“Field trip where?” Sin asked dubiously.
“Just around the property.”
“Sounds fun,” I jumped in. “Lead the way!”
Aaron laughed. “Okay, dweebs,” he called to the students. “Everyone pair up, and if I catch you more than three feet away from your buddy, there’ll be consequences. Let’s go.”
I fell into step beside Aaron, and the students walked in a double line behind us. Frowning, Sin watched everyone pass, then fell in at the back. She must’ve been sending me “bad idea” brain waves, because uncertainty crept through me as Aaron headed for the tree line.
“This is okay, right?” I clarified. “Going this far from the academy?”
“Of course. Well, I mean, my dad will be pissed I didn’t stick to the lesson plan”—he grinned—“but this is a better way to learn.”
“What about the animal attacks? Tobias changed the curfew and everything because of them.”
“I can handle an animal,” he said confidently, and I had to agree. I couldn’t imagine Aaron having any trouble with a wild dog. We walked onto a dirt path beneath tangled branches, the students chattering unconcernedly.
“How much teaching is in your … itinerary?” I asked.
“A few lessons and lectures,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “They rope me into it every year, hoping I’ll finally catch the teaching fever or something. Hasn’t worked yet.”
I could hear the annoyance in his tone. “If you don’t like it, why not refuse?”
“It’s difficult when I’m here. At home, I don’t have any trouble tossing plane tickets in the garbage or blowing off the interviews they arrange for me, but …” He sighed. “It’s harder to disappoint them face to face.”
I winced sympathetically. “Don’t they know you aren’t planning to change guilds?”
“Oh, they know. They just don’t care.” His jaw flexed. “I know they want what’s best for me, but what I want barely registers with them. I’m not meeting their expectations”—he said the word like it was a dirty slur—“and they won’t stop pushing until I cave.”
“You won’t cave, will you?” I asked, alarmed. “You wouldn’t leave the Crow and Hammer?”
“No.” His expression softened. “I’m not leaving you guys no matter what.”
I relaxed again. The Crow and Hammer without Aaron … I couldn’t imagine it.
He tipped his head back, watching the sky as we walked. “I wish I could have a proper visit with them, you know? Just spend time with them without interviews and appointments and luncheons with the MPD Public Affairs Director.”
My head snapped around. Was that a random example or was it a meeting on his itinerary this week? I should’ve looked more closely.
Maybe deciding he was complaining too much, he forced a laugh. “Parents, right? Always think they know best.”
“Mm,” I agreed noncommittally. The trees crowded in as we walked deeper into the woods.
“How far are we going, Aaron?” Sin called from the back.
“There’s a clearing up ahead. We’ll stop there for our lesson.”
A hundred feet deeper into the woods was a spacious gap. I joined Sin under the branches of a squat tree as Aaron waved the students over to him.
“Okay, gang.” He looked across their attentive faces. I didn’t know if it was Aaron’s personality or if the teens always behaved this well for their instructors, but no one made a peep while he was talking. “Divide into five teams—and here’s the important part: group the most powerful mages together. Go on now.”
The students exchanged confused looks, then began muttering. An argument broke out between five kids who all claimed to be the strongest, but Aaron merely stepped back, watching carefully.
“What’s he up to?” I muttered.
“This will make the weaker kids feel like crap,” Sin agreed. Uncomfortable, she glanced around, then did a double take at the tree behind us. “Whoa. Is this a wild almond tree? You don’t see those very often.”
I peered up at the scraggy tree, its dark bark scarred and lower branches snapped and dangling. “Looks in rough shape.”
“Wild almond is a rare alchemy ingredient.” She rose on her tiptoes to peer into the upper branches. “I can see a few fruits near the top, but it’s picked over. Damn.”
Bickering and grumbling, the class finished arranging themselves into five groups.
“Good,” Aaron praised. “The strongest team and the weakest team, step forward. The rest of you, back up.”
Eight young mages, including Lily, moved forward, and the other twelve students retreated to the edge of the clearing. Aaron withdrew a switchblade from his pocket and flipped it open with an elaborate twirl. A bonfire erupted two feet in front of him.
“Is that a switch?” Sin whispered to me.
“Yeah, not one he uses much, though,” I replied. “He thinks it’s funny. A switchblade switch.”
Aaron spun the blade across his palm and the flames leaped higher, warming the clearing and melting the thin dusting of snow. “Okay, teams. Your job is to put out the fire. You get one attack each—and no, you can’t attack me. Extinguish the flames. Strongest team, you first.”
A boy from Lily’s group stepped forward, eager to prove himself. His face scrunched with concentration, then he flung his hands out. A geyser of earth shot from beneath the flames, making the ground shake. Debris showered down, but the fire flickered merrily, undiminished.
Lily shoved past the boy. She raised one hand, then sliced it sideways. A massive gust of wind whipped through the trees, rustling branches. The flames bent under the gale, sparks flying, but when the wind had waned, the fire kept burning.
Scowling, she fell back. The other two boys were pyromages and attempted to diminish the flames with their own magic, but they were no match for Aaron’s power.
“Good try,” Aaron told them. “Go back with the others. Now it’s your turn,” he added to the four weakest mages. “One attack each.”
They hesitated, and I couldn’t blame them. The strong kids had already failed, and because of the way Aaron had split them up by power level, these four knew they had no chance.
A boy cleared his throat and asked, “Is that the only rule?”
“Yep.”
The kids put their heads together, whispering. After a minute, all four approached the bonfire.
“Now!” the boy called.
A foot-deep gap cracked open beneath the flames, swallowing Aaron’s fire. A gust of wind from the next boy whipped the snow off every surface and into the air, and with a wave of her hands, a girl turned it into a cold, wet mist. The water surged into the hole, filling it with murky liquid. The last boy swept both palms down, forcing the flames into the water.
Aaron’s fire sputtered desperately, then went out with a sizzle.
The “weak” mages—and the other three groups—cheered. The foursome of “strong” mages sulked silently.
“What did you learn?” Aaron asked his class.
“They cheated,” a boy in the strong group snapped. “They worked together.”