Way of The Wand
Chapter 23

The incessant knock on her door irritated her. Who knocked so loudly this early in the morning?

As Jira strode to answer it, she wondered who it was that would disturb her on a weekend.

Her breath hitched.

“Hi, I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Jira interrupted him. “Every witch knows who you are.”

She would recognize that face anywhere. Arron Tartian was on her porch.

By the Gods. He looked exactly the way he did in pictures. Slick black hair, milk complexion, and devilishly handsome.

Jira felt an urge to slam the door in his face and open it again. That way, if she was hallucinating, he would disappear.

What else could it be but a hallucination? Why would the heir to the Tartian empire, one of the richest and most influential witch families in Edoh, come to see her?

In his late twenties, Elron Tartian, Arron’s father, patented the crystal wand designs along with a partner who would later walk away from the Tartian empire. Over the following decades, the family accumulated a fortune from selling it to witches desperate to bridge the power gap between themselves and wizards.

Jira felt her pocket, touching the crystal wand lying out of sight. This was the man that made it possible for her to have that.

“I apologize for the inconvenience—”

Jira’s ears perked up at Arron’s voice. Low and husky, it seized her attention like panther seized a prey.

“— But I thought it was important to come here. The woman who accosted you at the arena after the task the other day, is my mother.”

Jira’s jaw clenched. She blinked away the words she just heard, drowning them in her disbelief.

The harsh words resonated in her head again upon the reveal they’d come from a powerful witch and not just any random one.

“Damn. I must have really messed up to upset the matriarch of the most powerful witch family in the kingdom.”

“My mother means well,” Arron put in quickly, “but her outburst was completely uncalled for. The rest of witches recognize and appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

Jira nodded, letting his words wash away the anguish she’d been feeling. “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you.”

Arron stepped away from the door, and it was only then Jira caught sight of the carriage he’d rode in on.

Gold spokes in the rim, luxurious body, and drawn by a pair of well-groomed horses, Arron’s choice of transport screamed wealthy.

The last time Jira saw a carriage was at the palace, the last time she rode in one, she was still using the Rakha surname.

Even if she tried to hide her admiration for the coach, Jira would fail, which made it even more shocking when Arron gestured to the carriage and suggested, “A ride?”

“I don’t know if—” Jira paused, noticing a cart with some workers on it behind the carriage. “Who are they?”

“Oh,” Arron said like he’d forgotten he’d brought the workers along, “they are here to erm…well as an apology for my mother’s outburst, I thought I could bring them to fix your house. The Tartians apologize with actions, not mere words.”

Jira crossed her arms and blocked the entrance with her body. “Fix my house? There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Arron raised his hands like a surrounding soldier. “And I agree, but even the finest mansions could always use an upgrade.”

“You want me to go on a ride with you while strangers come into my house and scatter things?”

“It’s not that kind of ride, I promise. I just want us to talk and offer my services. See how I can help you make sure your pupil does not lose in the final task. A loss of that magnitude at a dire time like this will reflect badly on all of us.”

Jira’s hands dropped to her waist. “Which is what your mother is worried about.”

“For good reason.” Arron motioned to the workers in the cart. “And as for them, they’re privately employed by the Tartian estate. I guarantee you have nothing to worry about.”

He leaned forward towards Jira. “So, about that ride?”

Jira’s head lit up with several thoughts. She hadn’t been able to reach Chidi since the night of the tournament, no matter how many times she called.

If she couldn’t count on his help any longer, maybe this could serve as a replacement.

Tomi would have to spar against a wizard, just like Timi did with Chidi, to prepare for the task of strength.

Arron was no wizard, but with his resources he could certainly pull some strings and organise training sessions against wizards for Tomi.

Not to mention, he probably had access to the latest, most powerful crystal wands, some of which hadn’t even been released into the market yet.

Jira could certainly use his help. Maybe Arron’s mother accosting her at the tournament was a blessing in disguise after all.

“Hang on,” she told Arron, “let me get my coat.”

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