hear.
His cold, icy eyes narrowed on me for a moment and then he released me, nodding. "Good," he stated. "That's the first step in your training."
I gaped at him. "A sentence?" I blurted. "You've got to be joking."
"I do not joke," he replied.
That much was obvious, asshole, I thought, but once again I kept my mouth clamped shut so the words wouldn't accidentally slip out. That had earned me many nights of no food with the nuns.
Sorrell turned away from me and strode across the courtyard until he stopped several paces away from a large block of wood. He lifted his arm and pointed a finger. Immediately, the temperature in the area dropped and long spikes of ice formed in mid-air, hovering just behind where his finger was aimed. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent the spikes shooting through the air and straight into the block of wood.
"Offensive magic can kill," he began, and I realized that this was part of my first lesson. I hurried to stand closer to see better. Sorrell didn't appear to realize until he moved to face me and found me right there. He froze for a split second and then continued, his body moving stiffly as he stomped past me to the hay bales, his words flying off his tongue.
"Defensive magic is meant to protect," he said. "While offensive magic is meant to attack. Neither of these is the core of what the purpose of magic truly is."
"Then what is it?" I piped up.
Sorrell paused as he hefted a hay bale off of its pile and dropped it in the middle of an open space. "Magic comes from the Gods," he stated, slamming the hay down. "And therefore, it comes from nature. Nature is neither defensive nor offensive—nature does not fight, it simply is."
I wrinkled my nose. "And that means..." I hedged, waiting for him to finish his explanation.
He rolled his eyes as he rounded the bale of hay and crossed his arms over his chest. "It means that magic is a part of nature. It is in how you use it that determines what it becomes."
"Yeah?" I crossed my arms over my chest as well, mirroring him. "Well, I'm terrible at using it."
Sorrell inhaled as if he were trying to contain a violent emotion. His chest expanded and his eyes closed briefly and when they reopened, they centered on me. "If you say something like that again, you will regret it," he warned me.
I snorted. "What are you going to do?" I asked. "Spank me?" He arched a brow, but neither confirmed nor denied it. I frowned. "You can't."
"Oh?" He tilted his head to the side, a sinister grin appearing on his lips. I was so used to him frowning that seeing anything close to a smile on his face made my whole body respond. I stepped back and let my arms drop to my sides. "Try it," he offered.
And give him permission? I thought. No, thank you. Then again … I remembered what it had felt like having him over me on the bed back in the Court of Frost. In that moment between sleep and wakefulness, he'd been all over me—hotter than I'd ever seen him. His mouth had devoured mine.
Instinctually, my thighs tightened and I bit down on my lower lip. Sorrell's gaze moved down to that lip, focusing on it for a long, silent moment, and then he straightened and turned away, the muscles in his shoulders pulled taut as he strode back to his place in front of the hay bale.
"Enough delaying," he snapped sharply. "I want you to practice on this." He kicked the bale.
I stepped forward, looking from him to the hay, "Practice on that?" I repeated. "What exactly am I supposed to do with it?"
"You're going to light it on fire," he stated.
I blinked. "I think I heard you wrong," I said. "It sounded like you said I was going to light it on fire."
"You did not hear me wrong," he replied. "You are."
"I can't!" I hissed at him. How many times was I going to have to tell him before he got it through his thick skull? I couldn't use my magic like that!
"Yes, you can," he said. "And you will." I shook my head. He was crazy. "At least give it a try, Cressida," he ordered. "How am I to train you if you don't even try?"
I grunted and grumbled under my breath. "You're going to regret this," I muttered