The Sorcery Code (The Sorcery Code #1)(37)

Blaise felt an answering flare of anger, and he suppressed it with effort. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said evenly. “You don’t know her—”

“Oh, and you do?” Her eyes narrowed into slits.

“Are you jealous?” Blaise asked in disbelief. “Is that what this is? You and I are over. We’ve been over ever since you voted to murder my brother!”

“Jealous?” She looked livid now. “Why would I be jealous of this, this . . . thing? It’s nothing more than a few strings of code and life experiences of some dirty peasants. I have a man now—a real man, not some hermit hiding among his books and theories!”

“Good,” Blaise snapped, hanging on to his temper by a thread. “Then you won’t interfere in my life again—”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t,” she said, her voice low and furious. “It’s not me you’ll be dealing with—it’s the Council.” And she began walking down the stairs, toward Blaise.

“You will not go to those cowards with this!” Blaise felt his own anger starting to spiral out of control. He would not let the Council kill another person he cared about.

“I’m going to do whatever I want,” she said sharply. “And you’re going to face the consequences of your actions, just like Louie did—”

At the mention of his brother, Blaise felt something snap. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said fiercely, physically blocking the stairs.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” Her eyes were blazing like fire. Her hand flashed toward him, slapping him across the face before he realized what she was about to do.

His face stinging and his mind in turmoil, Blaise caught her wrist before she could strike him again. She screamed with rage, yanking her arm out of his grasp and stumbling back a few steps. And before Blaise could do anything, he heard her starting to recite the words of a familiar deadly spell.

Blaise’s blood boiled in his veins. He’d never done battle with another sorcerer like this, but he recognized what she was doing. She was about to hit him with a blast of pure heat energy—a spell that would incinerate him on the spot.

His mind oddly clear despite his heart racing in his chest, he started chanting his own spell. It was what he used to protect himself during particularly dangerous experiments. A few key phrases and an Interpreter litany later, he was surrounded by a magical force structure that embedded nothingness in its walls. And just as he finished and saw the telltale shimmer in the air, Augusta’s spell hit.

It was like the sun had descended into his house. Even through his shield, Blaise felt the unbearable heat. Within seconds, he was covered with sweat. All around him, the walls and furniture were on fire, and thick, acrid smoke filled the staircase.

“Augusta!” he yelled, terrified for her. Without a protective spell of her own, she would be burned to a crisp.

A moment later, however, the smoke began to clear, and Blaise saw her standing on the top of the staircase, still very much alive. The wave of relief that washed over him was strong and immediate; no matter what she’d done, he couldn’t wish his former lover dead—not even if it meant that Gala would be safe.

Of course, right now he had to save his house. Thinking frantically, Blaise recalled a verbal spell he’d used in his youth—a spell that would wash his hands in a matter of seconds. All he needed to do was enhance its potency.

As he began saying the words, he could hear Augusta starting her own verbal coding effort. It distracted him for a second, and he realized that she was working on a teleporting spell for herself. If his own spell failed, Blaise would be the only one to burn.

Shutting out her voice, he focused on his code, changing some parameters to have the soapy water multiplied a thousand fold. Foam started streaming from his hands, covering the blazing fire all around him in a matter of seconds. Now he could pay attention to Augusta—only it was too late.

Just as he started up the stairs, she finished her own spell and disappeared into thin air.

She couldn’t have gotten far—long-distance teleportation was difficult under the best circumstances and required far more precise calculations than what she would’ve had time to do—but all she needed was to get out the door and to her chaise. Still, even knowing the futility of his actions, Blaise rushed down the stairs and out of the house.

And in the distance, he saw a red chaise flying rapidly away. Pursuit at this stage would be pointless and dangerous.

Still shaking with anger in the aftermath of the confrontation, Blaise went back into his house, determined to salvage as much of it as he could. When he entered, he saw that the foam had contained the fire in the hallway and on the stairs. It was only when he went upstairs that he learned the full extent of Augusta’s wrath.

His entire study—all the notes he’d made, all his journals, everything from the past year—was gone.

Somehow she had managed to burn everything.





Chapter 23: Gala


After the meal, a change of clothing, and numerous instructions on how to appear more like a commoner, Gala was finally on her way to see the rest of the village.

Walking through the streets, she studied the small, cheerful-looking houses and stared at the peasants passing by—who stared right back at her. “Why are they looking at me?” she whispered to Maya after two men almost fell off a horse trying to get a good look at her. “Is it because I look strange and different?”