32. Stella
32
Stella
Ryan is waiting for me that evening, taking advantage of the fact that I don’t lock the door from the bathroom into my bedroom. He’s perched awkwardly on the edge of my bed, worrying his hands in his lap.
His eye is bloodshot, his monocle hanging off his shirt, and his face is fixed in a permanent grimace.
When he hears me enter, his head whips up, and he’s on his feet faster than a male his size should be able to.
“Stella.”
“I’m fine, big guy,” I say softly, surging forward and grabbing one of his dinner plate-sized hands in both of mine. “I’m winged. I’m going to be a little flighty.”
My joke falls flat as he gazes down at me with so much emotion in his eye that it nearly takes my breath away.
“Stella,” he says again, the stress in his voice imploring me to listen. “I can’t imagine how you feel. After what happened with Yuri, now this. I doubt you’re feeling comfortable around males. I’m worried I may have inadvertently made you uncomfortable already and that you’ll not want anything to do with me.” He sighs, his shoulders slumping, and I look at him in a new light.
“What are you worried about, big guy?”
He buries his face in his hands. “I’ve been in the room with you while you shower.”
I snort. “I know. Have you snuck a peek or something?”
Ryan’s head snaps up. “What? No! But I have had the urge to.”
“Okay, and? You don’t think I’ve imagined what you look like under those chinos?”
He tenses beside me. “You… you’re interested in me like that?”
“Ryan. I kissed you. Well, you kissed me, but I kissed you back. Yeah, I’m interested in you. I know you only have one eye, but have you seen yourself?” I drag my eyes up and down his fit figure. He is fucking hot, and I was not lying when I said I wondered what he’s hiding under those clothes.
“I don’t have any experience with females. You’ll tell me if I mess up, right?”
No experience? Could he be a virgin?
Oh, I don’t have time to explore how hot under the collar that makes me feel.
“Of course I will.” I pat the bed beside me, and when he sits, I cuddle into his side. His olive skin is warm, and his touch immediately relaxes my tense posture. “Right now, we have bigger things to worry about, though.”
“What’s bigger than a Cyclops?” he jokes half-heartedly.
My smile is brief. “These dignitary visits. It’s starting to look like only the rarest spirits were chosen as the escorts, which raises a lot of questions. Michael and I-”
“Michael?” Am I imagining a hint of jealousy in his voice?
“Professor Jessup. He’s my staff escort.”
“On a first name basis with our simplynatural professor?” There’s definitely jealousy in his voice, and it’s kind of cute.
One day, I’ll need to tell him and Clay that I have more than professional feelings for the shifter, but that will not be today.
I take a few minutes to explain to him the things Michael and I have been discussing and how different he is from most simplynaturals. Eventually, Ryan’s agitation lessens.
“So he’s going to help us?”
“Us?”
He squints at me like I’ve said something ridiculous. “You don’t think I’m going to help? I’m not letting you do this alone.”
“But, Ryan,” I say softly, climbing up on my knees to be eye-to-eye with him. “You chose to come here. You wanted to be a simplynatural.”
He shakes his head in frustration. “I didn’t understand what it was like, what they were doing. It’s… it’s not right.”
I smile at my big guy, taking his face in my hands. “We’ll figure this out. When we do, we’re busting out of here, okay?” Softly, I press my lips against his, sighing when he reciprocates.
Maybe it’s a bad idea to involve these males in this scheme, but right now, I’m just glad I’m not doing it alone.
In addition to my regular school work, I am spending every spare hour researching the upcoming dignitary visit.
My region, Missurd, has a high population of demons, aquatic shifters, and sirens. On Spiritrealm, there are reports of Naga living in some of the country’s more remote areas.
“The visiting dignitary from Missurd is an Authentic male named Paul Rider,” Michael says, flipping through the packet the administration provided us. “He’s the president. It’s surprising he didn’t send a proxy. He must be really interested in seeing the place for himself.”
I click my teeth, bending over the realm map Michael stretched out over his desk. “It borders the Rift,” I mutter. “I wonder if there are any issues all these years later.”
“None reported,” the stag replies, chewing on the end of his pen. “But you know that doesn’t mean anything. Why?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, slumping back in my chair. “But I want to find out how to ask him about it.”
Michael puts the papers down, rubbing his temples. We’ve been at this for two hours now, and I’m sure his face hurts because it’s been in a permanent scowl. “That would definitely raise red flags.”
I dig in my backpack for a piece of the hard candy they had set out on the edge of the buffet at dinner, popping it into my mouth. “What if,” I say around the cherry-flavored candy, “We spin it as a negative for my spirit? I can ask lots of questions about the war, and you can pipe in with the,” I drop my voice, putting on my best Michael impression, “‘You must forgive Miss Mikers. She is still so fresh in the program that he cannot control some of the more dominant characteristics of her spirit. Valkyrie are known to be aggressive warriors.’ “
“I don’t sound like that,” he huffs, but a twinkle of amusement is in his green eyes. “Besides, how will stopping you help?”
“People can’t help but brag, Professor.” His eyes heat, but he doesn’t say anything, and I clear my throat. “If he’s proud of how they’ve handled things since the Rift War, he may spill his guts just as well as if I hit him with a blade.”
“Fine,” he relents, shoving back from his desk. “If it comes up naturally, I suppose it won’t hurt to try.” I watch the male cross the office, stopping at his bookshelf. He’s tall and lithe, graceful in a way that belies the magic of his spirit. He pulls a fat book off the shelf and drops it in my lap before finding his seat across from me.
“I dug this out of staff storage.”
I turn the book over in my hands, cringing at how the dust feels under my fingers. On the front, big block letters scream at me.
“‘The Warrior and the Raven,’” I say, looking up at him in confusion. “What is this?”
“That is your history.”
“Where is it from?” I slowly open the book, the cover stiff and the pages yellowed and aged. “I’ve never heard of this before.”
“I don’t know. I found it in the staff library the other day. It’s ancient and must have been hidden away for a reason, so I think it will benefit you to read it.” He leans forward on the desk, propping his chin on his hand.
Reading with someone’s full attention on you is awkward. What if I don’t react the way he wants me to? What if something important skips my notice, and he has to chastise me and send me back a few pages?
Resigning myself to Michael’s watchful eye, I turn to the table of contents, trying to figure out where to start. Eventually, I give up and open a few pages into the text.
…symbiotic relationship between the Valkyrie and the Raven who followed her into battle. When the Valkyrie chooses a soul to return to Valhalla, the Raven devours the corpse left behind. Together, the pair were able to wipe out a battlefield quickly.
Without her Raven, the corpses would remain, festering in the sun.
It is hard to know what is truth and what is fiction regarding the lore of the Valkyrie. While some literature describes the Raven as an actual bird, others assume the Raven was used as a title.
As a researcher, I am inclined to agree with the assertion that Raven was a title used to describe a Valkyrie’s lover or lovers. A Raven was said to symbolize many things in the lore. I have seen it described as a trickster, a bringer of ill omens, a shapeshifter, a bearer of knowledge, and a carer for the dead and lost souls. This wide variety of descriptions points to a Valkyrie having one or more supernatural lovers, which has been lost in translation for the more “palatable” belief that a Valkyrie maintained a vow of celibacy.
Throughout this work, I’ll explain more of the history of the Valkyrie and her Raven, including the spirits most likely to have been selected to be part of a Raven.
First, let’s explore the symbolism behind a Valkyrie’s wings…
I look at Michael, at the curious way he’s watching me, and squint over the book. “Why did you give me this, Michael?”
He holds his hands up upon hearing my tense tone. “I’m not trying to imply anything, Stella. This is one interpretation of your spirit. We don’t know much about Valkyrie, and it’s clear Robert Sinclair wants you in front of the dignitaries for some reason. Knowing more cannot be a bad thing, right?”
I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. If this is to be believed, my ancestors brought forth a group of spirits, their lovers, to assist them during battle and deemed them her Raven.
It’s almost unbelievable that some tales would call us celibate, and others say we have multiple partners.
But is it that unbelievable?
Purity is always celebrated over sexual freedom, and what is freer than one female with multiple partners?
Am I really so different? Ryan and Clay have made it clear they will not make me choose between them, and I cannot ignore the pull I am feeling towards Blue and Michael.
Could I unknowingly be forming a Raven?
That would mean a battle is coming, right? What would I need a Raven for otherwise?
I have so many questions, but I’m not sure if I can handle the answers. What if I am forming a Raven? What would I do? Just find Blue and say, “Hey, strange leprechaun who won’t tell me his name, do you want to be one of my multitude of lovers and clean up after me in the event of a war?”
“I resent the idea that the Valkyrie would need someone, or multiple someones, to clean up after them,” I eventually say, because that is the most palatable thing for me to focus on right now.
“That’s what you took from that?” Michael says with exasperation. “Take the book with you. Don’t let it out of your sight. But read it.” An unnamed emotion flits across his face as he reaches out to place a hand on top of mine where it grips the book. “The Raven didn’t clean up after the Valkyrie. The Raven was the other part of her mission. The Raven was her support. Without the Valkyrie, the Raven is nothing. She is the center of everything.”
Closing the book and slipping it into my pack, I fight to hold my tongue and mouth off. I want to know why he thinks this is so important. My hopeful little heart wonders if he’s suggesting he be a part of a Raven for me. I want to grab the back of his shirt and yank him towards me, pressing my body against his as I run my tongue up his long, slender neck.
The heat that burns inside me must be reflected in my eyes because he takes a stuttering step towards me. His eyes flick down to my lips, and my tongue involuntarily traces them, wanting to taste him.
I take a step back and shake my head.
We’ve got too much going on for this to be something we focus on. What matters now is discovering what is happening to all the supernaturals and why it all comes back to Robert Sinclair.
I cannot afford to research the secrets of my spirit. It would be selfish of me, and I have a job to do here.