Page 52 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

“Now you grow it. Try to turn it into a kind of shield.”

I released my breath, conjuring the mist again. Thanks to Mordric’s intervention, we’d finally moved on to the second tenet—elemental magic. I spread my fingers, allowing the mist to grow. It was almost like a living being, the way it expanded and contracted above my palms. I grinned as it thickened, obscuring the space between Enhart and me.

“Good,” came Enhart’s voice. “Useful in case you ever need to make a quick getaway, and good practice for elemental wards.”

“I thought wards were just in our minds,” I said.

He shook his head. “There are many kinds. An elemental ward provides physical protection like a shield. You’ll use similar mechanics to conjure one.”

I let the mist fade, coming face to face with my tutor once again, and it fell like snow around him. No, my eyes widened, it was snow. I watched in awe as crystalline flakes coated the ground beneath us. The snowflakes contrasted sharply with Enhart’s black hair and clothing, making him look like a statue that had been left out in the garden through the winter. He held out a hand, studying the flakes that landed there.

“Now that’s a beautiful bit of magic,” he said absently.

I stuck out my tongue, catching a flake on its tip.

“Humans are so odd,” he observed, his head cocked.

“I didn’t know I could do this,” I replied, as the last of the snowflakes melted into the earth.

“You’re following your instincts,” he observed. “It’s a good sign.”

“This comes much easier to me than psychal,” I admitted.

“That’s because you already use elemental magic every day.”

I frowned. I didn’t spend my days conjuring snowstorms in my bedchamber. “What do you mean?”

“Most of the basic magic you already know has its foundations in elemental. Take your trick with the broom, for example. You’re not just enchanting the apparatus, but also the air around it to make it move.”

“I never thought about it that way,” I said. “Wait, how do you know about that?”

He shrugged. “It’s the first thing Mordric told me about you.”

“That was the first thing he told you about me?” I asked. “Not that he’d met a powerful witch who fought off her assailant?”

“As I understand it, you didn’t actually fight him off.”

“I might have if Mordric hadn’t ripped his throat out,” I mumbled.

“In any case,” he said. “You’re making progress. Although, I suggest we stop here so you can get some rest before tomorrow.”

He turned on one heel to leave, and I trailed after him. “What’s tomorrow?” I asked.

“Something far more challenging. Fire.”

I stopped short. I could practically smell the scorched thatched roofs of my village. “I can’t do fire.”

“Then we’ll practice until you can,” he called over his shoulder.

I picked up my pace, darting ahead of him to block his path. He shot me an annoyed look, his newfound patience apparently running thin. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“I really don’t think I’ll be any good with fire,” I insisted, wringing my hands. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze searching. I shuddered as a chill bloomed between my temples, like I had forced my head into a bucket of ice water. My concern began to fade, giving way to a crushing sense of calm. “Hey!” I cried, raising my wards. “Stop poking around in my mind.”

“If you’re not going to tell me what’s going on with you,” he began, stopping short as a vampiress appeared before us, her crimson curls whipping her face. I stared at her, my lips parted. I was fairly certain that the cold didn’t bother vampires, but she was shivering violently. Little wonder given she wore no cloak, merely a long black gown with a neckline that dropped nearly to her navel.

“Enny,” she said curtly, her voice high and her accent polished. “I’ve been waiting for hours.”

I glanced sideways at the prince. “Enny?”