the edge in the flame.
“Eloise has a lot to learn about Ravenhold,” he says, turning his eyes to me. “She has a lot to learn about respect.”
Screw this. I flick a look at the flame and it grows suddenly and quickly, engulfing the card in Dorian’s hand. The fire reaches his finger tips and Dorian drops the card, swearing. He grits his teeth as he stares as the flames dissipate on his fingertips and my pulse races.
Why hasn’t this hurt him?
He throws me a smirk before crying out in fake pain. "Omigod! What happened? Do you know how dangerous this is?” He cradles his uninjured hand against his chest. “I could’ve burned alive!”
Francesca rubs her head. “I-I don’t understand. The flame is usually under control.”
“Mmm. I can’t imagine what caused this.” He rubs his hand. “Perhaps somebody in the room, possibly new to Ravenhold, needs her magic warding more strongly. Especially if she’s attacking other students.”
“Dorian, you’re full of shit,” says Zeke, voicing what others around daren’t say. “That flame barely touched you.”
“Just how dangerous are you?” he asks me in a hoarse, frightened voice. Mocking me.
“Zeke’s right. The flame hardly touched you,” I retort. “I barely did anything.”
Beside me, Oriana sucks in a breath and whispers, "Shut up."
“You admit to using fire magic?” asks Francesca in horror.
All eyes in the room turn to me and perspiration breaks out on my back.
Shit.
If I wanted to slap Dorian earlier, I’d like to smack him in the face with my fist right now.
Or command the flame still burning in the bowl to engulf his perfect, murderous body from his beautiful head to his toes.
“Eloise, leave this room now and report to Thaddeus Wormwood in administration.” The serene, understanding Francesca’s eyes glitter with fury. "He will deal with your magic transgression."
"That's on the second floor," puts in Dorian helpfully. "I wouldn't want you to get lost."
Rising from my beanbag, I smooth my clothes and feign nonchalance as I leave. The whole class is silent enough for me to hear Ethan’s throaty chuckle.
So far, my first day at Ravenhold isn’t going well.
Chapter Eleven
My trip to administration leads to a dressing down from the man who gruffly introduces himself as Thaddeus, a physician. I endure ten minutes of the pneuma vampire intruding my thoughts and strengthening the blocks against my ability to perform magic.
He’s perturbed and despite my attempts to hold back the magic still flooding my system, Thaddeus easily picks up how unrestrained it still is.
I sense he’s an old vampire—perhaps from around the time of the Purge. His dark hair looks greased to his small head and his old-fashioned suit appears unwashed. His fangs are visible too; there’s no necessity to hide from humans here, useful for those who prefer not to retract them.
He looks at me as if I cause a bad taste in his mouth, pulls out a manila folder like Angus's, and opens it.
“Perhaps you need some extra assistance,” he says. I widen my eyes as he licks his finger to turn the page. “Ravenhold is warded against magic use. There are powerful spells inside and outside the building, which dampen your powers from the moment you step on the island. A small number of you manage to circumvent those wards.”
“I know all this, and I didn’t deliberately circumvent anything or use a spell,” I protest. "My roommate told me magic lingers for a few days."
How is this becoming the story of my freaking life? Eloise the Accidental Witch—necromancy and now fire. Perhaps I shouldn’t scorn Francesca too much for her holistic approach.
"And that's what they all say," he mutters.
“What type of assistance do you mean?” I ask.
He pushes his chair back and stands behind the walnut desk. His room contains a tall glass cabinet filled with a variety of stuffed animals. At least I think the glassy-eyed rabbits and foxes are from a taxidermy hobby, and not frozen by magic.
“I have made notes about your troubling mind to pass on to Marcus. New measures will come into place soon for those who struggle the most with rehabilitation. You are a good candidate.”
The way he says candidate, with another sneer, raises hairs on my arms. I don’t think life as a candidate is a good thing.
Thaddeus waves a hand as if I'm a nuisance. “You may leave now.”
He says the words stiffly, and I grasp at what to say but have no idea, as he opens the door and gestures at me to step away from him and out of