Octavia
I don’t know how many hours have passed while I lose myself in my canvases, but when I finally look up, the light is gone, and only the glow of my lamp reflects in the wet paint.
After the cafeteria, I escaped to my dorm, and that is all I have done.
Paint.
I step back and glance out the window. The sky is pitch black.
I sigh, wash the paint from my hands, pull on a light jacket and my boots, and head towards the main academy building.
The path is long, but the cold air clears my thoughts, and the music in my ears drowns out the noise that lives in my head.
And has the audacity not to even pay rent.
I grimace.
Lame, even for me.
I enter the building and make my way to the library.
Once inside, the scent of old pages hits me, and I love it. It is quiet, everyone minding their own business.
I move through the rows, heading straight for the Art History section.
I have an upcoming project, and I need to start gathering notes. I meant to work on this earlier, but a particular canvas was calling my name, and now it is nine in the evening.
My fingers trace the spines.
Until, finally, I find it, after what feels like ten thousand volumes in this section alone.
I pull it free and turn, just in time to see Milo Markev walk out of the library. My jaw tightens on instinct.
But then I see her.
Talia.
She follows him.
My eyes narrow, and I start after them.
Talia is a year or two younger than me. I know very little about her, mostly because I never bothered to learn more.
Before the academy closed for the summer, the Thirteenth Circle threw a party.
She was crying, big, fat tears, sobbing uncontrollably, while a few of her friends tried to calm her down.
Long story short, I found out someone had hurt her.
And me being who I am, I could not simply let it go. After all, this is my calling in life. To rid the earth of the filth.
I gathered the information I needed, and it did not take long for her to give me a name.
When she did, though… it felt as if the world were closing in on me.
Even now, I bite my lip as the memories threaten to resurface.
I inhale slowly, and force myself to move.
My boots echo softly across the quiet corridor as I slip out the door. Their voices drift from around the corner.
I round it silently, keeping my distance.
Talia stands there, her arms crossed.
Markev looks angry, almost livid.
“I told you if you opened your mouth, I would fucking end you,” he growls, stepping towards her.
Talia looks… unbothered.
“What’s going on here?” I ask, moving closer.
Their heads snap towards me.
Talia starts crying as if on cue, and my brows knit together. Something is off.
But I narrow my eyes at Markev.
Because that blood is damn tainted.
“Spitfire.” He grins, and I don’t miss the frown on Talia’s face, the hatred radiating off her.
“Talia,” I say, my voice flat. I tip my head towards the corridor behind me. “Go.”
She hesitates.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I add. “Not with him.”
Her lips part, as if she wants to argue, but instead she drops her gaze and walks away, still sniffling.
I watch until she is out of sight before I turn back.
And startle.
I don’t expect him to be so close, but he is already in my space.
With the back of his palm, he brushes my skin.
“Looking for me?”
I slap his hand away. “What. The hell. Was that?” I gesture towards where Talia just disappeared.
His eyes narrow. “It was fucking nothing.”
I step closer, refusing to give him an inch. “Stay away from her.”
His eyes drop to my mouth.
“Or what?” he asks.
I narrow my eyes. “When you sleep,” I say quietly, “keep one eye open. Because I am fucking coming for you.”
He looks delighted.
He leans in, his mouth brushing my ear. “I don’t know where this hatred comes from, love, or what your problem is with me,” he murmurs, biting lightly at my ear, “but I relish it.”
His voice drops. “And if you ever manage to kill me, understand this. It will only be because I chose to die by your hand.”
I shove him back.
His laughter follows me down the corridor.