My brain, which usually processed magical theory at lightning speed, suddenly ground to a complete halt.

  I was exhausted. My magical core felt like a hollowed-out cavern, completely drained by that massive blast. My knees had given out, and someone had caught me.

  That someone was Demian.

  I blinked, my cheek pressed against something solid. It smelled like ozone, burnt expensive fabric, and... mint. Sharp, cool mint and something darker, like rain on hot stone. I could hear a heartbeat thudding against my ear. A steady, rhythmic thump, thump, thump.

  My arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, clinging to him like a drowning sailor to a piece of driftwood. And his arms were around my shoulders, holding me firmly against him. His chin was resting on the top of my head.

  We were hugging.

  I am hugging the Prince of Darkness. The realization hit me harder than a physical blow. A wave of heat that had absolutely nothing to do with magic rushed to my cheeks. My stomach did a violent, embarrassing flip.

  I gasped, pushing myself back so fast I nearly tripped over my own boots in the sand.

  "I—uh—sorry!" I stammered, frantically brushing invisible dust off my tunic, unable to look him in the eye. "I lost my balance. The... the mana drain. It makes you dizzy."

  Demian’s arms fell to his sides. He cleared his throat. He suddenly looked very interested in a broken piece of the spectator stands.

  "Naturally," he said. His voice was a little tighter than usual. "A common side effect of total channel depletion."

  I risked a glance at him.

  His custom-made, terrifyingly expensive black coat was ruined—singed and covered in sand. His pristine silver hair was mussed. But that wasn't what made me stop breathing.

  Demian's skin was normally as pale and cold as marble. But right now, high on his sharp cheekbones, there was a faint, unmistakable flush of violet.

  Is he... blushing? The Ice Demon was blushing.

  He caught me staring. His purple eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he quickly turned his head, staring rigidly toward the exit of the Arena.

  "We should return to the dorm," he said stiffly, walking past me. "Before the rest of the Academy wakes up and wonders who blew up the training grounds."

  "Right. Yes. Good idea," I squeaked, scrambling to pick up my heavy Compendium from the sand.

  The walk back to Dorm 13 took exactly twenty-two minutes.

  I know, because I counted every agonizing second.

  We didn't say a word. The silence was absolute. It wasn't the cold, angry silence from this morning, when I had ignored him in the kitchen. This silence was heavy. Electric. Every time our shoulders accidentally brushed in the narrow corridors, we both practically jumped apart.

  I kept stealing glances at him out of the corner of my eye.

  He had let me blast him. He had intentionally made me angry, insulted me, and threatened to abandon me, all just to break through my mental block. He had taken a kinetic shockwave straight to the chest just to help me cast a spell.

  I bit my lip, staring at the cobblestones. Why does he care so much? We finally reached the heavy oak door of Dorm 13. Demian reached out to push it open, his hand lingering on the brass handle for a second. He took a deep breath, reconstructing his mask of aristocratic boredom.

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  He pushed the door open.

  The common room was fully awake.

  A fire was roaring in the hearth. Bram was sitting at the dining table, eating a massive plate of eggs. Pip was reading a scroll on the sofa. And Roc-ta was stretching on the rug.

  As we walked in, all movement stopped.

  Bram’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. A piece of scrambled egg fell onto his beard.

  Pip slowly lowered his scroll, his large Gnome eyes darting back and forth between me and Demian.

  I knew we looked terrible. I was covered in sand, sweat, and soot. My hair was a wild, frizzy disaster. Demian looked like he had been thrown out of a moving carriage into a dirt pit, his aristocratic clothes scorched and torn.

  But it wasn't just the dirt they were looking at. The tension radiating off us was so thick you could cut it with a broadsword.

  Roc-ta’s wolf ears twitched. She lifted her nose to the air and sniffed loudly.

  "You smell like lightning," the Wolf-girl announced bluntly. "And... awkwardness."

  "We were training," Demian said immediately. His voice was loud, defensive, and completely lacked its usual smooth confidence. "In the Arena. For Battlemagic."

  Bram raised a bushy eyebrow, looking at Demian’s ruined coat. "Training? Lad, it looks like she used you as a battering ram."

  "It was a practical demonstration of kinetic force," Demian lied smoothly, though the faint violet tint returned to his cheeks. "Valerie required a moving target."

  "I hit him," I blurted out, pointing at Demian. I didn't know why I said it, I just wanted to break the unbearable silence. "With magic. I actually did it."

  Pip’s jaw dropped. "You cast a spell? Without a circle?"

  "A big one," I nodded, suddenly feeling a surge of pride beneath the embarrassment. "I blew up the spectator stands."

  Bram started to laugh, a booming, echoing sound. "By the Ancestors! The human finally bites back! Good for you, lass! Though I wager the Prince here won't be underestimating you again."

  Demian stiffened. He avoided looking at me, staring intently at the staircase leading to the boys' wing.

  "The assessment is complete," Demian announced, his tone clipped. "She is... adequate. I am going to shower. Do not disturb me."

  He practically fled across the room. He didn't walk; he power-walked, a highly undignified pace for a Nox Prince.

  "He's limping," Roc-ta observed as the door to his hall clicked shut. She looked at me with newfound respect. "You broke the Demon."

  "I didn't break him," I muttered, my face burning again as I remembered the feel of his arms around me. "I just... knocked some sense into him."

  I hugged my heavy book to my chest and backed toward my own hallway.

  "I need a shower too," I squeaked. "I have sand in my teeth."

  As I closed my bedroom door behind me, I slid down the wood until I was sitting on the floor. I dropped the book and buried my hot face in my hands.

  I had magic. Real, raw, terrifying magic.

  And worse... I was completely, hopelessly falling for the arrogant jerk who had helped me find it.