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“Lara. This is unexpected.” His usual y smooth voice was roughened with sleep.
She averted her gaze, uncomfortable with this unfamiliar, intimate view of the headmaster. She real y should have cal ed first. “Yeah. Um, sorry. I need your help.”
“What is it? What can I do for you?”
“Me?” Surprise made her squeak. “Nothing. I . . . It’s Justin.”
Simon went very stil . “Justin.”
“Out back. Please. Hurry.”
“Lara . . .”
“He must have . . .”
“Walked out. I found him trying to get into your storm cel ar.”
Did she imagine it, or did some of the tension leave Simon’s shoulders? “And you came to tel me.”
She nodded.
“Very good.”
His approval made her flush.
“He is there now?” Simon asked, already moving, gliding down the steps, silent as the air.
She hurried after him. “Yes, he can’t walk, he can barely talk
. . .”
“He spoke to you?”
The sudden sharpness of his tone made her blink. “Wel , not real y. The heth . . . And his head . . .”
Simon rounded the corner of the house and stopped.
Lara watched him take in the scene with one glance, the gaping cel ar door, Justin’s body on the stairs. His eyes were stil closed, his chest moving. Thank God. The residue of magic drifted over the ground like the smel of gunpowder on the Fourth of July.
Lara rubbed her arms, feeling the charge like static against her skin.
F o r g o t t e n s e a 61
“You may go,” Simon said. “I wil deal with this.”
At the sound of his voice, Justin turned his head. His gaze slipped past Simon and stabbed her, his eyes dark with accusation.
For no reason at al , she began to tremble.
“It’s al right,” she said quickly. “Everything’s going to be al right now.”
“Stay there,” Simon ordered. “He may be dangerous.”
“He’s not, he . . .”
Simon stooped, his back to her. She felt a change like a drop in temperature or a shift in the atmosphere, and Justin slumped.
Simon cradled his head before it hit the ground.
Her heart rol ed over in her chest. “What did you do?”
she whispered.
Simon glanced over his shoulder, brows raised.
Oh, right, like she wouldn’t recognize his magic whammy.
But maybe she wouldn’t have a day ago. Or even an hour ago. Maybe the spel she had worked on Justin had made her more sensitive. Or maybe it was his kiss . . .
“I relieved his pain,” Simon said.
“You knocked him out.”
Simon shrugged. “He wil be easier to move this way.”
He was the headmaster. She trusted him. She did.
She watched as he brought his cupped hands to his mouth and blew softly. Mage fire kindled in his palms, a globe of silver light, cool and unconsuming. He released it to float above his head, tethering the light with a word.
Simple magic. She could do it herself, most of the time.
But Simon Axton had other magic, other powers, painstakingly accumulated or recal ed over the years of his very long life.
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He raised his arms in command and Justin’s body levitated, hovering over the cel ar threshold.
In silence, Simon waded into the shadow of the stairwel , nudging Justin ahead of him like a man on a raft.
