Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
She opens her mouth to say something but then averts her eyes, rubbing her lips together. She knows that whatever she says back won’t be hidden from her classmates’ ears.
Instead, she puts her hands on her hips and throws her head back. As she does so, her chest comes forward. She’s in a pretty yellow gown with a V-neck lined with ruffles that’s a little too low-cut for school or even daytime, her full breasts on display. All the other girls in the class are wearing dresses with high necks, though they also probably cost half the price. Katrina Van Tassel in all her pretty, blonde, defiant glory, stands out like a sore thumb here.
“Will that be all?” she asks, giving me a way out. I won’t get any further with her today. I’ll have to demonstrate bestowal on someone else.
“That will be all,” I concede.
“Katrina, may I have a word with you,” I ask as the class ends and she’s about to leave the room. A few of the students make a low “oooh” noise under their breath as they go.
“It’s Kat,” she corrects me like I knew she would. She punctuates that with a heavy sigh as she walks over to my desk, her gown rustling, the paper and pen she borrowed from her classmate Paul clutched in her hand.
I rest against the edge of my desk and wait until the last student leaves the room before I say, “I just wanted it to be clear that just because you’re a Van Tassel, that doesn’t mean you’ll get any preferential treatment from me.”
“I think you’ve made that very clear,” she says with an indignant scoff.
“Have I?” I ask, leaning forward to stare at her intently. “Because in all the classrooms I’ve taught in, it’s punishable to talk back to a teacher the way that you do.”
For a moment I imagine having a ruler in my hand giving her a hard paddling for being so obstinate. I have to push the image away before I get aroused.
“That’s only because you refer to yourself as a god,” she says, thoroughly unrepentant. “And you think yourself one too. Why else would you try and read my memories without my consent?”
I stiffen. “How did you know I was doing that?” I thought I’d learned how to hide it, how to look through memories and slip them into my own consciousness without the person ever finding out, like a street thief in the night.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I could tell, that’s all.”
“So then you figured out how to block me from your memories,” I muse. “I couldn’t see any of the images like I usually can. I could only feel them.” That had only happened once before where someone’s memories were off-limits, leaving only their emotions behind. Naturally it just left me wanting to find out more about him.
Now I feel the same pull of curiosity towards this girl.
She tilts her head at me, a strand of curled straw-blonde hair falling across her delicate face. The girl may look like a complete lady, but she reminds me more of a princess, the kind that’s accustomed to getting what she wants. “I suppose I did,” she says thoughtfully.
“That in itself is worth studying,” I say, feeling excitement well up inside of me, the prospect of heading into the unknown. “We may be here to learn about energy manipulation, but being able to stop unwanted energy is a gift in its own right.”
“Perhaps,” she says, woefully unimpressed. “What was it that you were trying to glean from me?”
“I was curious as to why you act like you don’t want to be here. I thought it was tradition for the Van Tassel witches to attend this school. At least, that’s what I learned from your aunts.”
Her jaw tightens a little. “Perhaps I wanted to make my own decisions. It had never been my destiny to attend this school.”
“What changed?”
She swallows and look down as her fingers fiddle with a ruffle in her skirt. “It became important to my mother. So it became important to me.”
“I haven’t met your mother, I don’t think. It’s hard to say when so much of my time has been a blur here so far.”
She frowns at that. “For you as well? I feel like I can’t quite get my head on straight. I don’t even remember the last time I was here, when I came and took the tests. They say my memories should return, but they haven’t yet.”
“I’ve been here nearly a month, and I still don’t remember much of the tests,” I admit.
“Oh,” she says, looking crestfallen, her full lower lip jutting out. “Anyway, I don’t think you would have met my mother. She doesn’t have much to do with the school.”
I have to wonder why, given the history of the Van Tassels.