We passed Sin’s purchases and grimoire over to Bret, the helpful footman, then headed right back out. As we crossed the circular drive, our breaths puffed white in the December air. The day was unusually dim, the clouds low and heavy. A few determined snowflakes fluttered past us, defying the usual December rain.

Kai was off with his electramage buddies and Ezra was sleeping, but according to Lily, Aaron was substituting for her class this afternoon. I was curious to see him in action, because honestly, imagining him as a teacher was weird.

Sin and I followed shallow white stairs, bordered by stone railings and winter-bare trees, to the academy’s white lecture hall, positioned on a hillside so the windows looked down on the castle and the distant lagoon. Inside, the halls were quiet, the classes in session. We wandered around for a few minutes, peering through the small windows in the classroom doors.

“This feels creepy,” I whispered, stepping back from a door behind which a class of older teens were watching an instructor write on the smart board.

“Yeah,” Sin agreed. “Maybe we should find a receptionist. Do private academies have receptionists?”

“No idea.”

We retreated down the hall and slipped out the back door onto a sweeping lawn of dark green grass. Snow drifted down with increasing frequency, the chilly air more tranquil than usual for the season.

“Well,” I began, “since we can’t find Aaron, I guess we should—”

Halfway down the long building, another door swung open. Aaron walked out, leading a line of students. Grinning at Sin, I waved to catch his attention. He angled toward us and the twenty kids followed him.

“Hey,” he said cheerfully. “What are you up to?”

“Looking for you,” I answered. “We want to share in Professor Sinclair’s infinite wisdom.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fresh out of wisdom, sorry. Teaching is boring—one of the many reasons I never joined my parents’ guild.” He glanced over his shoulder at his class. Lily, standing with three girls, waved to her sister. “It’s supposed to be a classroom lesson but I figured an impromptu field trip would be more entertaining.”

“Field trip where?” Sin asked dubiously.

“Just around the property.”

“Sounds fun,” I jumped in. “Lead the way!”

Aaron laughed. “Okay, dweebs,” he called to the students. “Everyone pair up, and if I catch you more than three feet away from your buddy, there’ll be consequences. Let’s go.”

I fell into step beside Aaron, and the students walked in a double line behind us. Frowning, Sin watched everyone pass, then fell in at the back. She must’ve been sending me “bad idea” brain waves, because uncertainty crept through me as Aaron headed for the tree line.

“This is okay, right?” I clarified. “Going this far from the academy?”

“Of course. Well, I mean, my dad will be pissed I didn’t stick to the lesson plan”—he grinned—“but this is a better way to learn.”

“What about the animal attacks? Tobias changed the curfew and everything because of them.”

“I can handle an animal,” he said confidently, and I had to agree. I couldn’t imagine Aaron having any trouble with a wild dog. We walked onto a dirt path beneath tangled branches, the students chattering unconcernedly.

“How much teaching is in your … itinerary?” I asked.

“A few lessons and lectures,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “They rope me into it every year, hoping I’ll finally catch the teaching fever or something. Hasn’t worked yet.”

I could hear the annoyance in his tone. “If you don’t like it, why not refuse?”

“It’s difficult when I’m here. At home, I don’t have any trouble tossing plane tickets in the garbage or blowing off the interviews they arrange for me, but …” He sighed. “It’s harder to disappoint them face to face.”

I winced sympathetically. “Don’t they know you aren’t planning to change guilds?”

“Oh, they know. They just don’t care.” His jaw flexed. “I know they want what’s best for me, but what I want barely registers with them. I’m not meeting their expectations”—he said the word like it was a dirty slur—“and they won’t stop pushing until I cave.”

“You won’t cave, will you?” I asked, alarmed. “You wouldn’t leave the Crow and Hammer?”

“No.” His expression softened. “I’m not leaving you guys no matter what.”

I relaxed again. The Crow and Hammer without Aaron … I couldn’t imagine it.

He tipped his head back, watching the sky as we walked. “I wish I could have a proper visit with them, you know? Just spend time with them without interviews and appointments and luncheons with the MPD Public Affairs Director.”

My head snapped around. Was that a random example or was it a meeting on his itinerary this week? I should’ve looked more closely.

Maybe deciding he was complaining too much, he forced a laugh. “Parents, right? Always think they know best.”

“Mm,” I agreed noncommittally. The trees crowded in as we walked deeper into the woods.

“How far are we going, Aaron?” Sin called from the back.

“There’s a clearing up ahead. We’ll stop there for our lesson.”

A hundred feet deeper into the woods was a spacious gap. I joined Sin under the branches of a squat tree as Aaron waved the students over to him.

“Okay, gang.” He looked across their attentive faces. I didn’t know if it was Aaron’s personality or if the teens always behaved this well for their instructors, but no one made a peep while he was talking. “Divide into five teams—and here’s the important part: group the most powerful mages together. Go on now.”

The students exchanged confused looks, then began muttering. An argument broke out between five kids who all claimed to be the strongest, but Aaron merely stepped back, watching carefully.

“What’s he up to?” I muttered.

“This will make the weaker kids feel like crap,” Sin agreed. Uncomfortable, she glanced around, then did a double take at the tree behind us. “Whoa. Is this a wild almond tree? You don’t see those very often.”

I peered up at the scraggy tree, its dark bark scarred and lower branches snapped and dangling. “Looks in rough shape.”

“Wild almond is a rare alchemy ingredient.” She rose on her tiptoes to peer into the upper branches. “I can see a few fruits near the top, but it’s picked over. Damn.”

Bickering and grumbling, the class finished arranging themselves into five groups.

“Good,” Aaron praised. “The strongest team and the weakest team, step forward. The rest of you, back up.”

Eight young mages, including Lily, moved forward, and the other twelve students retreated to the edge of the clearing. Aaron withdrew a switchblade from his pocket and flipped it open with an elaborate twirl. A bonfire erupted two feet in front of him.

“Is that a switch?” Sin whispered to me.

“Yeah, not one he uses much, though,” I replied. “He thinks it’s funny. A switchblade switch.”

Aaron spun the blade across his palm and the flames leaped higher, warming the clearing and melting the thin dusting of snow. “Okay, teams. Your job is to put out the fire. You get one attack each—and no, you can’t attack me. Extinguish the flames. Strongest team, you first.”

A boy from Lily’s group stepped forward, eager to prove himself. His face scrunched with concentration, then he flung his hands out. A geyser of earth shot from beneath the flames, making the ground shake. Debris showered down, but the fire flickered merrily, undiminished.

Lily shoved past the boy. She raised one hand, then sliced it sideways. A massive gust of wind whipped through the trees, rustling branches. The flames bent under the gale, sparks flying, but when the wind had waned, the fire kept burning.

Scowling, she fell back. The other two boys were pyromages and attempted to diminish the flames with their own magic, but they were no match for Aaron’s power.