Dragon's Oath (House of Night Novellas #1)(9)

“An excellent idea.” Pandeia turned her wide brown eyes on Anastasia. “I am assuming your response to these inappropriate requests has been to remind those mistaken fledglings that under no circumstances will you perform any type of love spell for them.”

Anastasia drew a deep breath. “No, Priestess. That was not my response.”

“Not your response! Why would you–,” Diana began, but her mate’s raised hand cut her off.

“Explain,” was all the High Priestess said.

Anastasia met the vampyre’s gaze unwaveringly. “I, too, have no use for love spells. Even when I was first Marked and began to show talent in spellwork my instinct told me love spells were dishonest. I am inexperienced but not naïve. I know love cannot exist with dishonesty.”

“Insightful yet not an explanation,” Pandeia said.

The young professor straightened her spine and shifted her gaze to Diana. “You called Lankford ‘dynamic’ and ‘popular.’ Did you not?”

“I did.”

“Would you also say he is arrogant?”

Diana lifted one shoulder. “I suppose I would. But that is not unusual. Many of our most talented Warriors have a sense of arrogance about them.”

“A sense of arrogance, yes. But is it not tempered with the experience and control of an adult vampyre?” Anastasia asked.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed.

Anastasia nodded and then her gaze went back to her High Priestess. “There has been much talk of this Dragon. I have listened carefully. You are right when you say I do not know him, but what I have heard of him is that Dragon Lankford is a fledgling who relies on his sword and smile rather than his wisdom and wits. My instincts tell me that if my infatuated students saw this fledgling for who he really is, they would soon lose interest.”

“What exactly did you tell the fledglings?” Pandeia asked.

“I told them I could not possibly break the rules of this House of Night and cast a love spell, but what I could do is create a drawing spell for each of them.”

“There is a fine line between a drawing spell and a love spell,” Diana said.

“Yes, and that line is created by clarity, honesty, and truth,” Anastasia retorted.

“But I have a feeling each student who came to you was being clear and honest and truthful about wanting Dragon Lankford’s love,” Pandeia said, looking disappointed in her young professor. “Therefore, casting a drawing spell on Dragon would work as a love spell. Semantics is the only thing that differs between the two.”

“That would be true if a spell was cast on Dragon. My drawing spell will be cast on each of the students who came to me instead.”

Pandeia’s disappointment changed to a satisfied smile. “You intend the spell to make the fledglings see Dragon with more clarity.”

“It will draw for each of them a vision of fledgling Lankford that is honest and truthful, and not tainted by childish infatuation with an inflated ego and a handsome smile.”

“It could work,” Diana said. “But the spell will take finesse and skill.”

“My instinct tells me our young professor has both aplenty,” Pandeia said.

“Gratitude for your confidence in me, Priestess!” Anastasia almost shouted in relief. Then she stood. “With your permission, I would like to cast the spell tonight, during the full moon.”

Pandeia nodded in agreement. “It is the perfect time for endings. You have my permission, Daughter.”

“It is my intent to end any unhealthy infatuations tonight,” Anastasia said, fisting her hand over her heart and bowing to her High Priestess and her mate.

“You might not end all of the infatuations with Dragon tonight. Someone may still be drawn to all that arrogance and smiling, egotistical charm,” Diana called after her.

“Then that person deserves exactly what she gets,” Anastasia muttered.

CHAPTER FOUR

The spell began utterly, completely right. Later, Anastasia could only shake her head and wonder how anything that started so well could have ended so disastrously.

Perhaps it happened because she’d taken the time to change from the dreadfully confining clothes she’d mistakenly begun wearing since becoming a professor. After all, had she not been at that particular part in the spell, at that exact moment in that specific place—had one of those elements shifted just a heartbeat—everything would have changed.

Well, everything did change, just not as she’d intended.

The moonlight had felt so good, so right on her bare arms. That was one of the reasons she’d gone farther afield and closer to the mighty Mississippi River than she’d intended. The moon had seemed to be calling her forward, freeing her from the silly, self-imposed restraints she’d been placing on herself, in what was in retrospect a ridiculous attempt to be someone she was not.

Anastasia now wore the article of clothing she loved most: her favorite long, soft skirt the color of blue topaz. Just a month before being called to this new, wonderful House of Night, Anastasia had been inspired by a Leni-Lenape Indian maiden’s dress. She’d sewn glass beads and shells and white leather fringe all around the skirt’s hem and the low, rounded neckline of the sleeveless, butter-soft tunic top. Anastasia did a little twirling dance step, setting the shells and fringe in motion. I will never wear those horrible, constricting clothes again. When I was a human that was all I was allowed to wear. I won’t make that mistake again, she told herself sternly, and then she flung back her head and spoke to the moon that hung heavy in the inky sky, “This is who I am! I am a vampyre professor, an expert in spells and rituals. And I am young and free!”