Chapter 46
Aric
I’M STARTING TO LOSE TRACK of the days. I drag myself to class and to practice, inhale meals without tasting them, then spend every other moment I have in my dorm room, reading and studying until my eyes are so dry that I can’t see straight anymore.
The days are getting shorter and darker, and that’s not helping either. I wake up in the dark and go to sleep in the dark, and even now, as I glance up from my textbook and toward the small window, all I see is my own reflection, the sky on the other side a swatch of black.
And I look . . . rough. My hair’s still a mess from practice, my eyes have bags under them, and—
I glance down at the necklace I’m wearing, the one with Ma’s ring strung onto it.
And the ring isn’t glowing anymore. The subtle shine that’s kept me company for the past couple months has finally gone out, and for some reason, it makes me want to crumble and put my head in my hands.
But I don’t have time for that. I need to study.
With a sigh, I turn the page in my textbook. At the same time, there’s a rustling behind me, and I glance over my shoulder to see a piece of parchment come sliding under the dorm room door.
Intrigued—and in desperate need of a short break—I push out of my desk chair and cross the small room to pick up the parchment.
And when my gaze sweeps across it, I realize what an ass I am.
It’s an invitation to the Blue Moon Ball. And I’m only now remembering that I told Poppy I’d help her pass these out. She must’ve thought I didn’t want to help anymore, because she didn’t bring it up.
Fuck.
Is she out there right now? On the other side of my door?
The thought of wrapping my arms around her and burying my face in her soft lavender hair makes tears want to spring to my eyes. In one stride, I’m at the door, and I yank it open, hoping to see Poppy on the other side.
But . . .
It’s Maeve.
And she does not look happy with me.
“H-hey, sis.”
Maeve crosses her arms, her dark purple eyes narrowing at me. Her gaze sweeps up and down me slowly in an assessment that makes me take a step back from her.
“What?” I ask.
“I was checking to see if you’re still alive,” she says, voice sharp and cold.
“Huh?”
She arches a brow at me. “With the way Poppy’s been moping around, I thought maybe you’d died and no one told me. But I see you’re fine. Just being a dick.”
That insult lands true. “You’re in a mood today.”
She steps forward, and I take another two steps back, but that doesn’t deter her, and she stalks after me, crossing the threshold into my dorm room.
It gives me flashbacks of how intimidating she was as a child.
Even though I was bigger and older, she was a way scarier child than I was.
And actually, I’m pretty sure that’s followed us into adulthood.
“Poppy isn’t herself. I’ve never seen her so gloomy, so I know it has something to do with you. What did you do?”
“I . . .” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I told her she doesn’t need to tutor me anymore.”
“Why?” Her gaze flicks to my desk, where I’ve got my textbook open, parchment spread all over the place, and half a stale muffin sitting on a plate. “You still need her help.”
My lips pull into a frown as I lower my hands, one still clutching the invitation.
“Because she’s busy, Maeve. She’s got her own finals, plus she’s Silvermoon’s TA and is still working on the ball.
Having to lug me around was just an added weight on her.
” My voice drops. “I was trying to do something good.”
Maeve stares at me for one long terrifying moment. Then she lets out a heavy sigh, her tense shoulders drooping. “You men are insufferable.”
“Is that why you refuse to let any of us court you?” Felex asks from the doorway, causing us both to start.
Maeve whips around to face him, hands on her hips. “What have I told you about prowling around like that?”
“I don’t prowl,” Felex says, as if the thought of doing so is offensive to him. “You just aren’t very aware of your surroundings.” He joins us in the dorm room but leaves the door open—even though he won’t admit it, I’m pretty sure he’s as afraid of Maeve and her storm magic as I am.
“Vampires,” Maeve grumbles, turning again to face me.
Her eyes meet mine, and she lowers her voice a bit to say, “You need to talk to her, tell her what’s really going on.
I think she’s feeling abandoned by you right now, but she doesn’t want to burden any of us, so she won’t talk about it.
Actually, you two are similar in that way .
. .” She narrows her eyes a bit, thoughtful, then refocuses on me.
She jabs a manicured finger into my chest, which is surprisingly painful.
“Fix. This. I’m serious, Aric. I don’t like to see her hurt. ”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” I say. “I—”
Maeve holds up a hand. “I know. But you did. So now you have to patch it up—preferably before the ball.” A little glimmer comes into her eyes.
“The dress she got . . .” She shakes her head and smiles to herself.
“It’s beautiful. And if you want to dance with her, you’d better be the Prince Charming I know you can be and fix it. ”
“Prince Charming?” Felex says from where he’s standing in front of a mirror, tousling his golden waves. “Are we talking about the same Aric?”
Maeve ignores him, her eyes pinned on me. She holds my gaze until I let out a sigh and nod.
“I’ll fix it,” I whisper.
“Good.” She puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me a squeeze, then turns and strides from the room, picking up her wicker basket full of invitations from where she left it beside my door.
“She’s a tempest,” Felex says once she’s gone and I’ve closed the door behind her.
“That’s one word for it.” I return to my desk, still holding the invitation to the ball. Then my gaze flicks to Felex. “Are you going to this?” I hold the invitation up, and he glances at it, able to easily read it from across the room with his vampire eyes.
“No. My great-uncle is in town that night. We’re getting dinner together.” He sounds oddly . . . pleased, enough so that I arch a brow at him.
“You just sounded happy about something. You like your uncle that much?”
Felex finally turns away from the mirror, his golden hair perfectly arranged. “He’s an academic. A historian.” Felex adjusts the cuffs on his pressed shirt, then smooths down the collar. “He’s good company. And he’s got an interview with the headmistress for a faculty position here next year.”
At the mention of history, my stomach turns, and I almost groan aloud.
“Sounds like a great time,” I grumble.
Felex narrows his eyes at me. He’d typically banter with me in that cold, sharp way of his, but he must see how stressed I am, because instead, he says, “How about dinner?”
He doesn’t actually need food—he’s a vampire, after all—but he explained to me once that to vampires, eating food is to humans what drinking alcohol is: unnecessary, but enjoyable all the same.
And he doesn’t usually offer to go to the dining hall with me, so he’s really going out of his way to try to make me feel better.
I glance at the Blue Moon Ball invitation one more time, then slide it into the top drawer of my desk. I’ll fix this, I tell myself. Somehow, I will.
Then I nod at Felex. “Dinner sounds great.”