Chapter 34
Aric
THE ENTIRE CLASSROOM SMELLS LIKE pumpkin, and before it becomes something delicious—like pie or soup or bread—pumpkin smells kind of gross.
I’m working on dicing our pumpkin into cubes while Poppy reads her notes on the kitchen spellwork we’re supposed to use today.
She reaches up to adjust her glasses, a habit I’ve noticed she does when she’s concentrating, and—
Crack.
One of the hinges clinks to the tile floor beside my boot, and suddenly, the left side of her glasses is hanging at an odd angle, drooping off her face like someone stumbling out of a tavern after having too much pumpkin ale.
“Oh no,” she says, her voice small and wobbly. She carefully takes her glasses off, holding them like they might shatter completely if she’s not gentle enough. A tiny sigh slips out of her. “Not again.”
“Again?” I put my chopping knife down and wipe my hands on a towel. “This has happened before?”
“They broke last year too,” she admits, squinting at me without her glasses.
Her lavender eyes look bigger somehow, more vulnerable.
“I kept meaning to get them fixed properly, but I just . . .” She trails off and shakes her head.
“Mama and I can’t afford new ones right now, and the repair shop in Wysteria charges so much just for a simple hinge. ”
Something in my chest tightens at the resignation in her voice, and before I can consider my words, I say, “Let me fix them.”
She blinks at me—well, in my general direction, since I’m pretty sure she can’t see my face clearly. “What?”
“Let me fix them. I can do basic metalwork—I took an elective on it last year. And hinges are easy.” I hold out my hand. “I’ll have them back to you by tomorrow. Do you have a backup pair you can wear until then?”
“Well, yes, but you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I wiggle my fingers. “Come on, Brains. Trust me.”
She hesitates, then carefully places the broken glasses in my palm.
Without them, she looks so different—like she did that morning when I woke beside her in bed in the inn.
Goddess, she was gorgeous, with her hair all a mess and her mouth slightly open.
Thinking about it gives me the sudden urge to kiss her, but I have a feeling Professor Sage wouldn’t like that much.
Besides, I can control myself, even if Poppy makes it difficult at times. Well, all the time.
“I can barely see without those,” Poppy says, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Everything’s just blurry shapes.”
“How blurry?” I wave my hand in front of her face.
She swats vaguely in my direction, missing by several inches. “Very blurry. You’re just a big green blob right now.”
I laugh, and she scowls, which only makes me laugh harder. The students at the cooking station next to ours glance over, but Poppy doesn’t realize it.
“Stop laughing at me,” she says, but she’s smiling despite herself.
“Sorry. You’re just cute.” I carefully tuck her glasses into my shirt pocket. “Come on, I’ll tell Professor Sage what happened and then walk you back to your dorm so you don’t run into any walls.”
“I’m not that blind,” she protests, but she takes my offered arm anyway.
Professor Sage lets us go, but she’s insistent that we hurry back so we can finish the pumpkin soup we were working on. I’m grateful to escape the room and breathe air that doesn’t smell like squash.
The walk back to the north tower is slow, with me warning Poppy about steps and doorways while she clings to my arm and tries not to trip. By the time we reach NT33, she’s laughing at herself.
“This is ridiculous,” she says, fumbling for her key to unlock the door. “I’m completely helpless.”
“Not helpless,” I say, easing the key from her hand and slipping it into the lock. “Just temporarily vision impaired.” I turn the knob and push the door open, and the familiar scent of sage drifts out.
Probably from Maeve’s morning meditation ritual. She’s been doing that for years, almost for as long as I’ve known her.
Poppy slips past me and into the room, then pauses, turning back to me where I’m still standing in the hallway. “Do you think you could help me find them?”
Of course. I’m such an idiot. How’s she supposed to find them when she can barely see?
“Yeah, sure.” I glance back down the spiral staircase, suddenly nervous that Raelan is going to show up and demand to know what the hell I’m doing in the girls’ dorm room.
And once I’m inside, with the door closed behind me, the feeling intensifies.
I’ve been in here before, but never like this. And never with Poppy. Alone.
“They should be in my nightstand,” Poppy says, already making her way toward the staircase. But as soon as she lifts a foot, she trips on the bottom step, and I lunge for her, barely catching her around the waist before she can fall. I tug her against my chest, holding her close.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” I say, a sudden burst of protectiveness flaring up inside me. With my arm still around her waist, I guide her into the sitting room, where I deposit her onto one of the couches. “I’ll get them for you. Which bed is yours?”
Maybe Poppy just realized that we’re alone in here, because her cheeks start to take on that pink color I love so much. “Um, the one with the purple bedspread.”
Purple. Like her hair and her eyes. It might be my new favorite color.
“Stay put,” I say.
She smiles, and then I turn and climb the stairs.
It feels weird being up here in the loft, and I hurriedly locate Poppy’s bed, trying not to imagine us in it together right now. The last thing I need is Maeve walking in on us. Inside Poppy’s nightstand, I find her backup pair of glasses, along with a collection of books and—
The crystal I bought her. The amethyst we picked up at the apothecary shop together.
It’s nestled up on a little square of fabric, as if it’s a precious gemstone and not the simple stone I plucked off the high shelf. She sleeps with it right beside her, within reach if she just pulls open her drawer.
I’m still staring at it when the door downstairs opens and someone says, “Pops, what are you doing here?”
As Poppy starts to explain, I grab her glasses, slide the drawer closed, and start back toward the stairs.
Down in the sitting room, I find Lyra starting a fire in the hearth, and Poppy is still seated on the couch, exactly where I left her.
“Found ’em,” I say, handing them to Poppy so she can put them on.
Lyra stands from beside the hearth, where flames are now happily crackling, and she gives me a sideways smile that reminds me way too much of the way Maeve smiles when she’s up to no good. Those two are probably capable of pulling off crimes together.
“Well, hello, Aric.” She tips her head, sending a cascade of red curls tumbling over her shoulder. “You weren’t thinking about doing anything untoward with our little Poppy here, were you?”
I’m not usually one to be at a loss for words, but I was literally thinking that just a minute ago, and for some reason, no clever comebacks spring into my brain. Lyra caught me, and I think she knows it.
Thankfully, Poppy says, “Ly, stop teasing him. He’s just helping with my glasses.”
Lyra and I both turn to look at her, and as she blinks up at me from behind her too-small glasses, I get the sudden urge to wrap my arms around her and never let go, like she’s a baby bird that needs protecting.
The fire witch, on the other hand, slaps a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
Poppy stands from the couch. “I know. It’s my old pair. They don’t fit me right. But they’ll do until . . .” She glances at me.
Until I fix her regular pair.
I reach up to double-check that Poppy’s broken glasses are tucked safely into my pocket. They are, right next to my heart. Which is beating way too fast right now, seeing how vulnerable Poppy looks.
I’m going to fix her glasses, and I’m determined to fix them right, so they never break on her again.
After everything she’s done for me, it’s the least I can do for her.
BACK IN MY DORM ROOM after dinner, I spread my metalsmithing tools out on my desk, along with my textbook, A Comprehensive Study of Runes and Symbolic Magic, and examine Poppy’s glasses under the candlelight.
The hinge snapped clean off on the left side, and the nosepiece is so loose that I understand now why her glasses are always sliding down her nose.
It’s actually impressive she managed to keep wearing them for as long as she did.
Felex glances over from his bed, where he’s draped against a stack of pillows, reading an old leather-bound book of poetry. He’s probably read that thing a thousand times since I met him freshman year. “What are you doing?”
“Poppy’s glasses broke.” I pick up my smallest file, which feels like a toothpick in my big fingers. “I told her I’d fix them.”
“How romantic,” Felex says, his tone completely flat, like it usually is. “Repairing spectacles. Truly the stuff of sonnets.”
I pause, file in hand, and shoot a look his way. “Are you making fun of me?” He’s a fan of dry humor, so it can sometimes be hard to tell.
“You think I would do that?” He’s focused on his poetry book again, turning one of the pages with a whisper of parchment. “I’m simply observing that performing mundane domestic tasks for one’s paramour is a time-honored tradition.”
I arch a brow. “What’s a paramour?”
Felex turns another page, making me wonder if he actually reads the poems or just skims them. “A secret lover. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?”
My ears heat, and my fingers tighten around the file. “We’re not—I mean, we haven’t really . . .”
“Defined it?” Felex supplies, finally glancing at me with his unsettling dark eyes.
This is our fourth year as roommates, and every so often, he can still spook me.
Vampires are like that. “How very modern of you. Though I suspect the rest of the academy has already drawn their own conclusions, given that you spent a weekend alone with her and returned looking insufferably pleased with yourself.”
“You’re the one who looks insufferably pleased,” I say, mimicking his tone. “And besides, that’s none of your business.”
“No,” he agrees, returning to his poetry. “But it is amusing to watch.” He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “Though you should probably have that conversation at some point.”
I turn back to the glasses, using the file to smooth out the broken metal.
He’s not wrong. We’ve been dancing around it for weeks now, but neither of us has actually said the words.
Maybe I should. She’s probably waiting for me to.
The thought makes me nervous and excited.
I work on the glasses for the next several hours, carefully filing down the broken metal before creating a new pin to hold it together. It’s delicate work—the frames are thin and fragile, and in orc hands, that’s a recipe for disaster—but I’m patient.
When the hinge is repaired and moving smoothly and the nosepiece has been tightened, I sit back and study my work. The fix is solid, but it’s still just a patch job. The frames are old, and they’ll probably break again eventually.
Which is where the runes come in.
I pull out a fresh piece of parchment and sketch a reinforcement rune map—something that will strengthen the metal so it lasts longer. It takes me three tries to get it right, but finally, I think have it.
I set the glasses in the center of the rune map, then channel my intention and magic into it, activating the enchantment.
The metal gleams faintly, then dims. I test the hinge again—open, close, open, close. It moves perfectly, and I can feel the magic reinforcing it, making it stronger than it was even when new.
Runes are badass, I think with a smile.
Poppy won’t have to worry about this breaking again—not for years, at least. And since I tightened up the nosepiece, she shouldn’t struggle with them slipping down anymore.
By the time I finish, it’s well past midnight. Felex has extinguished his candles and is presumably asleep, though with vampires, it’s hard to tell. My neck aches from hunching over my desk for so long. But when I hold the glasses up to the candlelight, satisfaction pulls my lips into a smile.
They’re perfect. And I can’t wait to give them back to Poppy.