Chapter 42 #3
My mother lets out a delicate yawn. Gavrail rises smoothly to his feet, asking if he can escort her back to her room for the night—years of manners ingrained in him by his father, ever the gentleman.
The parents who didn’t book accommodation in the nearby town of Elesmere were offered rooms at the Ivy House, my mother along with them.
She smiles at Gavrail with something close to adoration, placing a hand on his cheek. “Bless you, boy. It’s been too long since I’ve seen that handsome face.”
He inclines his head and bows with charming ease, just enough to distract from the way his shoulders hold tension beneath the easy smile. He then leads her away, leaving me with Noa and his parents under a starlit sky.
I watch them go, and something primal stirs inside me. A sense of protection… but not for my mother.
For him.
The kind of man who doesn’t let anyone close unless he wants them there. And even then—only on his terms.
“Do you know what your plans are after graduation, Celeste?” Noa’s mother asks. Her question is laced with an unmistakable sense of expectation. To the Galleghers, the Service isn’t just a path—it is an honor, a duty one owes to their country.
“I’m not sure,” I say honestly. The truth is, I haven’t dared to imagine that far ahead.
Noa reaches for my hand under the table. “She’s only a first-year, Mom,” he says lightly. “There’s still plenty of time to decide—and as long as that future has room for me in it, I don’t care what she does.”
His arm curls around the back of my chair, easy and sure. But I catch the glance his parents exchange, the small grin on Blake’s face. The quiet approval. A shared understanding.
They see everything. So much like Noa, I think.
* * *
The next day brings the campus tour, where our parents are invited into our classrooms, given the rare chance to witness the inner workings of Whittaker—and, by extension, our lives.
My mother is immediately taken with Professor Barrows.
She hangs on his every word, her curiosity lighting up as he speaks about the interplay of ley lines and mineral resonance.
I realize then—somewhat sheepishly—that I’ve never actually asked what type of elemental he is.
I know he wields, of course, but haven’t thought to find out which element.
Earth, it turns out. And suddenly, everything about him makes sense. He has the patience of stone worn smooth by time, his presence grounding and solid as the earth beneath his feet. Like mulch pressed into a garden bed, he is cultivating, nurturing, and known for helping things grow.
“Actually, Celeste here is one of my prized students,” I hear him say, and my heart flutters with a kind of startled pride. “She’s been working on a fascinating extra credit project about elemental fusion. I’m eager to see how it turns out.”
My mother beams at me, clearly impressed, as he leads her through the classroom with gentle authority, gesturing toward charts and diagrams. I stand just behind them, a strange warmth blooming in my chest.
* * *
The following evening, a formal dinner is planned in honor of officers and their families—a high-society affair, from what I’ve heard. Only the top-tier students are invited, along with handpicked guests.
I’m still brushing off the lingering bits of powdered root and dried petals clinging to my pants from the day’s Botany lesson when Noa comes bursting into the Blue Dahlia common room, still in his gym clothes.
His cheeks are flushed from the run and something brighter, light catching the fine sheen of sweat along his collarbone.
His gray shirt clings to him, pulled tight over his chest and shoulders, every line of muscle defined beneath the fabric.
There’s a lazy heat in his gaze, a post-run glow that makes him look both wrecked and alive, like the world hasn’t quite caught up to his pulse yet.
Gods, how does he look this good after a run? I’d probably look like a drowned rat.
“Guess what,” he says, holding up a thick ivory invitation like a golden ticket. “You’re going.”
“I’m what?”
He grins. “To the dinner. You, me. Black tie, fancy food, full parade of fire and formality.”
I raise a brow, still skeptical. “And I’m invited because…?”
He steps closer, the invitation now dangling between two fingers as if he’s offering me a secret. “Because Headmaster Thorne said I could bring a guest,” he says, then—smirking—“and General Vaylor told me to bring my stunningly beautiful girlfriend.” The look he gives me is all fire and trouble.
The headmaster’s name snags in my chest. I haven’t told Noa yet about my father and Thorne’s friendship—or the role Thorne played in getting me here.
Noa’s arm hooks my waist and he dips me low.
“Guess we better find you something to wear to the ball, Cinderella.” His breath skims my lips.
“But first…” His voice drops, rough velvet.
“You’re going to take me upstairs and into your shower so I can make sure to get you thoroughly dirty before we both get clean. ”
The hunger in his eyes ignites something low in me—and if swooning were a reasonable option, I’d have done it on principle alone.