Chapter 39
Aric
That last one has pretty much been on a constant replay for the past two weeks. Not that I’m complaining, even if it is a dangerous distraction.
And I remember the moment she said yes, that she agreed to be mine. It still makes me grin, even now.
But then reality hits, slapping me back to the present: Finals are only a few weeks away.
And since Samhain, since that night I held Poppy under the big oak in the Whim, every free moment has been swallowed by runeball practice, tutoring sessions, and hours of studying that leave my brain exhausted and feeling like mush.
The joy of that night feels distant, almost forbidden, replaced by a pressure I can’t afford to ignore.
I can’t get kicked off the team, and I have to graduate if I want that apprenticeship with Alden. I can’t fail.
In my room, I drop my bookbag beside my desk and collapse into the chair.
Every part of me hurts—my arms from throwing the arcane sphere and blasting it with magic, my legs from running never-ending drills, even my jaw from clenching through the frustration of missed passes and fumbled opportunities.
We don’t usually have practice on Tuesdays, but we’ve needed to practice more.
And Coach Grayward ran us harder than usual today, preparing us for our next game, one of only a few left this semester.
And maybe forever for me if I don’t pass all my classes.
Which is why I don’t have time to rest, even if all I want to do is to fall into bed, cuddle Poppy up in my arms, and sleep for a week.
I pull out my history textbook and flip to the chapter on the Dragon Wars, a time of upheaval when most of the dragon shifters were killed.
But not Raelan’s ancestors, I think as I squint at the tiny text. The dates and details blur together, dancing in front of my tired eyes.
“More studying?” Felex asks from his bed, where he’s reading that same old poetry collection. How he’s not sick of it yet, I have no idea. Maybe vampires have more patience than orcs—long lives and all.
“Finals are in four weeks,” I say, not looking up. “If I fail even one class, I can’t play runeball next semester. I might not graduate. I might even have to repeat a year.” My stomach pinches at the thought.
“Yes, yes, the dominoes of your potential doom.” He turns a page, the rustle of paper crisp in our small space. “But studying while exhausted is counterproductive.”
“I know. But I don’t have a choice.” I force myself to focus on the page, even as Felex makes a small sound that I know is disapproval.
When did the Dragon Wars begin? And why? I can’t remember, so I flip back a few pages, trying to find the timeline.
My eyes feel heavy. The words keep swimming. Maybe I’ll try that headache remedy the apothecary in Faunwood gave me. Not sure it helps with sleepiness though.
I yawn once, then again.
Just need to get through this chapter. Then I can sleep.
I read the same paragraph three times without absorbing a single word.
The Dragon Wars were a devastating period in history, spanning nearly two decades . . .
My head drops forward, jerking me awake. I blink hard and sit up straighter, rubbing my eyes. I take a sip of water from the mug on my desk, trying to wake myself up.
Focus. I can do this.
I try again.
The Dragon Wars were a devastating period in history . . .
The candle on my desk flickers, casting dancing shadows across the page. I watch them for a moment, mesmerized by the way they move. Like the prairie fish Poppy and I saw on our way to Faunwood.
Poppy.
I should tell her about the study schedule I made. She’ll probably have suggestions for making it more efficient. She’s good at that kind of thing. Maybe we could—
My head drops forward again, and this time, I let it fall.
I’ll close my eyes, but just for a few minutes. Then . . . back to . . . studying . . .
“ARIC.”
Someone is shaking my shoulder. I mumble something even I can’t make out and try to wave them away.
“You fell asleep at your desk. Again.”
I crack one eye open to find Felex standing over me, already wearing his crisp button-down with a crimson vest over the top—his everyday attire.
One of his pale brows is arched, and his lips are set in a concerned frown.
The candle on my desk has burned down to a stub, and my neck is screaming in protest from the angle I slept at.
“What time is it?” I croak, my voice rough.
“Almost eight. You’ve been here all night.”
I sit up slowly, wincing as my spine pops. When I reach up to scrub a hand over my face, I feel an imprint of the book’s binding on my cheek. Great.
“What day is it?” I ask, my brain still trying to wake up.
“Wednesday,” Felex says. He adjusts his sleeves and cuff links. Seriously, he’s the only student I know who wears them.
Then the word settles in, dousing me like a bucket of icy water.
“Wait . . . Wednesday?” I bolt upright, ignoring the lingering ache in every muscle in my body. “It can’t be Wednesday. Yesterday was Monday. Today should be—”
“Tuesday was yesterday,” Felex says calmly. “Which makes today Wednesday.”
“No, no, no, no.” My heart starts racing as the realization crashes over me.
Tuesday. I missed my tutoring session with Poppy.
“Fuck!” I scramble out of the chair so fast I knock it over.
“What’s the matter?” Felex asks. “You still have time to get to class.” He wrinkles his nose slightly. “But maybe take a bath first. You smell like jock.”
I ignore the dig. “I had a tutoring session with Poppy yesterday. I completely missed it.” I’m yanking open drawers now, looking for a clean shirt. Everything I own is dirty or wrinkled or both. I really need to do laundry. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Eloquent as always.”
“Felex, I’m serious! She’s probably—” I can’t even finish the sentence. She’s probably hurt. And angry. Dammit!
I find a shirt that’s relatively clean, pull it on without buttoning it, and head for the door.
“Aric,” Felex calls after me in that monotone voice he always uses.
“What?” I snap, whirling around.
He holds up a pair of boots. “Unless you’ve developed an affinity for going barefoot? Though Headmistress Moonhart may not like that.”
Right. Boots. I stumble back, shove my feet into them without bothering to lace them properly, and then bolt for the door.
“You’re welcome,” Felex says dryly to my retreating back. The door slams shut behind me.
I take the stairs as fast as I can without tumbling down them, my heart pounding in my chest. How could I forget? How could I just pass out and sleep through our session? Fuck, I’m an idiot. She must have waited for me. Does she think I just didn’t care enough to show up?
I have to find her. I have to explain.
When I reach the staircase to the north tower, I don’t even pause long enough to catch my breath.
My boots pound out a steady rhythm on the stone stairs as I climb.
The staircase seems to go on forever, spiraling up and up.
By the time I reach NT33, I’m breathing hard and my shirt is still unbuttoned.
Though I got a few odd looks on my way here, I don’t care.
I knock—three sharp raps that echo in the quiet hallway.
No answer.
I knock again, harder. “Poppy? It’s me. I’m sorry, I—”
“She’s not here,” a voice says from slightly farther up the stairwell.
I turn, and it’s Raelan, looking at me with his usual unreadable expression. His dark eyes flick down to my unbuttoned shirt and unlaced boots as he descends the stairs toward me.
“Do you know where she is? I need to talk to her. I missed our tutoring session yesterday and—”
“I know. She mentioned it.” His tone is neutral, but there’s something in his eyes that might be disapproval. Granted, he always kind of looks like that. Especially whenever I fuck up the footwork during our secret dance lessons. “She’s probably in the library.”
“Thanks.” I turn to go, then pause. “Is she . . . Is she really upset?”
Raelan is quiet for a moment, then lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “She didn’t say. But it’s Poppy.” One of his dark brows arches. “She’s sensitive.”
Yeah. That’s what I thought.
I run back down the stairs, stumble around students coming from the dining hall, and find my way into the library. The librarian looks up from her desk with a sharp “No running!” but I barely hear her.
I scan the reading areas, the study nooks, the rows of shelves. It’s been getting colder lately, so the fire is already lit, but she’s not sitting in any of the armchairs, cozied up to the flames.
Where is she?
Then I spot her—tucked into our usual corner, surrounded by books and parchment. Her head is bent over her notes, lavender hair falling forward to hide her face. A student I don’t know sits across from her, reading his own textbook.
I approach slowly, fumbling for the buttons on my shirt. The student across from Poppy glances up, and his eyes widen in surprise.
“Poppy?” I say softly.
She looks up at me, and the expression on her face makes my chest squeeze. Surprise, then relief, then hurt all flash across her features in quick succession before settling into careful neutrality.
“Aric.” She sets down her quill. “Hi.”
“I’m so sorry.” The words tumble out in a rush. “I fell asleep at my desk after practice, and I didn’t wake up until this morning, and I completely forgot about yesterday, and I know that’s not an excuse, but—”
“I’m gonna go,” the warlock says. He gathers up his books and notes, slips everything into a bag affixed to his wheelchair, and then backs away from the table. “See you later?”
“Yeah.” Poppy raises a hand to wave. “Bye, Beckett.”
I move out of the way so Beckett can roll by me, and the look he gives me is so sharp that I know Poppy must’ve mentioned something to him.
Fuck.
“It’s okay,” Poppy says quietly once Beckett is out of earshot, but the look on her face tells a different story.
“It’s not okay. I should have—” I run a hand through my loose hair, which I only now realize is hanging wildly around my face. “I’m a terrible boyfriend.”
“You’re not terrible.” She won’t quite meet my eyes. “You’re just stressed. Finals are coming up, and I know you’re worried about passing.”
I pull a chair up to the table where Beckett was and sink into it with a heavy sigh. “That doesn’t make it okay to blow you off.”
“You didn’t blow me off. You fell asleep.” She finally looks at me, and there’s a heaviness to her lavender eyes that isn’t usually there. “I went to your dorm, but no one answered. I figured something had come up, or—”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, feeling like the worst person in the world. I must’ve slept right through it, and who knows where Felex was. He often wanders at night.
I reach for her hand, and she lets me take it, but her fingers are stiff in mine. “I’m so, so sorry. How can I make it up to you? I’ll do anything.”
For the first time this morning, her lips pull into a very subtle smile. “Anything?”
It feels like she’s giving me a tiny window of opportunity, and I’m not going to let it slip by. So I squeeze her fingers gently and nod once. “Anything. Well, anything legal. Unless you’re a mastermind and can make sure I don’t get caught. Which . . . you might actually be.”
Her smile is getting bigger now. This is good.
“Are you free this Sunday?” she asks.
A bolt of dread goes through me. I was planning on spending my entire Sunday with my head crammed into a textbook, only coming up to eat and breathe, but . . .
Poppy tips her head a bit, a movement that used to send her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, but with the modifications I made to the nosepiece, they stay perfectly in place, and something about it makes some of the anxiety unwind from my chest.
She’s been spending time tutoring me all semester. I can skip one day of studying for her.
“Yeah,” I say, twining my fingers through hers. “I’m free. What’s the plan?”
Her smile tilts sideways, looking more comfortable with each moment that passes between us. “It’s a secret,” she says.
Now it’s my turn to smile. “A secret? Like”—I glance around covertly—“a sexy secret?”
This gets her to laugh, and she covers her mouth with her free hand, stifling the sound. “No. Not that kind of secret.”
I trace a heart onto her palm with my thumb. “All right, not sexy. Can you give me any hints?”
She thinks for a moment, then smiles. A big smile.
“It’ll probably be hairy.”
My smile twists in confusion, and Poppy laughs again—loud enough this time that the librarian pokes her head around the corner to shush us, which makes Poppy’s brown cheeks flare bright red.
“Stop making me laugh,” she whispers.
But I never want to stop making her laugh. I want to spend every day making her smile and laugh until tears—happy ones—stream from her eyes.
“Okay,” I say. “A nonsexy hairy surprise. Can’t say I’m too sure what that means, but you’ve piqued my curiosity, Brains.”
“Good,” she says.
Far off, the castle’s clock chimes, reverberating through the corridors, signaling that it’s time for me to get dressed properly so I can actually get to class. Guess I’ll be skipping breakfast today.
Poppy starts putting away her books and parchment, and when she’s done, we stand to leave the library together. I twine my fingers through hers again, then lean down to press a kiss to her head. She smells sweet, like she recently washed her hair.
But even though she’s next to me, as we head into the bustling corridor together, all I can think about is the hurt in Poppy’s eyes when she first looked up at me.
And I never want to make her look like that again.