Twelve
I wrap the bangle in a T-shirt and put it inside one of my painted tote bags before heading to the Guild. “Back for some extra training?” the guard asks as he scans my pendant.
“No, I just left my homework in my locker,” I tell him with a smile and an eye-roll.
The moment I step through the doorway into the foyer, I remember the extra layer of magic that exists there. My smile slips. I freeze for a moment, expecting an alarm to go off as the protective charms detect the bangle. But nothing happens. Relieved, I keep walking. I guess the bangle’s magic isn’t seen as a threat. Or perhaps, I think to myself as I head for the staircase, it’s an unknown kind of magic, like the magic that allows me to create illusions. The protective doorway has never seen me as a threat—even though it
