22. The Looped Reality Of The Wicked Part I
22
THE LOOPED REALITY OF THE WICKED PART I
~GWENIVERE~
T he dining table gleams with fresh polish, thoroughly sanitized after activities that had nothing to do with proper dining etiquette.
I shift in my seat, trying not to wince — or blush — at the pleasant ache radiating through my body.
Should have stretched first.
But really, how was I supposed to prepare for being thoroughly claimed by a Fae prince before my morning coffee?
My attempts to maintain a casual demeanor probably aren't fooling anyone, especially since the sound of flesh meeting flesh and increasingly desperate moans probably echoed through half the building.
Mortimer has relocated to the kitchen island, pointedly avoiding the "defiled" dining table.
His expression suggests he's trying very hard to pretend he didn't hear every detail of our passionate encounter, though the slight flush to his usually pale complexion betrays him.
The thought of him and Cassius bearing witness to our orchestra of pleasure makes me smirk despite myself.
Though to be fair, Nikolai hadn't exactly encouraged quiet dignity with his talented hands and that wicked tongue ? —
A steaming cup of coffee appears before me, interrupting that dangerous train of thought. Cassius sets it down with careful precision, his shadows curling around the mug like protective tendrils.
"Thank you," I beam up at him, genuinely grateful for the caffeine offering.
My stomach growls audibly as he follows the coffee with a plate piled high with food — eggs (not purple-flamed), bacon, toast, and what appears to be perfectly caramelized home fries.
The sight reminds me that I've barely eaten since arriving at the academy, too caught up in survival and supernatural politics to maintain basic nutrition.
"You need to eat like a normal person," Cassius states matter-of-factly. "Being a hybrid doesn't mean you can survive on blood alone."
His concern touches me, especially given the complicated dynamics at play.
Here he is, making sure I'm fed properly, mere moments after I thoroughly enjoyed his fellow prince against various kitchen surfaces. We've been bonded for what — less than twenty-four hours?
Though when I try to calculate the time since our own passionate encounter, that too seems to fall within a similar timeframe.
"How does time actually work here?" I ask, genuinely curious. "I've read mentions of accelerated temporal flow within Wicked Academy due to the magical domains, but whenever I tried to research deeper, I hit dead ends."
Mortimer perks up at the academic question, his embarrassment forgotten in favor of sharing knowledge.
"The temporal mechanics of Wicked Academy are fascinating," he begins, clearly in his element. "The magical barriers that protect and define this space also create unique chronological patterns. Time moves differently here than in other realms, including the mundane world."
"That's why we've technically lived for 'centuries,'" he continues, warming to his subject. "The academy's temporal flow is significantly accelerated compared to outside realities. A day here might equal mere minutes elsewhere, though the ratio isn't always consistent."
I lean forward, intrigued by the implications, but Nikolai's voice cuts through my academic curiosity.
"She can learn the theoretical details after she's eaten," he declares, appearing at my side with a glass of orange juice. "We can't risk having Gabriel faint in the training fields when classes begin."
The use of my male alias reminds me of the complexities still ahead. I may have moments of being purely Gwenivere in private, but to the rest of the academy, I need to maintain my masculine facade.
My stomach growls again, louder this time, making the decision for me. I pick up my fork, trying not to seem too eager as I dig into the perfectly prepared breakfast.
The first bite nearly makes me moan — though after recent activities, I manage to contain my enthusiasm to merely appreciative humming.
The coffee proves equally perfect, the rich aroma alone helping to clear some of the pleasant fog from my mind.
The domestic nature of the scene strikes me suddenly.
Here I sit, sharing breakfast with beings of incredible power, all of them concerned with my proper nutrition. It's so far from what I expected when I first scaled these walls that I almost want to laugh.
Instead, I focus on eating, aware of their collective gazes monitoring my progress.
The food disappears quickly, my body apparently more than ready for actual sustenance after surviving on adrenaline and determination for so long.
Between bites, I can't help sneaking glances at them all — Mortimer with his barely concealed eagerness to share knowledge, Cassius's shadows betraying his continued concern despite his neutral expression, and Nikolai...
Nikolai watching me with that intensity that makes heat pool low in my belly, despite having thoroughly satisfied similar heat mere moments ago.
The mark on my chest pulses warmly as if agreeing with my body's continued interest.
Focus on breakfast , I remind myself sternly. Classes and training fields await.
Though, given how time moves here, who knows how long we actually have before facing those particular challenges?
"Why do you call yourself a hybrid?" Nikolai asks suddenly, his golden eyes studying me with careful intensity. "You're a vampire with magical essence, but you speak of it as if it's something more complex."
I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth, considering the question.
After a moment, I shrug.
"I guess I use the term because that's what the village always called me. It just... stuck."
"Elaborate," Mortimer prompts, his academic curiosity clearly piqued.
I finish my final bite, buying time as I settle back in my chair.
The memories I'm about to revisit aren't particularly pleasant, but something about this moment — s urrounded by these powerful beings who've somehow become important to me — makes sharing feel less daunting.
"We were born in a small village," I begin carefully, "one that feared anything different. My parents weren't exactly the approved sort of couple that people blessed at festivals."
A bitter smile tugs at my lips.
"They weren't really accepted anywhere they went, despite their positions of power. They never stayed in one place long, but when my sister and I were born..."
I trail off, the weight of old pain making my throat tight.
The image of Elena in her hospital bed, fading away day by day, threatens to overwhelm me. I push it aside, unwilling to dive too deeply into those particular waters.
You need to blend in this infiltrated fortress until another opportunity comes along where you can explore these walls for the chalice.
The self-talk helps me feel less dreadful about it.
"My magical abilities manifested very early," I continue instead, focusing on facts rather than emotion. "But it was the vampire side that made me appear...odd."
I search for words to explain it properly.
"Vampire children are less expressive by nature. We prefer observation, solitude. It's not that I didn't want friends…it's just how we are."
Another shrug, this one almost defensive.
"The village labeled me as a hybrid, and it stuck. Whether it's technically accurate or not doesn't really matter to me anymore."
I turn my attention back to Nikolai, curiosity replacing old hurt.
"Why do you ask?"
His expression turns thoughtful as he leans against the counter.
"Your magic levels are exceptionally high for a 'witch,'" he says, choosing his words carefully. "I sensed it earlier..."
A knowing smirk plays at his lips, referencing our recent passionate encounter.
"But witches all have a natural ceiling — a point where their power plateaus. You don't seem to have that limitation."
"Aww," I coo mockingly, though genuine interest sparks beneath my teasing. "Trying to figure out my weaknesses already? How wicked of you."
He rolls his eyes, but I catch the playful glint in them.
The gesture somehow makes him more endearing — this ancient, powerful being willing to engage in casual banter over breakfast.
The marks on both my neck and chest pulse gently, as if approving of this moment of connection. Cassius's shadows writhe with increased activity, suggesting he's following the conversation with more interest than his neutral expression reveals.
"It's not just about power levels," Mortimer interjects, his scholarly nature unable to resist adding to the discussion. "Your magical signature is...unusual. It doesn't follow traditional patterns for either vampiric or witch-based magic."
I consider this as I finish my coffee, appreciating how the rich brew has cleared away the last vestiges of sleep fog.
"Maybe that's why the village feared us so much," I muse aloud. "Something about us didn't fit their understanding of how magic should work."
"Us?" Cassius catches the plural, his silver eyes sharp with interest.
"My sister and I," I clarify, though saying it sends another pang through my chest. "We're twins, but she..." I stop, unsure how to explain Elena's condition without falling into the pit of worry that constantly threatens to consume me.
"The sister you came here to save," Nikolai fills in softly. His hand finds my shoulder, the touch gentle but grounding.
I nod, grateful he doesn't push for more details. The mark above my heart warms at his touch, a physical reminder of this unexpected connection we've forged.
"The academies libraries might have information about similar cases," Mortimer offers, his tone carefully neutral. Similiar cases? I can only wonder if he means with her being unwell. Do other students here come to find the chalice I’m looking for? "Once you're settled into classes, we could research?—"
"Speaking of classes," Nikolai interrupts, though he shoots Mortimer an apologetic look. "We should discuss maintaining your glamour during training. The physical demands will make it harder to hold the illusion."
The practical concern pulls me back from darker thoughts.
He's right — maintaining Gabriel's form while potentially fighting or performing complex magic will require more concentration than I've needed so far.
"I can help with that," Cassius offers unexpectedly. "Shadow magic can reinforce glamours without drawing additional power from the caster."
The offer surprises me, though perhaps it shouldn't. Despite the complexity of our situation — or perhaps because of it — he seems genuinely invested in helping me succeed here.
"Thank you," I say softly, meaning it for more than just the help but everything brewing in this whirlwind of uncertainty.
My gaze shifts to Cassius specifically, guilt gnawing at my insides.
"Are you mad?" I ask quietly, forcing myself to meet his silver eyes. "About...you know. The unexpected bond with Nikolai?"
Better to confront this now, before classes start and everything becomes even more complicated. The last thing I want is to be a burden, a source of tension between th em.
Cassius's expression remains neutral, but his shadows writhe with uncertainty which makes me more nervous.
"Why would I be mad?" he asks instead, his voice carrying that familiar calm that somehow manages to be both soothing and slightly intimidating. "None of this bonding business was your choice. You didn't wake up one morning and decide to form magical connections with two princes."
His lips quirk slightly.
"That would be rather ambitious, even for someone who managed to infiltrate Wicked Academy."
Nikolai nods in agreement, his golden aura pulsing gently.
"Besides," he adds, his voice carrying notes of amusement, "I respect Cassius. The idea of sharing a mate with him isn't exactly a hardship."
The casual way he says it makes my cheeks burn, but another worry surfaces, making me frown.
"But what about your families?" I press, anxiety coloring my voice. "You're both from royalty. Won't they lose their minds knowing you're bonded to some random hybrid who literally fell into your lives in the middle of the night?"
Their matching smirks make me pause, and I turn to Mortimer in desperation, hoping for some clarity.
He adjusts his glasses, looking entirely too amused.
"From what I understand," he says carefully, "it sounds as though you were destined to cross their paths. To let them feed off you." His eyes glint with mischief. "And by feed, I mean more so the sexual aspect of?——"
"That is NOT what I meant!" I interrupt, mortification making my voice crack. My face feels like it's on fire as they all grin at my obvious discomfort.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I try to regain some dignity.
"I just...I don't want you getting in trouble," I say, my voice softer now. "The chalice for my sister is still my priority, and if you want to find a way to break the bonds..."
The words trail off, leaving an uncomfortable hollow feeling in my chest.
Even suggesting it feels wrong, like trying to sever a limb that's become integral to my being.
"I don't feel the need to break it," Cassius says quietly, his shadows coiling closer as if seeking reassurance. "Duskwalkers... we're destined to be alone. I accepted that fate long ago."
His admission hangs in the air, heavy with centuries of resignation.
"When the bond formed between us," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, "I was more surprised than anything. It doesn't mean we're instantly compatible…like you said, we barely know each other." His silver eyes meet mine, intense and unflinching. "But I oppose the idea of breaking something that doesn't need to be destroyed. It happened for a reason, and maybe..." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe I'd rather explore where this leads than destroy it before it has a chance to truly blossom."
His words leave me speechless, my heart thundering in my chest as I stare at him in wonder.
This is perhaps the most I've ever heard him say at once, and the raw honesty in his voice makes my throat tight with emotion.
"As for me," Nikolai interjects smoothly, his golden aura wrapping around us like a warm blanket, "I've never particularly cared what my family thinks about my life choices." His lips curve into that familiar smirk, but there's something softer in his eyes. "My contentment and my partner's happiness are what matter. Everything else is just noise."
The simplicity of their acceptance, the way they seem so unbothered by the complications I represent, makes my eyes burn with unshed tears.
Fuck…didn’t think meeting two royal paranormal princes who are willing to be bonded to me was on my Bingo card…but here I am.