Her Hidden Half (War Songs of the Courts #1)

Chapter Fifteen

I sat back and nervously tapped on the table while staring at Mr. Woodward​, contemplating. I had spent the first half of class distracting myself with the book of hell and spent another good fifteen minutes watching him, wondering how to even approach him about the whole me possibly dying thing. I took a deep breath in, gathering my courage, and stood up with a purpose, dragging my chair noisily to the front of his desk. I sat down and waited for him to acknowledge my presence.

"Yes?" He asked in a monotone voice, not bothering to put his book down.

I cleared my throat, trying to cover my nerves. "So, I was wondering..." I paused, unsure how I should continue.

He stilled slightly and slowly set his book down to watch me closely.

I swallowed and shifted in my seat before I tried again. "So, yeah, I was wondering. You know, about, like what it might mean if I'm hypothetically getting weird episodes of pain?" I asked, stumbling through the question in the most evasive, vague way possible.

He raised his eyebrow skeptically. "Hypothetically?"

I hesitated and shrugged. "Somewhat hypothetically?" I amended.

He stayed silent, watching me with blank eyes.

"Okay, not so hypothetical. Just tell me what the hell it means," the words flew from me in a rush and he didn't even blink.

"Well, it'd mean that your body was dying from the change it's going through. Your body hasn't been exposed to any kind of the magic that it's suddenly producing and it's slowly killing it," he explained evenly, sighing as he saw my expression become more lost as he spoke.

He looked up at the ceiling to gather his thoughts before he continued, "Think of it as a blood transfusion. Only the magic that's trying to infuse itself into your body is a completely different blood type than your own. The magic that's coursing through you is almost a poison to your essentially human body." His voice was soft but devoid of all emotion as he clarified this to me.

Definitely not the comforting type.

"So how do I get it to stop?" I somehow managed to keep my voice free of the panic tightened around my lungs uncomfortably, sitting on the edge of my chair as desperation clawed at me.

"Unfortunately, we haven't found a way to stop the change or a way for anyone to survive the change. We have, however, found a way to slow the process," he told me, holding my eyes as he spoke.

"I'm dying and you've decided to give me a fucking history lesson when I could literally be learning something that could give me more time?" My voice filled with disbelief and outrage. "What kind of bullshit is this?"

He shook his head slightly, unaffected by my outburst. "We've learned that forcing your kind into acceptance before you're ready can be very dangerous. It does far more damage than it does good. Your emotions are tied to the magic that courses through you so it's best if you come to terms on your own time. We couldn't shove you into acceptance; we had to wait for you to do that for yourself before we could teach you anything," he said, leaning back slightly to let me absorb the information.

"So, you're not a history teacher then?" I asked in a voice that was just above a whisper.

"I am not." He gave a nod in confirmation.

"So, I never actually had to read that book?" My voice went cold and my eye may have twitched.

Mr. Woodward sat up at my tone and his mouth opened and closed before he responded. "Well, uh, no. Not necessarily."

I glared at him in silence long enough to make him feel visibly uncomfortable. "You're lucky I have better things to worry about right now."

He wheezed out a bark of a laugh and watched me like he was waiting for the punchline of the joke. There wasn't one, and I didn't particularly feel the need to pretend there was, so I stayed silent while I held my glare.

I really hated that goddamn book.

"Right." He cleared his throat again before continuing, "Well, our time is up so we'll have to get started tomorrow." He nodded while pretending to tidy his desk up.

"Mmmhmm," I grumbled as I stood up to leave.

* * *

I dragged in a ragged breath and came to a stop in front Kieran. I'd been running long enough to make my leg muscles start to tremble. I wanted to learn how to kick ass, not whatever this was supposed to teach me.

"Why am I still doing this? Can't you teach me something that'd actually be useful?" I set my hands on my hips as I tried to catch my breath.

"This is helpful. Running would be your best chance at survival if anyone tried to kill you," he said deadpan and I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, come on. Teach me how to kick some ass, big guy." I used my best puppy dog eyes and threw in some exaggerated eye flutters.

He looked at me with a painful expression and muttered, "Stop that and I will."

I immediately dropped the expression and grinned widely.

"So where do we start?" I rocked on the tips of my toes excitedly.

He walked towards me and stopped directly in front of me only to slam me on my back before I even realized what was happening. I blinked up at him in surprise as he stood over me with his arms crossed.

"When you can manage to stay on your feet for a respectable amount of time, we'll move on." He waited for me to object, but I'd never been one to give up that easily.

No, I was far too stubborn for that.

When I nodded, he gestured for me to get up and grunted, "Good. Again."

I pressed my lips together, smothering the response that would have inevitably caused trouble and removed myself from the floor. I was immediately slammed back down, ending up in the same position as soon as I got my footing. I sighed, already imagining the bruises I'd wake up with in the morning.

"Yeah, this should be a blast," I mumbled to myself as I stared at the ceiling.

"Again," Kieran barked, ignoring my comment.