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Mrs. B. was a great teacher for 10th grade English. Funny, engaging, personable—and a bit flirty. She was in her late-20s, just a couple years out of The University of Michigan, cute, nice body and flaming red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She knew the boys all lusted after her and she did nothing to discourage our interest. Students even gave her a nickname, “Bubbles.” The administration was not pleased, but Mrs. B. didn’t seem to mind. She liked the attention. Oh, and I think that we actually learned a lot of English Lit between the horsing around.

Sophia smiled and blushed. “It’s like a dream. We can finally live our lives true to each other, no longer having to hide, no longer kept apart by family or obligation. Every night, I get to fall asleep beside her in our warm bed, and every morning, I open my eyes, and she’s right there with me. We get to spend our days and nights together, talking, laughing, whispering. If not for you, I don’t think we ever could have been blessed with such a life, with such freedom and happiness. Thank you for everything.”

“The closest thing I’ve ever felt was…” She paused and looked at Noah. “It was like when we sparred at the academy, and you stepped into my sensory field while your magic was active. It was that same nauseous feeling, but a thousand times worse.”Noah wasn’t sure what to say.