Wicked Heirs (Electi Academy #1)

20. ~Alena~

20

~Alena~

Orpheus Hart had a way of easing me out of my comfort zone.

All right, there was no actual easing about it.

It was often harsh and jarring and his stark refusal to entertain weakness in the form of my fear of so much since before coming here, something I was gradually wearing away the shackles of. Bit by bit.

This was another step on the way toward doing that even more so.

Magic in Combat.

It was one of the advanced classes here at Electi Academy.

After our flying session the other night, he’d pointed out to me that my magic was already at a state of being able to entertain combat scenarios. Of course, he’d brought up my takedown of Talon as obvious proof of that, along with Talon and Xavier boasting on my behalf about my magical models and the control and detail that I was producing now.

I’d also confessed to Orpheus as to why I hadn’t made it obvious during any of my classes or to any of my professors as to what level I was now able to operate at, what I was now no longer afraid to operate at.

The reason was my concern about my control being harder to maintain during a combat scenario. It was a much more reactionary thing, which meant I had to have supreme control in every moment, with every move I made, something that I couldn’t always know beforehand, especially if I was reacting in response to an opponent.

Making a compromise, I’d agreed to come with Orpheus to his class and observe from the sidelines so I could see how it worked, how it was taught, and what I’d really be in for.

Sometimes fears were worse in our minds than they were in reality.

Sometimes.

Unfortunately, the only way to know if that was the case here was to put it to the test.

I stood watching the dozen or so students in the middle of the arena-like space, a space I’d never been to before, not even during my tour. Maybe the dean hadn’t wanted to put ideas in my head because I’d been volatile and on edge back when I’d first started here.

Either way, I was here now and Orpheus had gotten permission from the Professor who taught this course to allow me in to observe and take everything in.

Edgar Marlowe was a former Commander of the Dark Fae Army. Word had it—according to rumor and the bits and pieces that Orpheus had told me when I’d asked the other night—that Marlowe and the King of the Dark Fae had suffered from a major falling out concerning conflicting ideologies . It had been so severe that he’d not only resigned his position as Commander, but he’d also left the Dark Fae Realm altogether and come here to teach .

He was there in the thick of it now as the students mock-battled, a veritable multi-colored lightshow taking place as magic flew everywhere. Bolts of colored flames slammed into magically-generated shields, along with a couple of solid metal ones that provided protection against magical attacks. Some students were also wielding broadswords and battling with those, imbuing them with their magic. I saw one sword wrapped in purple flames like a sword of fire and I smiled as I made out Orpheus through the organized chaos, identifying him as its wielder. He swung and spun the sword with the fluidity and know-how of an expert swordsman. It was a truly impressive display, and his opponent, a sorcerer wielding yellow-colored magic, shrank back at the threat of his experience and skill.

Within a moment, he had the flaming blade just an inch from the guy’s throat.

His opponent knew when he was beaten and raised his hands instantly, snuffing out his magic and then laying down his sword.

Orpheus stepped back, then swung his head my way, smirking.

I rolled my eyes. He was far too happy that I’d witnessed his victory.

Before he could revel in it, Professor Marlowe stepped into the fray to take him on, the guy sporting a silver buzz cut that gave him a natural harshness and made his vibrant-green eyes seem shrewd and dangerous. He was all muscle and bulk, very similar to Orpheus’ build, and he was decked out in a pair of tactical pants, a muscle tee, and a matching aviator jacket.

Orpheus’ smirk widened and excitement lit his eyes at the challenge from him.

Of course the arrogant shit already thought he’d won before the battle had even begun.

Truth be told, I actually liked that about him. His sheer confidence and the unapologetic way he wielded it turned me on. And right now was definitely no exception.

My neck heated and I shifted my weight against the wall, trying to shake it off and focus on observing everything that I could from this session of Magic in Combat.

But I just couldn’t tear my eyes from the battle that had just begun between the former Commander and the Dark Fae Prince.

The match up alone was one for the ages.

Everyone in the room had clearly recognized that, because they ceased their own battles and sparring and then whispers broke out as they all gathered around to watch.

Orpheus made a dramatic show of shrugging off his favored black and silver blazer and tossing it to one of the fawning Light Fae magic-wielders in the crowd, who caught it and scented it happily. And then he shoved up the sleeves of his black shirt, adjusted his silver leather pants, then looked out at me and winked.

In the next moment, he and Marlowe called their magic at the same time, Orpheus’ palms glowing with his purple fire, and Marlowe’s with a light neon-green.

Marlowe went for it first, throwing a bolt.

Orpheus was ready, though, sidestepping it, then firing his own, two from either palm.

Marlowe twisted to the side to avoid them like Orpheus had, but then an underhanded move from the latter had one smashing into his throat.

Marlowe choked and staggered back.

He held up his hand, calling for a timeout.

Orpheus was having none of that.

He didn’t stop.

Thrusting his hands up to the ceiling, he conjured a purple storm cloud, then had it fire lightning directed at Marlowe.

Marlow threw a shield up at the last second before it hit, straining in his still stunned state to hold it at bay against Orpheus’ assault.

“Orpheus,” he rasped.

Again, there was no response.

Oh no.

He’d gone to that dark place.

That dangerous headspace.

He streamed his magic and the might of it blew right through the professor’s shield. A blast then hit him in the chest and it sent him spinning and then rolling across the floor, before he was able to stop on his back.

Orpheus was there then, levitating two broadswords, then sweeping his hands and sending them shooting toward Marlowe.

Marlowe threw out his hand at the last second, stopping them in their tracks and gritting his teeth as Orpheus pushed against the resistance.

With his free hand, Marlowe upturned one of the blades, then sent it hurtling toward Orpheus where it sliced at the underside of his chin.

Orpheus blinked, the sudden pain seeming to snap him out of it.

And then he called his magic back and took a staggering step back.

As the blades clattered to the floor, Marlowe got to his feet. He looked out at the stunned faces of all the students and ordered, “Leave us.”

They all rushed out without a single protest, clearly in a state of shock at what had just happened here.

Holy hell.

“Here. Now,” Marlowe commanded as soon as they were gone.

“You wanted to spar,” Orpheus said, unapologetically.

“You took it too far.”

“A matter of opinion. Besides, I thought you could take your lumps better than that.”

“You’re not him. You’re not your father.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

“Then what was that moments ago, why did you take it there?”

“Because, although I’m not him, I do have the potential to be. And that’s what the world needs to see, what it needs to respect and be wary of in equal measure.”

He looked out at me pointedly.

Dammit.

“It’s not a weakness to tone it down, Orpheus,” Professor Marlowe told him.

“But it is a lie.”

Again, he gave me a knowing look, an incredibly loaded look.

He thought I was still lying to myself, still hiding.

And as infuriating as it was when he was right in such an arrogant all-knowing way, I guess I actually was still partially in that state.

I’d come a long way, sure, but it wasn’t all the way.

It became clear in that moment that I hadn’t really been invited here just to observe.

Orpheus was calling me out and challenging me to step up.

To let go all the way.

For the first time in a long time, I actually wanted to.

As I found myself seriously considering it, it went hand-in-hand with hoping like hell that the consequences wouldn’t destroy us all.