I expect my jacket to be ruined, but it looks the same as when I left this morning, a little worn but in one piece.

Xander claps. Claps.

I glare at him.

“What? That was better.”

“She couldn’t control it,” Aristelle hisses, dusting her palms across her jeans.

“But she didn’t burn.” Xander sounds hopeful.

I run my palms across my arms. They’re not even hot. “You thought I would burn?”

Aristelle smiles sweetly. “I believed in you.”

“I didn’t,” an annoying voice says behind me. “I knew last night was a fluke.”

I spin around. Ethan stands beside the hedges of the practice square. Of course he’d get placed right next to me.

“That’s what I’ve been telling everyone,” he continues. “I’m not sure they believed me, but they certainly do now.” He gives a single breathy laugh and then waves a hand, gesturing for me to look.

I make the mistake of doing it. He’s not the only one who’s stopped their own training to watch mine. I did put on quite the show last night, but each time I meet someone’s eyes they glance away. They’re embarrassed for me.

Ethan smirks as he pulls the gun from his holster. It takes everything in me not to step away from him, but he aims it over his shoulder and pops off three quick shots. Three lemons explode on the tree in the center of his courtyard, and a burst of citrus floods the air.

“And that’s how it’s done.” He gives me an obnoxious wink that belongs in a bad western movie.

“Has anyone told you that you’re a tad bit annoying?” Xander says. He stands close enough for our arms to touch, and it feels good to have someone beside me when staring down a bully.

Ethan shrugs.

“I’m guessing your parents,” Xander adds.

Ethan’s face darkens. I don’t want to feel sympathy for a guy who almost shot Willow in the head, but I hate the way he looks down for a moment before he meets Xander’s stare.

They hold each other’s glares like they’re about to duel until Xander yells, “Natasha!”

I didn’t even notice the two magicians sitting on the benches on the far side of Ethan’s training ground, but now they share a look before rising and walking toward us. The girl is petite, with a pink pixie cut. Her face is all sharp angles except for her rosebud lips. They cut up into a smile as she reaches us. The guy with her has a matching pink haircut, but he’s four times her size. They have the same lips though, and I wonder if they’re siblings.

“Problem?” Natasha asks.

“Please collect your dog,” Xander says. “All his barking is getting on my nerves.”