Winter Fire (The Witchling #3)(6)

Beck was studying her, and she assessed she’d revealed too much. She flushed and looked away.

“Tell Amber I’m fine. I’ll adjust, and I don’t need a mentor, especially one who’s gone all the time.” Turning away once more, Morgan began her journey towards the frozen creek that ran beneath a bridge at the edge of campus.

“Do you want company?” he called after her.

“No.”





Beck watched the gorgeous redhead walk away, now understanding her instructors’ concerns. The normally cheerful head instructor for Light Arts, Amber, had been genuinely upset about one of her newest students, who she described as throwing up walls at every attempt to talk to her.

Tempted to go with Morgan despite her refusal, Beck debated for a moment then turned towards the Square. He was almost relieved Connor McCloud – Morgan’s brother – wasn’t standing behind him with the familiar glare of warning. If Morgan didn’t want to talk to him now, he’d deal with her later. He had other issues on his plate this morning.

Issues that should have been more important than seeing the beautiful girl with a peaches-and-cream complexion, red hair that clashed with the white wonderland around them and pine-colored eyes. A fire element, Morgan’s magick was the opposite of Beck’s calm, balanced earth magick. Hers sizzled off the ends of flame-hued hair and sparked in her eyes.

Beck shook his head to clear it of her effect. Frustrated with her new student, Amber insisted he talk to her first thing this morning. He didn’t expect to feel a renewal of the strange connection they’d had when they met. He preferred blondes, and his initial attraction to girls was normally gone after a few days.

It wasn’t with Morgan, which was weirding him out. He still felt his pulse race dangerously when he saw her.

Maybe it’s better she wants nothing to do with me. Except that it was his duty as the Master of Light to determine what to do about her and her brother, both of whom were caught between Light and Dark and neither of whom had taken their trials at the age of seventeen, like they were supposed to. Connor was eighteen and Morgan would be soon.

Beck returned to the warmth of the main schoolhouse and Amber’s office, where the Light Arts instructor was catching up on grading the projects assigned to the witchlings under her charge. The projects were contained within small glass bubbles that littered her desk. Some held waterfalls, others snow tumbling from miniature clouds while still others featured tiny trees sprouting to life. None contained fire, a reminder of how rare the element was.

“I went, and she’s not interested in talking,” he reported. “Anything else, before I start working on my normal duties?”

Amber glanced up from her laptop. “She won’t even thaw to the infamous Beck charm. I thought you could get anyone to talk to you, especially girls.” Her words were accompanied by a wink.

“I didn’t really try,” he retorted. “If I wanted to …” Stop, Beck! He ordered himself silently. Not thinking before he acted was how he got into half of the messes he was trying to deal with now.

“The next step is counseling,” Amber said. “I have a feeling that won’t go over well with her parents.”

“Or her.”

“Maybe you should bring it up to her first.”

Beck eyed Amber, who was trying not to smile. “Aren’t you her instructor?”

“Aren’t you the Master of Light?”

Beck sighed.

“You have to learn to help people, right? Go help her.”

“I don’t want to help her.”

His honesty was too quick to stop. Amber looked up, startled.

“I mean, of course, I want to help her, but I don’t think I’m the best person. She doesn’t like me,” he rushed on. “Her brother doesn’t like guys anywhere near her.”

“Amazingly enough, Connor is a model student. I expected the opposite from the both of them,” Amber said. “Well, if she doesn’t like you, and you won’t talk to her, I’ve got to call her parents and tell them Merry Christmas – come get your kid or we’re putting her into counseling.”

Beck instantly felt badly. He was being selfish, not wanting to deal with Morgan, because he was attracted to her. The idea he’d rather see her sent away than try to talk to her made him feel like a fool. He was exhausted from the past few weeks and his recent bout of insomnia, but he still had a duty to the witchlings. For once, it would be nice if the problem at hand wasn’t urgent.

“Shall I make that call, or do you want to give it one more shot?” Amber asked.

“One more shot,” he muttered. “I might try talking to Connor first.”

“That’s a great idea. They seem really close.”

Irritated at himself, Beck nodded and left. He didn’t look forward to talking to Connor anymore than he did Morgan. But at least Connor might give him more than one-word responses. Maybe, if Connor understood his sister’s danger of being sent home, he’d talk to her for Beck.

Beck felt even worse for this thought. He should be able to handle one rogue fire witchling. He needed to clear the air with Connor anyway, so the protective, elder brother didn’t bite off his head for talking to his sister.

Like a few other of the witchling guys, Connor was gathered in the Square, watching the tree go up. At least he had made good choices of friends: Beck liked the boys flanking him.