Chapter 49: Forged in Blood: Chapter 47

Turning down the path, I head deeper into the trees that border the campus. The branches grow thicker here, the air is filled with the scent of pine, but it is not enough to mask the witch’s scent.

“Why are you following me, Professor Drakos?” Her voice carries from the left of me, and I watch the figure ahead vanish into thin air.

I stop and face the direction of the sound. “You were always a very gifted witch, Enora.”

She snorts. “A simple parlor trick.”

“Why are you hiding in the shadows? You have nothing to fear from me.”

Her musical laugh rings through the air between us. “All witches fear you, Alexandros.”

I roll my neck, trying to stave off the centuries-old hurt that still rises to the surface whenever I recall the extent of their treachery. Sufficiently calmer, I speak. “As they should.”

She hums softly, and I sense her drawing closer. “The sting of their betrayal has not lessened through the ages, no?”

“Not for some of us. There are others who were far too quick to forgive.”

She steps into view, the moonlight highlighting her silver hair and delicate features. “Was I supposed to disown my entire species because of the actions of⁠—”

“Of thousands, Enora,” I growl the reminder.

“Most of whom are no longer with us.”

True, and it is little solace to me. “But their legacy remains. Their teachings. Do you think I do not hear what the young witches are taught within these walls?”

She purses her lips, her gray eyes narrowed. “Why were you following me?”

“Why are you interested in the girl?”

Her eyelids flicker, but she hides her surprise quickly and folds her arms across her chest. “I take an interest in many girls in this school.”

I resist the urge to wrap my hand around her throat. “You know who I am talking about. Why is she being summoned to Silver Vale? She has no magic.”

Enora rolls her eyes. “She was not summoned to Silver Vale. One of my talented witches has taken a liking to her and simply invited her over.”

I glare at her. “Do not insult my intelligence. Invitations to Silver Vale are not simply given out to just anyone.”

She tilts her head, eyeing me curiously. “Why are you so interested in this girl, Alexandros?”

“It is no secret that my boys find her company …” I rake my fingertips through my beard to buy myself time as I search for the most appropriate word. “Enchanting. I am simply curious as to why the most powerful witch in Montridge is enamored with her too.”

She flutters her eyelashes. “You do flatter me so, filous mou.”

My friend. I scoff. Does she really think me so obtuse that I would fail to see through her avoidance tactics? She is skirting the question, and that alone tells me that she knows something about Ophelia. “Why, Enora? Does she possess magic?”

Her slender throat convulses. “Not that I am aware of.”

I inhale deeply, trying to tune into her emotions and determine if she is lying, but as powerful a witch as Enora is, she can easily mask them from me. “So? Your interest in her is what?”

Her gray eyes turn stormy, and I feel the wall she is erecting between us. “A favor for an old friend.”

My hackles rise. “What favor and for whom?”

“Merely to take the girl under our wing. Teach her the ways of our kind and determine if she has any latent power that we can bring to the surface.”

I narrow my eyes and scan her face, but she has all her defenses heightened against me. “And does she?”

“Like I told you a moment ago, none that I am aware of.”

She is hiding something else. “Who is this old friend?”

“There are secrets I must keep, even from you, Alexandros.”

Frustration rages inside me. “I could bite you and discover your truths.”

She shakes her head, her lips curved ever so slightly. “It would take you a century to break down my walls.”

I flick my tongue over my fangs. She has forgotten who I am. Closer to a few years, but still … “Time is something I have plenty of,” I say, bluffing.

Smiling fully now, she runs her nimble fingers over the lapel of my suit jacket. “But sweet Ophelia does not.”

Dammit! My rage burns for a different reason, tinged with possession and fear. “Do you intend her any harm?”

Her beautiful face twists with her own rage, causing her facade to slip for a second and reveal the old woman beneath the youthful mask she invests so much power in upholding. “How dare you suggest such a thing. It is more than likely your offspring would cause her harm than I.”

As much as that burns, if Ophelia were not what she is, that would be true, so I refrain from refuting her assertion. “If any harm comes to her, Enora …”

She tips her chin up. “If harm befalls Ophelia, it will not be at the hands of anyone from Silver Vale.”

All my instincts scream that her sincerity is real. But someone is undoubtedly pulling the strings of Ophelia’s destiny. Someone powerful enough to bind her powers and secure her attendance here with a minimum of suspicion. Is it the same old friend that Enora speaks of? Are the witches the key? And if so, I cannot believe that they are doing this for Ophelia’s protection, not given their history with the elementai. So why? Do they intend to use her power for their own ends? Manipulate her somehow?

I rub my temples, plagued once more by too many questions and not enough answers.