A dragon shifter novel Chapter 40

Enchantments

Allison

For a while, it is almost a game. Me ignoring him. Him seething beside me, radiating frustration like heat off a forge. His chair creaks as he shifts again and again, until finally, he snaps. My book slams open, his hand pinning the page flat. His finger jabs down hard enough to wrinkle the paper. “Okay,” he bites out, his voice a growl. “Hate me, whatever, like I could really care. But if I don’t do what Scorched told me to, then I risk being expelled, and if I get sent home, as a fucking failure to my father-” He cuts himself off, teeth clicking shut. The words hang there, half-born and sharp as broken glass. The memory of what I glimpsed in his mind, the cruelty, the bruises, the constant shadow of a father who broke more than he built, tightens something in my chest. Against my will, against my better judgment, sympathy flickers. It pisses me off that it does. I roll my eyes, pluck the book from under his hand, and start reading. Still not talking to him. Still not giving him the satisfaction, but I take notes. Sloppy ones at first, then cleaner as the words stick. Every so often, he leans over, tapping the page with his quill, correcting my mess. He doesn’t gloat when I get it wrong, doesn’t snicker or sneer. He points it out, and I let him. It’s silent cooperation, brittle as glass but holding. By the time Hill dismisses us, my hand aches from scribbling. I snap the book shut, ready to bolt. “After classes,” Cage says, his voice low but firm, like it’s already decided. “We’ll catch up on everything else you suck at.” I sling my bag over my shoulder with a groan. “Great,” I mutter under my breath, not loud enough for him to hear. By the time I escape the classroom, my head is pounding. I spot Tessa waiting for me just outside, bouncing on her heels like she hasn’t just been through an entire lecture. “Hey!” she chirps, looping her arm through mine. “What’s next? Please tell me it’s not another one of Hill’s classes, because you look like you’re about to murder someone.”

“Not yet,” I mutter, rubbing my temple. “I’ve got Enchantments.”

Her eyes light up like I just handed her a crown. “Yes! Finally, something fun. Come on, you will like this one, the professor actually lets us try stuff.” She tugs me down the hall, ignoring my slower pace until I give up and let her drag me. The Enchantments room is brighter than most classrooms, with glass orbs hanging from the ceiling like suspended stars. Each desk has its own little workbench with tools neatly arranged, tiny hammers, chisels and quills etched with runes; there are even jars of glowing ink. The air buzzes with magic, faint sparks dancing between the orbs as if the room itself can’t sit still. Tessa all but collapses into a seat, grinning at me. I slide in beside her, scanning the room warily. There’s a little too much light and way too many eyes. At least there’s no Cage, no Kael, no Evander. Just me, Tess, and a room full of people who don’t even know my name yet. “Today,” the professor says as he strides to the front, robes dusted with what looks suspiciously like silver shavings, “you’ll be crafting your first basic charm.” He claps his hands, and the orbs above brighten. “Nothing too explosive, I promise.” The professor is a tall, wiry man with hair so white it glows faintly under the orbs. His eyes are sharp; he’s probably seen a hundred years of trouble and is still amused by it. “I am Professor Fenwick,” he says, voice carrying with a soft warlock lilt. “I will be your guide into the art of Enchantments. Some of you will find this easy, some will find it maddening. Either way, you’ll learn.” He waves a hand, and the jars of ink on every desk stir, glowing brighter. “Today, we begin with something simple. A charm for vanity. Pick an everyday object, etch your rune, feed it a flicker of intent, and see what happens.” Tessa’s hand shoots up before

he even finishes. “Anything?”

“As long as it is not alive,” Fenwick says dryly, and the class chuckles. Tessa immediately grabs the plain wooden hairbrush from her desk kit. “This one’s perfect.” She shoves it toward me with a grin. “C’mon, Ally, let’s make our lives easier.” I raise a brow. “You really need magic to brush your hair?”

“Yes. Obviously. Do you know how much time it takes to tame this?” She shakes her strawberry curls for emphasis. I can’t help it, I smirk and pick up the brush. The rune quill feels oddly heavy in my hand, the ink shimmering like liquid moonlight. Tessa leans close, whispering directions like she already knows what she’s doing. “Curve it there… loop it here… no, not like that, you’ll make it explode—”

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15:30 Sat, Jul 11

Enchantments

“Explode?” I hiss.

“Kidding. Mostly.” She grins and dips her own quill.

30

We carve the runes together, side by side, her strokes neat and confident, mine a little shakier. Fenwick stroll past, his sharp eyes flicking to my brush. He says nothing, hums low in his throat, as if curious.

“Alright,” Tessa says, dramatic as always. “Moment of truth.”

She lifts the brush and drags it through her hair. Instantly, the strands smooth and curl, falling into glossy waves like she’s just stepped out of a salon. She gasps. “It worked!” Before I can say anything, she thrusts it at me. “Your turn.” I hesitate, then tug it through my stern tangled mess of hair. The brush warms in my palm, and the knots melt like butter, my hair falling soft, shiny, and perfectly styled in seconds. My jaw goes slack. “Okay… that’s actually kind of amazing.”

Tessa preens in the orb light, tossing her curls like a goddess. “We are never brushing our hair the old way again.” Across the room. Professor Fenwick watches me a little too closely, his mouth quirking like he’s just seen something interesting. What that is, I have no

bloody clue.

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