Chapter 7
Aric
I STAND JUST OUTSIDE THE narrow arched doorway leading to the stairwell that’ll take me up into the astronomy tower. Over the top of the doorway is an etching of a constellation. It looks so innocent, but I glare at it.
Of all the places in this castle, she had to pick my least favorite of them all.
I could’ve told her no, I think, still glaring at the constellation. I don’t know which one it is. After my one astronomy class, I decided the sky just isn’t for me. I much prefer my feet planted firmly on the ground.
Two second-years, their robes trimmed in yellow, step through the doorway and cast me glances and shy smiles.
I try to smile back, but it feels like my face is pulled too tight.
Hopefully it doesn’t look like a snarl. With my tusks jutting up from my bottom lip, I’ve learned how to be mindful of my expressions.
The girls turn pink and scurry off. Now I’m standing alone again.
Should I have told her no?
At the time, when she asked me to meet here, I almost asked her if we could meet somewhere else—preferably on ground level. But she said she likes it here, and she’s the one going out of her way to help me, so I don’t want to make this more difficult on her than it probably already will be.
Come on, Vandermere. Get your ass up there.
I take a deep breath and tighten my fingers around the strap of my bookbag, which hangs across my chest. Then I grit my teeth and force my boots to start up the stairs.
And every step is harder than the one before it.
I keep my gaze down, focused on the scuffed toes of my boots. If I just stare at them, I can pretend I’m not climbing higher into the sky with every step up this tower.
It’s fine, I tell myself. You’re fine.
I’m really trying to convince my brain that I’m not about to die, but it doesn’t like listening to me.
So instead, it makes my heart gallop in my chest, and my skin is getting hot.
At this rate, I’m going to be a sweaty puddle by the time I reach the top.
I’ll probably be sweatier than after runeball practice.
A witch and warlock are coming down the stairs, and I move aside, pressing myself to the cool stone to make room for them.
But my body is bigger than theirs, and we have an awkward moment of trying to squish around one another.
Why is this stairwell so small? Then they’re finally gone and I can sweat and freak out in peace.
Still leaning against the stone, I try to catch my breath. I don’t know how many steps I’ve already climbed, but I feel like they’re never-ending. And now my knees are starting to quake.
Great.
I turn, and still bracing myself on the stone wall, I sink down to sit on a stair and put my head down, trying desperately to slow my racing heart and ward off the dizziness that’s starting to creep in. At this rate, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it to the top of the tower.
My mind flashes with images of the astronomy tower: its big glass dome, the view from so high up in the clouds, the dizzying feeling of looking down from such a tall vantage point.
Just the memory of being up there makes me nauseous.
I drop my head between my knees and try to catch my breath.
I start counting backward from one hundred, desperately fighting to calm my fear response so I can make it to my first tutoring session.
But by the time I count down to one, I’m still shaking, so I start over again. Then again.
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here; all I know is a few students have passed by me, but I didn’t bother to look up at them.
She’s probably going to quit, I think. First session, and I can’t even make it there. Shit.
There’s a light tapping on the stairs from up the stairwell, someone descending toward me. I lean against the stone wall, trying to make room.
The footsteps stop beside me.
“A-Aric?”
Her soft voice makes me pick my head up from where I still had it hanging between my legs in an effort to fight off the dizziness.
“Poppy.” The word comes out breathless. I didn’t realize my lungs were squeezing so tight in my chest.
I expect her to look pissed off, like Maeve would. Well, Maeve is a special breed, so maybe not quite so pissed off, but still upset. But instead, Poppy’s brow is furrowed in concern.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I try to give her a smile. “Yeah. Just thought I’d take a break on my way to the top.” The laugh that slips from me isn’t nearly as convincing as I thought it’d be.
Poppy stares down at me, her lavender hair like spun sugar against her brown cheeks. Then she reaches into her bookbag and says, “Here. This’ll help.” She pulls something out and holds her hand toward me.
When I reach for her, she drops a little wrapped candy into my palm. My eyes find hers, and I arch a brow. Immediately, her cheeks flush pink.
“It’s a puckerbite. The sourness helps as a distraction from . . .” She seems nervous to say what she means, but I understand: from the overwhelming panic crashing over me right now.
I unwrap the little sour candy—it’s pink and purple and hard in my fingers—and pop it into my mouth. The moment it hits my tongue, all my senses fire. My mouth and eyes water, my ears make funny whooshing sounds, and all my focus goes to the sweet, sour taste coating my tongue.
After the worst of the sourness passes, I reach up to wipe the moisture it caused from my eyes. And I realize my hands aren’t shaking anymore.
“It . . . worked,” I say. Then I’m able to smile up at Poppy for real. “That’s crazy. How’d you know about that?”
“I have anxiety attacks sometimes. My mom taught me to use something sweet and sour as a distraction.” She shrugs one shoulder, and I realize that the bookbag she’s carrying looks big enough to topple her tiny frame.
Idiot, I think. Get your ass up and help her.
Now that I don’t feel like I’m dying, I’m able to push to my feet. Poppy tries to take a step back—is she afraid of me?—but the stairwell is narrow, and there’s nowhere for her to go.
“Let me take that,” I say, offering my hand and jutting my chin toward her bag.
She looks down at the bag, then up at me, her light purple eyes going wide. “Oh, no, that’s okay, I—”
“I insist. You helped me. Let me return the favor. Please?” I smile again, reaching to wrap my fingers around the strap of her bag. And when I ease it from her shoulder and onto mine, her cheeks flare pink again, but she doesn’t object.
“Th-thank you,” she says, averting her eyes and looking anywhere but at me.
Fuck, she’s cute.
“Um . . .” She reaches up to tuck a wispy strand of hair behind her ear. “Do you want to go somewhere else instead?”
My brows shoot up. “You’re still gonna tutor me?”
Finally, she meets my eyes, blinking. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
Because I was late. Because I couldn’t make it to the top of the tower. Because I assumed she thought I was flaking out on her.
I let out a relieved sigh, and now it’s my turn to shrug. “Never mind. Where do you wanna go?”
Poppy tips her head, and that same wisp of hair she previously tucked behind her ear slips free again. “How about the library?”
My fingers have the odd urge to reach out and tuck the strand back behind her ear. But I don’t, of course. That’d be awkward, and it’d probably scare her even more than I already seem to. So instead, I just nod and gesture for Poppy to lead the way, saying, “The library sounds great.”