The Villainess Wants To Retire Chapter 136: Magic lessons

ERIS

I tried to leave his lap.

First attempt was subtle. Just shifting my weight like I was getting comfortable, testing whether he’d notice if I slowly extracted myself.

His arms tightened imdiately.

"Stay."

One word. Firm. Not a request.

I tried again five minutes later. Different approach. Stretching like my muscles were stiff, using the movent as excuse to create distance.

He pulled back before I’d moved an inch.

"Stay," he repeated.

Third attempt was more direct. Just pushing against his chest, trying to stand up properly.

He didn’t let go. Just adjusted his grip and looked at with that insufferable expression that said he knew exactly what I was doing and found it entertaining.

"I need to—"

"No, you don’t."

"You don’t know what I was going to say."

"Doesn’t matter. The answer is still no."

I glared at him.

He smiled back. Completely unrepentant.

I gave up.

Let myself settle back against him because apparently resistance was futile and he’d just keep pulling back anyway. Stubborn bastard.

"Good girl," he murmured.

I elbowed him in the ribs.

Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to make my displeasure known. He laughed like I’d told a joke instead of expressing genuine irritation.

We sat like that for a while. His arms around . My back against his chest. Neither of us speaking but the silence comfortable now instead of tense.

Then he shifted slightly.

"We should try sothing," he said.

I twisted to look at him. Suspicious. "Try what?"

"Teaching you ice magic."

I stared at him.

"I have fire magic," I pointed out. "Fire and ice are opposites. They don’t mix."

"Technically you don’t have *any* magic right now," he countered. "The river sealed it, rember? Which ans your core is empty. Neutral. Perfect ti to see if you can channel sothing else."

"That’s not how magic works."

"How do you know?" His tone went playful. "Have you tried?"

I hadn’t.

Obviously. Because the idea was ridiculous. You couldn’t just switch elents like changing clothes. Magic was inherited, tied to bloodline, determined by which dragon had blessed your ancestors centuries ago.

But his expression suggested he was serious about this.

Or serious about finding ways to keep distracted. Hard to tell with Soren.

"Fine," I said. "But when this fails spectacularly, I’m going to remind you it was your idea."

He grinned. "Deal."

Shifted our position so we were facing each other properly. Took both my hands in his, holding them between us.

"Feel the cold," he instructed. "Let it flow through you. Don’t force it. Just... invite it in."

I closed my eyes.

Concentrated. Tried to feel sothing besides the usual heat that lived in my veins, the constant warmth that had defined my entire existence until a few days ago.

Nothing happened.

"You’re thinking too hard," Soren said.

"You told to concentrate."

"There’s a difference between concentrating and overthinking." His thumbs brushed across my knuckles. Distracting. "Magic isn’t about forcing. It’s about allowing."

I tried again.

Focused on the cold around us. The cave’s temperature. The frost beneath us. The winter that lived in Soren’s blood and made him what he was.

Still nothing.

"Imagine ice forming," he continued. "In your palms. Small at first. Just frost. Just—"

"This would be easier," I interrupted, eyes still closed, "if you stopped talking."

"Would it?" His voice had gone lower. That tone he used when he was being deliberately provocative. "Are you sure I’m not helping?"

"Very sure."

"What if I did this?" His hands moved. Sliding up my wrists. My forearms. Slow. Deliberate.

My eyes snapped open.

"You’re distracting on purpose."

He smiled. Completely shaless. "Am I?"

"Yes."

"Prove it."

I tried to summon cold again. Focused hard. Imagined ice and frost and winter and everything associated with his elent instead of mine.

His hands kept moving. Up my arms. Across my shoulders. Down my spine. Touching everywhere with enough pressure to make concentration impossible.

"Soren."

"Eris."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" His fingers traced patterns on my back. "I’m helping. This is what helping looks like."

"This is what sabotage looks like."

He laughed. Pulled closer. "Try again. I’ll be good."

He wasn’t good.

Kept touching while I tried to focus. Kept whispering encouragent that sounded suspiciously like flirting. Kept making it impossible to think about magic when all my attention was on his hands and his voice and the way his breath hit my neck.

The result was predictable.

Nothing happened. No ice. No frost. Not even a temperature drop. Just sitting in his lap getting increasingly frustrated while he enjoyed every second of my failure.

"This is pointless," I said finally.

"Probably." He didn’t sound disappointed. "But it was worth trying."

"Was it? Or did you just want an excuse to touch ?"

"Can’t it be both?"

I was about to respond when he did sothing unexpected.

Interlaced our fingers. Left hand to left hand. Right to right. Holding them between us with our palms pressed together.

"What are you—"

"Helping," he said. "For real this ti. Maybe if I channel through you, your core will recognize the pattern. Learn how ice feels. Rember it for later."

It sounded plausible.

Also sounded like complete nonsense he was making up on the spot.

But I let him try anyway because arguing seed like more effort than just going along with whatever sche he was running.

He closed his eyes.

Concentrated. I felt it imdiately when his magic activated. Sudden cold spreading from his palms into mine. Not uncomfortable. Just present. Noticeable. Ice magic flowing through the contact points where our skin touched.

Sothing ford between our hands.

Small. Delicate. Crystalline.

Ice.

Perfect little formations growing between our pressed palms. Beautiful. Intricate. The kind of thing that took skill and control and years of practice to create.

"See?" he said. "You’re doing it."

"You’re doing it."

"We’re doing it together."

"That’s cheating."

"That’s teamwork."

I watched the ice grow. Spreading between our fingers. Creating patterns that looked almost deliberate, almost artistic, almost like the magic itself had opinions about aesthetics.

Then I noticed sothing.

The ice was forming more on his side than mine. Following his magic instead of flowing through both of us equally. Creating exactly the shapes he wanted instead of anything I was influencing.

He was just showing off.

Using this as excuse to demonstrate his control. Making pretty ice sculptures while pretending I was participating.

"You’re a liar," I said.

"What?" He tried for innocent. Failed spectacularly. "I’m helping."

"You’re tricking . That’s all your magic. I’m not doing anything."

"You’re providing moral support."

"Moral support is not the sa as channeling magic."

"Close enough."

I pulled my hands away.

The ice shattered imdiately. Fell between us in tiny fragnts that lted before hitting the furs.

"Your turn," I said.

He raised an eyebrow. "My turn to what?"

"Entertain with your powers. Since apparently that’s what we’re doing now."

His smile widened. "You want to perform for you?"

"Yes. Do sothing impressive."

"How impressive?"

"Surprise ."

He held up one hand.

Frost gathered in his palm. Forming quickly. Shaping itself into sothing I couldn’t quite identify until it solidified completely.

A flower.

Made entirely of ice. Perfect petals. Delicate stem. Even tiny thorns along the sides that looked sharp enough to draw blood if you weren’t careful.

He offered it to .

"For you, Your Majesty."

I took it. Examined it properly. The detail was remarkable. Every curve intentional. Every edge precise. The kind of thing that required not just power but artistry.

"It’s pretty," I admitted.

"Just pretty?"

"Fine. It’s beautiful. Happy?"

"Very."

I set it aside carefully. "Do sothing else."