Chapter 35
Lyra
ANOTHER FEW INCHES OF SNOW fell last night.
Autumn has been fighting a losing battle since Samhain, but as I look out the window in my mathematics classroom, watching fat snowflakes drift from the gray sky to blanket the frozen ground, I know that winter has officially claimed victory, and it’s here to stay.
While Professor Burke drones on and on about trigonometric functions and tables—I will literally never need this in the entirety of my life—I start to think about Cairn.
We’ve barely spoken since I found that letter, and I know it’s all my fault. He’s tried to mend things, has tried to reach out across the flames I’ve surrounded myself with, but I haven’t let him succeed. I’ve been too consumed with my own anger and hurt and feelings of betrayal.
Last night, I dreamed of watching the moonflowers in Cairn’s garden bloom, but when I turned my head to smile at him, he wasn’t there, and the hand that I thought had been holding his was empty and cold.
Despite the fire burning in the hearth in the corner of the classroom, I shiver. I don’t usually feel cold—my fire magic keeps me warm—but I’ve been chilled for days.
I’m still staring out the frosted window, wondering if I may see a glimpse of Cairn through the ice, when all the students around me burst into motion, closing their heavy math books, slinging their bookbags onto their shoulders, and chatting about anything but trigonometry as they flee from their desks.
I’m one of the last students to leave the room, still in a bit of a daze. My feet feel slow and heavy, weighed down right along with my heart.
“You smell that?” Juniper asks from my pocket. We’re not supposed to bring our spirit companions to class, so she keeps herself mostly concealed in the inside pocket of my robe, with just her nose poking out.
I sniff the air, and my stomach grumbles. “Potato soup,” I say wistfully.
“And fresh bread,” Juniper adds.
Mathematics was my last class today, so I’m going to hurry back to the dorm, then meet up with the girls so we can go stuff our faces together in the dining hall.
The other students have already abandoned this hallway, leaving it empty and quiet. I’m just about to go around a corner when I hear voices up ahead.
“The Wilder girl’s been awfully cozy with the minotaur lately, from what I hear. Someone saw them going back to his place on Samhain.”
My pace slows, boots falling silent on the stone floor.
The voice is female, but it’s not young enough to be a student—a professor, then.
She continues, “What exactly is she doing for community service?”
There’s a chuckle from whoever the professor is talking to, and then an older male voice says, “If he’s caught, he’s toast. They’ll cut him loose before word even has a chance to get out. You know Moonhart hates scandals.”
“You’d think he’d be more careful,” the woman says, her voice getting quieter, like they’re walking the other way from me down the hall. The last thing I hear her say is, “Just a matter of time.”
In my robe pocket, Juniper goes very still. My fingers curl into fists, and I have to actively fight down the heat and fear rising inside me.
They know.
Someone saw us on Samhain. I was certain it wouldn’t be a problem—I was helping him with the booth, and then the storm hit. Of course we had to go somewhere to wait it out. And I’d assumed—stupidly—that everyone was too drunk on honeyed mead to pay any attention to what Cairn and I were doing.
But like so many times before, I was wrong.
My stomach drops. Suddenly, potato soup doesn’t sound very appetizing. Nothing sounds very appetizing.
This could ruin him, I think. I could ruin him.
That’s not what I want—it’s never been what I want.
Even though I’m angry with him, with myself, with the mother who abandoned me, I don’t want him to suffer because of me, don’t want him to be cast out, labeled as something he’s not.
I’m not sure I’d be able to forgive myself if that happened to him.
“Are you okay?” Juniper asks softly, pulling me back to the present, where I’m still standing frozen in a narrow hallway in the mathematics corridor, my bag weighing heavily on my shoulder.
“I . . . I . . .” My hands itch with heat. Fire wants to spew from my fingertips, but I hold it in. “I don’t know what to do. If they’ve found out . . .” I bite my lip. “Have I ruined everything?”
“Of course not.” There’s a bit of movement, a tugging on my robe, and then Juniper climbs up to perch herself on my shoulder, hidden beneath my curls.
Her fur is soft against my skin. “Nothing’s ruined.
But he needs to know.” She puts her paw on my neck; she’s warm from being tucked inside my pocket. “You’ll figure it out together.”
I give a small nod of my head. “Okay. Yeah.” I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “But I have to tell him soon. Tonight. I can’t wait until Saturday.”
Part of me is relieved at having an excuse to go see him, a reason to set my hurt aside for long enough to look into his eyes, to hear his voice, to breathe in his woodsmoke scent. But the other part of me wonders if it even matters anymore, if there’s anything to warn him about.
Because I might have already burned down everything that once blossomed between us. And it might be too late to heal the damage I’ve caused.
“BE CAREFUL,” POPPY TELLS ME as I pull on my thick winter cloak. “If there’re already whispers going around, you can’t afford to be spotted.”
“By anyone,” Maeve adds. She’s draped on the couch, watching me from over the cushions. Poppy is sipping tea while Alina paces in front of the fire in the hearth.
Suddenly, Alina stops. “I have an idea.”
I arch a brow at her while reaching for one of my boots. “What’s that?”
She whirls to face me. “Take Raelan with you.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
Alina tips her head at me. “Because he’s a shifter. He’s got impeccable hearing, and he’ll be able to get you to Cairn’s place without anyone seeing you.”
“Can he bring her back?” Poppy asks. “Don’t forget, you still have to get back in without being spotted.” She taps her fingernails against her teacup. “Goddess, I don’t know about this, Lyra. What if you’re seen?”
Pulling my boot on with a huff, I reach for my other one. They’ve all got a point. And it might be annoying having to sneak around with Raelan, but if it means protecting Cairn from more faculty gossip, then I’ve got to at least try.
“All right.” I yank my other boot on, then pull up my hood. “Get your dragon,” I tell Alina. “It’s time to go.”
AND THAT’S HOW I FIND myself shuffling quietly through the empty halls of the academy, Raelan one stride ahead of me. Despite his size, he’s able to move silently, and he’s already saved me twice from being spotted by a professor walking through the halls.
I admit to myself, begrudgingly, that this was a great idea on Alina’s part, and Raelan is actually really helpful.
We’re coming up at a hallway junction, and Raelan pauses, holding an arm out to stop me.
He’s carrying a bundle of fabric in his other arm, though I’m not sure what it is.
He tips his head, listening, then ushers me back into the shadows between a broad-leafed potted plant and a tapestry depicting the academy’s moon-phases crest. His body puts off heat as he stands near me, and I wonder if it’s the dragon inside him, keeping him warm.
My fire magic is not so different, though lately, it’s been erratic again, not listening to me and behaving badly, like a child who’s had too much candy and refuses to be put to bed.
In the hallway, I finally hear boots on stone; Raelan’s hearing really is amazing. I wonder how far away they were when he first picked up on the sound of their footsteps.
Whoever it is, they don’t bother to pause or investigate our hallway; they just walk right by, humming a little as they go.
Once they’re gone, I let out a breath. “Okay, dragon, let’s get on with it. I don’t have all night.”
When Raelan glances down at me, there’s a bit of gold glowing in his eyes.
His dragon again?
“You’re welcome to go on without me,” he says, sweeping his arm out in a mocking gesture.
I roll my eyes and cross my arms beneath my heavy cloak. “No. You’re actually kind of helpful.”
“Kind of?” Raelan asks as he resumes our brisk walk through the castle. He doesn’t even stop to look either way down the halls before we cross through them, I assume because his hearing—and maybe his smell?—is so strong that he already knows no one is there.
Candles burn in sconces along the walls, making our shadows dance as we make our way slowly toward the castle’s garden exit.
Before leaving the north tower, we decided that going through the main entrance into Coven Crest would be too risky; so, instead, we’re opting for the doors that lead into the garden.
When we get there, the hall is quiet, and Raelan has to slowly unlock the heavy door before pushing it open. Immediately, a burst of cold air sweeps in, making my cloak flutter around my calves. We step out into the night, our boots crackling the crust of frozen snow.
The moon is mostly obscured by clouds, which makes it easier to move across the garden undetected.
Raelan still has us move cautiously around the outskirts of the courtyard, then under the barbican, which has another locked gate he has to open from the inside.
Once I’m finally on the outside of the castle walls, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I’m so close now.
Raelan knows which direction to go to Cairn’s hut, and I glance up at him and arch a brow as we walk. “You know where he lives?” I ask.
A small sideways smile pulls on Raelan’s mouth. “I was here last year. Ended up . . . borrowing some clothes.” He holds up the bundle of fabric, as if that explains everything.
I narrow my eyes. “What?”
But Raelan doesn’t answer, just presses ahead through the snowy field.
When we arrive at Cairn’s hut, the windows are glowing softly, candlelight illuminating the curtains drawn over the glass. I step up to the door, then hesitate, glancing at Raelan.
“Do you . . . ?” I point toward the closed door.
He shakes his head. “No. I’ll wait out here. But will you give these to him?” He hands me the bundle of fabric, then slips his hands into his pockets and leans against the side of the thatched hut. “The cold doesn’t bother me much. And I’ll keep an eye out, just in case.”
I stare at him for a moment. He stares back.
“What?” he asks, voice edged in suspicion.
I let out a breath, and the cloud of steam floats between us. “Thank you,” I finally bring myself to say. “For . . . helping me.”
Raelan’s shoulders soften a bit, and he gives me a small smile, then tips his head toward the hut. “Go on, then.”
I grip the fabric Raelan handed me, squeezing my fingers around the soft bundle. Then I turn to Cairn’s door and knock firmly—before I can lose my nerve.
On the other side, I hear hooves clop across the floor, slow and heavy. I take a breath.
The door opens, bathing me in firelight, and my minotaur looks down at me.