Chapter 22 Vallynn
She knows, and she hates me for it. The thought circled in my brain on repeat as I paced the living room of my dorm.
I thought I would be okay with that outcome, I thought I was fine keeping what she was to me secret.
But the moment she called me a coward for hiding it, all my carefully constructed excuses began to crumble.
Coward . The word echoed in my ears, the way it had left her lips so easily.
I’d been called worse. I was worse, considering the way I’d denied her the truth.
And yet… my steps stuttered, and I stopped pacing.
My hands curled into a fist at my sides, then loosened just as quickly when I felt it.
An unsteady tremor running through them.
For a split second, something cold and familiar slid down my spine.
Weakness. The same weakness that plagued me after the rituals and left me barely holding myself together when I first returned to the Academy.
My breath hitched as I looked down at my hands. They were shaking.
A sharp, instinctive surge of anger followed on the heels of that realization, and I clenched my hands into fists until my nails bit into my palms. I forced my breathing to even out, forced control back into my limbs as I shoved the icy fingers of fear down.
Seconds passed, and the tremor didn’t get worse.
If anything, it eased, though my hands still shook.
Relief rocked me as I realized I was shaking from emotion and not the weakness from the preparation rituals.
I dragged a slow breath into my lungs, flexing my fingers until the tremor finally stilled, though the echo of it lingered beneath my skin.
My control snapped back into place piece by piece, my familiar mask of nonchalance settling over me.
My thoughts locked back on the repetitive mantra that had caused me to tremble in the first place. She hates me .
I needed an outlet. Some way to burn off the excess energy building under my skin with the realization that I wasn’t content to have her loathing the way I’d expected to be.
There was only one place my mind went. To her.
I didn’t hesitate, stepping into the corridor and wrapping my shadows around me, as I strode from Magus House in search of Bechora.
I couldn’t help scoffing at my own actions as I considered what Dante would have to say if he knew I’d been following her around, concealed by my shadows, since I first chose to deny what she was to me.
He would have used it to fuel his argument that I should come clean.
The thought earned another quiet scoff as I slipped along the cobblestone pathways, shadows clinging tighter to my form as the late afternoon light stretched long across the grounds.
Students moved in clusters around me, laughing and conversing about the visit with their families, none of them aware I moved unseen among them.
My focus was on her, part of it always was.
I didn’t need to see her to know where she was going.
The pull from our mate bond thrummed low and steady, a constant pull in my chest that guided me as surely as sight.
Still, my breath hitched as I caught sight of her as she moved ahead.
Her pace was purposeful, her shoulders set in a way that told me she was preparing for something.
Thrackborne walked beside her, his lips moving with words I couldn’t hear at this distance.
Jealousy lanced through me before I shoved it aside.
Thrackborne was a professor; there couldn’t be anything more between him and Bechora, and I knew from the many times I’d followed her in secret before that he conducted private sessions with her to work on honing her abilities.
My attention sharpened as they veered off the main path, heading toward the wooded area behind Versipellis House. My brows furrowed as I followed behind them, confusion about why the dragon would bring her here of all places, for their session, as the trees swallowed the last of the daylight.
My shadows stretched easier here, blending seamlessly with the natural darkness as I dared to cut down the distance between us.
A subtle movement in the treetops drew my attention, and my steps slowed instinctively.
Tilting my head toward the sound, I caught sight of a figure moving just beyond the line of sight.
A flash of stone caused recognition to flash.
Dante. My jaw tightened as I observed him move through the trees, his attention fixed in the same direction mine had been moments before.
Annoyance flared, sharp and immediate, as I watched him close the distance, too focused on Bechora to notice anything else around him. For someone trained as a guardian, it was sloppy and reckless. Or maybe he hadn’t expected to be followed. A mistake on his part, one I intended to correct.
I let my shadows slip outward, thinner and more precise as they slid along the forest floor.
They weaved between roots and fallen branches until they raced along beneath him, silent and unseen.
A fallen stick lay just along the path he was weaving through the treetops.
Perfect. With a subtle flick of intent, I curled my shadows around it and snapped it up just enough to strike the back of his leg in a way that couldn’t be mistaken.
Dante froze instantly, his body going rigid.
His head snapped slightly to the side as he scanned the forest beneath him.
It was nice to know he wasn’t completely slipping.
I didn’t move or reveal myself. Just watched as his posture shifted subtly into something more defensive, and he scented the air.
His gaze scanned the area, once, twice, then narrowed on where I stood concealed.
Letting my shadows fall away, I signaled for him to come to where I waited.
Ahead of us, Bechora and Thrackborne continued on. Their voices faded until I was certain they were too far to notice anything Dante and I might do or say. Dante’s wings snapped shut as he landed on the ground beside me, bringing my attention back to him and away from my mate.
“Why are you following her?” I demanded, not bothering to ease into the conversation.
Something flashed on his face, and I was certain he was about to lie to me. He shook his head, as if to clear the urge, and when he looked at me again, guilt was written on every inch of his face.
“She’s my mate,” he said quietly.
I took a step back, reeling with shock and betrayal. She couldn’t be his mate. She was mine . “What?”
He raised a hand and dragged it through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh. “I should have told you, but it felt wrong with you on some mission to martyr your bond with her.”
“This… no. This can’t be possible,” I hissed, shaking my head to deny his words.
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure she already has three other mates, so me being one of them isn’t that big of a stretch. Unless you mean to imply I’m not good enough for the fates to tie me to her.”
Whatever jealousy had started brewing with his initial confession melted away, and I let myself take a closer look at him.
Dante was my oldest friend, and my bonded guardian.
The lengths he’d go to in the name of protecting me, even if it was protecting me from myself, were boundless.
Beneath the tension in his muscles, I noticed something deeper.
Longing, and the same ache I’d lived with since realizing Bechora was my mate.
“No,” I replied, blowing out a breath. “That’s not what I meant. I was just shocked.”
His posture relaxed, and he shifted from his stone form to his human one.
“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.
Honestly, I considered for half a second just pretending like I was keeping an eye on her for you, but she knows what I am to her.
She called me out on it earlier today. Figured it was only a matter of time before you found out, too, and I might as well come clean. ”
I barked out a laugh, causing him to frown in confusion, and leaned my back against the nearest tree. “She knows about me, too. Called me on it in History of Magical Warfare.”
Dante’s confusion slid away, and he wrapped his arms around his middle as he laughed at that. I was almost worried that his laughter would attract Bechora and Thrackborne’s attention, but the bond was pulled taut enough I knew they were too deep in the forest to hear us.
“She’s a little firecracker,” Dante said, his laughter finally subsiding. He swiped at his face, wiping away a tear that had formed from how hard he was laughing and looked at me again. “Does this mean you’re done being an idiot?”
I bristled at his words. “If you mean am I done denying the bond, then yes. I’ve ended my betrothal with Daena as well. Though I suspect neither thing matters much to Bechora right now.”
Dante’s brows shot up, surprise flashing openly on his face before it shifted into something more satisfied. “You actually did it?”
“I did.” I nodded before quickly telling him how Bechora had called me a coward, and then I later found Daena threatening her. I didn’t shy away from the way I’d made the decision in the heat of the moment to break my betrothal and let myself go all in with the bond.
Dante studied me for a moment after I finished speaking, then nodded slowly. “Well, that’s… a start.”
“A start,” I repeated flatly. “I may as well have raised a red flag for my father, telling him I wasn’t falling in line anymore.”
“We’ll deal with whatever he throws our way. We can handle him. But Bechora… She's another story altogether. She’s not going to just fall into our arms because we stopped keeping our bonds secret from her.”
“I’m aware.”
Dante shifted his weight, glancing in the direction Bechora and Thrackborne had disappeared before looking back at me. “So, what’s the plan?”
I didn’t answer immediately because I didn’t have one. Sensing that I was at a loss, Dante clapped a hand on my shoulder and turned me back toward campus.
“I guess we better get to work on one, then. She’s not going to forgive us just because we say please.”