The Forbidden Incantations (Le Paris Magic Académie Book 1) by Isabel Campbell & Michael Anderle

Author:Isabel Campbell & Michael Anderle [Campbell, Isabel & Anderle, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2023-05-29T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sam sat on a stone bench, facing the dark trees of the Ravenwood.

A drizzle of rain fell on the leaves and skittered down the stone exterior of the castle where Sam had her back pressed. The stone was cold. The rain was cold. Everything was cold.

Her cloak spread out around her, doing little to keep her dry from the rain. Sam did not notice or care. The sky overhead was gray and heavy. The last of the leaves fell to the ground, forming a damp bed of the dead. It was fitting, Sam thought, for everything to die only days after Lily passed. The first snow would come soon, dressing the barren branches once more in white glory.

The hope and excitement Sam had carried about the coming season had vanished the moment she felt Lily’s cold, lifeless body against her own.

Fifteen days.

That was how long it had been since that night.

Each day felt like a dagger in Sam’s chest, twisting so it went as deep as it could. The passage of time was slow, torturous, and the only thing Sam could think about. That and what had happened those few days after Lily died.

Sam heard a shifting but did not turn to see who might have come into the garden. Almost everyone was inside today since it was wet and cold outside—hardly the conditions for studying in the garden. The figure sat beside Sam, and it was then that she glanced sideways. Sam had not seen Professor Deathshroud since that day of All Saints’ Day Eve, when he said he would not be involved in any of the activities. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been around. Sam had not bothered going to any classes, and her professors, gracious toward her in her grief, had not yet said anything about it. Was Professor Deathshroud here to rebuke her for missing classes?

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, Marcus drew in a heavy sigh and released it again. “I am sorry for your loss, my dear. Grief is a bitter thing to face, especially when one is so young.” Something about the tone of his voice told Sam he understood what she was feeling better than he expressed.

He laid a hand on her shoulder. “It is difficult to remember all that has happened, but you must understand how important remembering is, my dear. Lily will still need you yet.”

Sam looked at him with a blank expression on her face. “Lily is dead. She doesn’t need me. I need her.” The last three words came out strained and choked.

“Even the dead still have their needs,” Professor Deathshroud told her.

Sam did not want to be comforted. She did not remember Professor Deathshroud leaving her side, but he must have, because the next time she looked up, she was alone on the bench.

Sam stared off into the dark trees and remembered.

First, there had been just Sam in her room, too shocked by what had happened to move or cry or do anything but clutch at Lily’s body and rock back and forth.

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