Page 48 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

She drew in a breath. “What did you say?”

My jaw snapped shut. I had slipped into her mind without even meaning to. I had done exactly what she was accusing me of. Exactly what I was constantly telling Enhart not to do to me. “I didn’t,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t you ever look in my mind again,” she seethed. She turned furiously on one heel, stomping down the corner and out of sight.

I sat opposite Mordric at dinner, angrily stabbing my meal. I’d taken most of my dinners alone in my quarters in recent weeks, so exhausted from training that I could barely scarf down a single mouthful. Tonight, I joined Mordric alone at his invitation. Enhart had excused me from several nights of training in order to find more unwitting strangers to practice on, but I’d instead spent hours wandering the castle alone, too upset over my argument with Niamh to even try.

“Is something wrong?” Mordric asked, eyeing me warily.

I shook my head. “No.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He rose, dragging his chair behind him so that he could sit beside me. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but your emotions are usually written quite plainly across your face. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I huffed, letting my silverware clatter onto the table. “It’s Niamh.”

“What about Niamh?”

“We had a stupid argument.”

He took my hand, bringing my fingers to his lips. I sighed as he kissed me there, siphoning some of the bitterness from my heart.

“About what, exactly?” he asked.

“Enhart says that learning to block psychal magic is one thing, but I need to know how to project it, too.”

“I agree with him.”

“Except I can’t get past his wards,” I groaned. “It’s like coming up against a wall of solid ice. He told me that while I work up my strength, I should practice on an easier target to help build my abilities.”

“I see.”

“I tried it, and it worked. But I chose one of the valets to practice on, and Niamh caught me. She’s furious.”

“She doesn’t understand.”

“That’s what I said! Except …” I trailed off as he ran his thumb along my wrist. It was incredibly distracting.

“Except what?” he asked.

“I may have accidentally looked into her mind while we were arguing. Which she didn’t appreciate,” I admitted.

“I see.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, my fingertips trailing along the edge of the thick tablecloth. “Do you think what I did was wrong?” I asked in a whisper.

“No, but it seems like you might.”

The fire crackled as he flipped my hand over in his, touching his lips to my wrist. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Mmm?”

“First, allow me to insist that your penitence is unwarranted. Your ability to enter the minds of others is paramount to your future role as my adviser.”

“I know.”