Page 70 of First Ritual

Boom.

I gasped and set my hand against the rock and quartz tunnel.

“That’s us,” Rooke said gleefully, then grabbed my hand. “Quick!”

Dragged along, I broke into a run behind her. We weren’t the only ones. We crammed through the archway to the divination learning center. The far wall was occupied by a hovering picture.

I slowed, trying to understand what I was seeing.

“Our mission was to seize your weapon stores,” Rooke said in my ear.

There had to be twenty or so magus fighting. I sucked in a breath as Corentin appeared behind May. She dropped to the ground, and he was gone again. Brutal. Sven threw an infused weapon directly at another magus. The object latched to the person’s chest, appearing to electrocute the man.

I covered my mouth.

Smoke filled the space, and a hearty groan went up from those in the divination center.

“The worst,” Rooke said, glaring at the screen. She explained to me, “It’s an unspoken rule that we don’t use charms that obscure vision. Makes it hard for us to watch the fights.”

When the smoke cleared, over two-thirds of the fighting magus were down. I hadn’t seen Huxley before, but he was there now. Corentin appeared behind him. Huxley summoned a staff and hooked the magus’s ankle. They blurred in an exchange.

Sven was at the door we’d been guarding. On his knees. My brow cleared. He must be figuring out a barrier.

I whistled low. “That doesn’t look good.”

“For you,” Rooke said, grinning. Her grin disappeared as Wild strode into view on the screen. “Dammit,” she hissed along with half the crowd in divination.

Folding my arms, I did my best to ignore the smug looks from Fertim. They had total faith in Wild. It was gross.

He looked around at the various duels, seemingly with all the time in the world.

Sven ripped open the door to our weapon stores, then turned to face Wild as five Vero magus poured inside the storeroom.

“Quick,” Rooke urged them on, then said, “Both teams place anti-summoning charms on their stores, so we need to physically carry the weapons out.”

One of the magus exited, two weapons in hand. It was Bedwyr. Hand blurring, Wild pulled a black ball from the pocket of his hooded robe and hurled it.

Not at Sven.

At Bedwyr holding the stolen weapons. He began to freeze. Though freezing wasn’t really the right word.

“That’s a rock charm,” Rooke said in outrage.

I squinted. “He’s turning to rock?”

“There’s no need for that.” Her outrage was echoed, while the other half scoffed at their response. “That’s what you do when you’ve got a score to settle. It’ll take Bedwyr days to come right.”

Fucking. Wild. I gritted my teeth together. “Days?”

“Yep. Probably be Monday before he can move easily again.”

There went my date with Bedwyr.

That high-handed bastard. He’d done it on purpose.

Sven summoned a sword. Wild didn’t summon a thing. They engaged in battle. Where Sven blurred, Wild almost seemed to move in slow motion. Sometimes a dagger appeared in one of his hands for a beat before he banished it, but Wild seemed to prefer fighting with his fists.

I’d never seen anything like it. He flowed in a battle art akin to yoga. My eyes tracked the way he used Sven’s size against him. His footwork and overall positioning seemed effortless.