Witching Games: The Fire Witch Chronicles 1 by R.A. Lindo (best sales books of all time .txt) 📕

With the bet decided and the noise reverberating from Rebel’s Rest, Conrad ends his spontaneous musical rendition, returning to my side.

“You never do that for me,” I tease, taking his hand as we head towards the entrance, looking forward to an evening of remedy and revelry.

“I’ve been waiting for the right moment,” he says with that smile.

“Maybe you can do it again later.”

“I’ll see how the throat feels,” he adds, putting his arm around my waist: the boy with more secret talents than I know what to do with.

“So, should I drop the ‘duel’ thing in before or after my songs?” Noah asks, rubbing his hands in preparation.

I want to say ‘before’ because he can’t sing to save his life, but as he’s lost the bet I go easy on him, eventually suggesting, “afterwards”.

“Work your magic first,” Lucy suggests, finding the whole obsession with Zoe Tallis ridiculous. “Then by the time you get to the duel, she’ll be eating out of your hand.”

“Or begging for mercy,” Conrad adds, darting through the door before Noah can grab him.

A roar goes up as we enter, mainly from the group of friends we’ve formed here: not Night Rangers but faculty-based members who think sleep is a waste of time.

“The Singing Magician!” Jalem shouts from the back of the strangely named ‘rest rooms’.

The group pounce on Noah, ruffling his floppy dark hair out of affection. They’re pure fun with no hidden agenda, keen to hear of our exploits throughout The Society Sphere, but equally keen to have a good time: an ideal reminder to enjoy the universe of wonders we somehow found our way into.

“What’s the song?” Harvey asks, handing us glasses of Liqin — a remedy designed to remove hallucinations but also effective at relaxing the mind: non-alcoholic of course.

“I’m not sure,” Noah says, following Jalem’s lead, downing the first glass of Liqin. “Conrad’s just done a version of Singing in the Rain.”

The jovial group pause in puzzlement, turning their attention to Conrad who’s easing away into the corner.

“No way,” says Ilina. “Conrad sings?”

“Like an angel,” Noah offers grudgingly.

“Duet!” comes the expected cry: a request Conrad’s ready for, knowing the pain of performance will get him his duel with The Domitus.

“One song,” he says, looking on edge, “then I’ve kept my side of the bargain.”

“What bargain?” Jalem asks, a friend most easily described as all bones and angles.

“A duet for a duel,” I say.

“A duel? With who?”

“The Domitus.”

And with that, the rest rooms fall silent.

12

Duets & Duels

Ilina breaks the silence as concerned gazes rest on us, mainly from Society elders who’ve got a habit of shaking their heads when young wizards are mentioned. There’s not a lot of head shaking at the moment — more expressions of annoyance at the rumour of a duel amongst comrades.

“Who’s authorised a duel?” Ilina questions, maintaining her Gothic look complete with flowers in her hair.

I wonder if she thinks she’s in a film, surrounded by a group of adoring men who do everything to protect her. Not that she’s a damsel in distress or anything; she just gives off that vibe. Ilina can hold her own in any crowd, her sharp wit putting many of her peers in their place. She’s wise, too, meaning the look on her face suggests she thinks the duel is a bad idea.

“No one’s authorised it,” Conrad replies, sipping the Liqin in the knowledge the rumours are going to spread, meaning our Scribberals will be rattling when we return to The Cendryll.

Scribberals are the communication device used in the Society. It’s a silver box with a small handle. You write your message and place it into the box. Once the lid is closed, you swipe the handle the side and whoosh — the message vanishes, appearing in the Scribberal belonging to the person you’re writing to seconds later.

“No one will authorise it,” Jalem adds, stooping to avoid the lampshade above his head. “It’s the sort of thing that starts rivalries, and we all know where they lead.”

“Relax, Jalem,” Conrad states as he gulps down the Liqin. “It’s just a bit of competition: one sky rider to another.”

“I doubt The Orium Circle will see it that way,” Harvey adds, the opposite of Jalem with trousers that burst at the waist.

Noah might have a pot belly but Harvey has an overall roundness: ‘genetics’ he likes to say. “No one’s going to allow you to duel with the Riadek. They rip through flesh.”

“Not the tame ones,” I add, taking Harvey’s glass as a prompt to drink faster. “Anyway, I think we should check out how tame they are first with a little trip to Drandok. If all looks well, we’ll see if Odin and Neve want what they seem to be looking for: a way of finding out who masters the skies.”

“Conrad, obviously,” adds Ilina, adjusting the flowers in her hair. Unlike a lot of the girls my age, she isn’t flirtatious around Conrad which isn’t to say she doesn’t like him. There’s liking and having, though.

“Maybe I am and maybe I’m not,” Conrad comments in reference to him being the best sky rider, “but it’ll be a good test. It’s also a way to stay sharp, something The Orium Circle need to consider. It’s all well and good not wanting any sort of intense competition, but if we’re not careful we’ll have lost our edge if and when another enemy raises its head.”

“Good point,” Jalem acknowledges, “but there are much easier ways of staying sharp, Conrad, like what Jacob’s doing with his class. Rucklz on a grand scale ... all the competition you need.”

“It’s just a thought,” Noah concludes, wanting to climb on top of the bar and let loose. “For all we know, Odin and Neve were just being their weird selves, doing the whole silent treatment thing.”

“They were there for a reason,” I declare, urging Noah onto the bar as Zoe Tallis makes an appearance, turning a lot of heads, “but that’s for another day. Let’s see