Chapter 6 #3
"No," I say. The word comes out too quickly. Professor Vale's expression changes. I pull myself together. "Please. He already knows the bond is reactive. If we report every strange thing, the council will know by noon." Valerius looks back at me. His gaze sharpens with understanding.
Professor Vale folds her hands in front of her. "And why does that frighten you, Miss Starling?"
Because my mother told me to look for her if the Flame behaved strangely. Because something is happening to me, and I have spent my whole life being powerless, and I don't know which is worse—having nothing or having something no one understands. I swallow. "Because I don't want to be a spectacle."
For a long moment, Professor Vale says nothing. Then she looks at Valerius. "Mr. Draven?"
His face gives nothing away. "She's already a spectacle," he says. Pain flashes through me. Then he continues. "No need to give them better seats." I stare at him. Professor Vale does too. Valerius's expression remains bored, almost cruel, but the words sit differently in the room.
Professor Vale studies us both, then picks up the broken ring.
"This relic was damaged during a demonstration due to age and improper storage."
Relief hits so suddenly I nearly sway. "You will say nothing about contradiction," she continues.
"You will say nothing about claim. You will say nothing about light, heat, or any other unusual reaction that occurred here unless I ask you directly."
I nod quickly. "Yes, Professor."
Valerius says, "Understood."
Professor Vale's gaze hardens. "But understand this. The bond between you is not behaving like an ordinary final-year pairing. If either of you hides something dangerous and another student is harmed, I will not protect you from the consequences." The warning lands heavy.
I nod again. She gestures to the door. "Go."
I leave first. Mostly because I need air. The corridor outside is empty now, the rest of the students long gone to their next class or to spread rumors about the cracked relic.
I make it three steps before Valerius's voice follows. "You lied in the training hall."
I stop. Close my eyes. Then turn. He stands outside the classroom door, half in shadow, one hand loose at his side. He looks too calm for someone whose magic nearly crawled toward me and whose bond just cracked an ancient relic.
"So did you," I say.
His mouth tightens. "You blamed my control."
"You accepted the blame." I remind him.
"You were protecting yourself." He states.
"And you weren't?" I ask.
His eyes flash. There it is... The truth between us, sharper than either of us wants it to be. Neither of us knows what is happening. Neither of us trusts the council. Neither of us wants to be watched too closely and somehow, impossibly, that puts us on the same side of something.
Valerius steps closer. Not enough to touch but enough for the bond to notice. Heat unfurls beneath my sleeve. His gaze dips to my wrist.
"You should be more afraid," he says.
I laugh softly, but there is no humor in it. "Of you?"
"Yes." He nods.
"At least you're honest." I let out a small laugh.
"I'm serious." He says.
"So am I." I lift my chin. "I have been afraid of this academy my entire life. Afraid of whispers. Afraid of professors asking me to demonstrate magic I don't have. Afraid of my father looking at me like I'm someone else's mistake. Afraid of my mother's pity.
Afraid of every room where everyone belongs except me."
His expression changes. I step closer now, anger pushing the words out before I can bury them.
"So forgive me if I don't have much fear left to spare for one arrogant boy with pretty black fire and a reputation everyone worships."
The corridor goes silent. Valerius stares at me. Something dangerous moves across his face. His voice drops. "Pretty?"
Heat rushes up my neck. Of all the words to hear. "I said arrogant too." I try to remind him to forget the pretty.
"I heard that part." His eyes darken.
"Focus on it." I tell him.
The bond mark pulses. I should step back but I don't.
For one suspended second, the space between us becomes impossibly thin.
I feel the warmth of him, the smoke-and-cedar scent of his skin, the dark pressure of his magic restrained somewhere beneath his calm.
His gaze lowers again—not all the way to my mouth this time, but close enough to make my breath falter.
The air feels charged. Like lightning before it strikes.
Like fire before it catches. Then voices echo from the far end of the corridor.
Valerius steps back. His expression hardens so quickly I almost wonder if I imagined the crack. "Dawn tomorrow," he says.
I blink, trying to gather myself. "What?"
"Training. Don't be late." He says.
Anger rushes in to save me from whatever else I was feeling. "You are insufferable."
"And you are reckless." He informs me.
"You barely know me." I remind him.
His eyes hold mine. "No," he says quietly. "But I'm beginning to think no one does."
The words hit somewhere they shouldn't. Before I can answer, he turns and walks away.
I stand in the corridor with my wrist burning, my heart racing, and his words sinking beneath my skin like they belong there and beneath my skin, quiet and impossible, the gold thread flickers once more. Like a secret refusing to stay buried.