Chapter Thirty One #2
With that Julian walked away, his footsteps echoing with casual arrogance.
“Is everyone okay?” Liri asked anxiously, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket. “Gideon, your face—”
“I’m fine,” he said curtly, but accepted the cloth to dab at the cut on his cheekbone.
“Fine?” Verena snapped. “Are you completely out of your mind?”
All eyes turned to where she stood rigid with suppressed fury.
“This is exactly what I was talking about,” Verena continued, her voice rising.
“This is what happens when you drag the team into your personal drama!” Her accusing stare fixed on Cassara.
“He just risked everything—his position, his reputation, the team’s standing—because you can’t handle your own problems! ”
“Verena—” Cassara started, but the other girl wasn’t finished.
“Don’t! Just don’t! You think because you had one good match, because you got lucky with a few tactical calls, that makes you worth destroying everything we’ve worked for?
” Her voice turned shrill. “He’s going to get disciplinary action!
Julian will report this! All because you couldn’t keep your mess away from the team! ”
“Verena, that’s enough,” Gideon said.
“Is it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve completely lost perspective! You’re supposed to be our captain, not her personal knight in shining armor!” Verena’s composure cracked completely.
“I said that’s enough,” Gideon snapped, louder this time. “Training is canceled.”
The silence that followed was immediate and jagged.
Verena’s mouth parted in disbelief. “You’re punishing the whole team?”
“No. I’m making sure no one trains when they’re distracted or bleeding. If you’ve got a problem with that, take it to the headmistress, or find a new team.”
Liri opened her mouth to protest, but Barrett caught her arm, shaking his head slightly. Oliver was already backing away, clearly wanting no part of whatever was happening here.
Verena stood frozen, her face pale except for two bright spots of color high on her cheekbones. “Gideon, I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” His dark eyes were unforgiving.
He turned without another word, brushing past Verena without even glancing back. His hand found Cassara’s again, gentler now.
“We’re leaving,” he said simply.
For once, Cassara felt no desire to argue and followed.
The room Gideon guided her inside was small, the sterile glow of the arcane lamps flickered faintly overhead as he nudged the door shut behind them.
Cassara stood awkwardly for a beat, her adrenaline fraying into soreness now that the incident in the hallway was behind them.
Her wrist ached but it was nothing compared to the way her heart still raced.
Gideon crossed to one of the supply cabinets. “Sit,” he said gently, motioning to the padded bench against the wall.
She didn’t protest.
He retrieved a small pack of ice, a jar of salve, and a roll of gauze before kneeling in front of her. No words, just care. His fingers were deft but cautious as he inspected the damage.
When she flinched, he froze.
“Sorry,” she murmured quickly.
Gideon’s gaze flicked up to meet hers. “You don’t need to apologize. Not for that. Not for him.”
“I mean it,” she said softly. “For getting you involved. For… dragging the team into my mess.”
He sighed, but his voice was calm. “You didn’t drag anyone. Julian’s the one who crossed a line. Again.”
She swallowed. “He wasn’t always like this.”
“You sure about that?”
Cassara’s mouth parted, then closed. Was she sure? Her voice went quieter. “Maybe I didn’t want to see it. When I stayed in line, followed the rules, did what I was supposed to… he never pushed.”
“And now?”
“Now I can’t unsee it.” She flexed her fingers as he secured the bandage. “The way he talks about me like I’m property. The threats.”
“It’s not your fault he can’t stand losing you.”
“Verena,” she said, watching his expression shift. “You care about her.”
“I do,” he admitted. “My parents took her in when she was twelve. She watched hers die during a leviathan breach. She was the only one who made it out. After that, she barely spoke. Wouldn’t eat.
Had constant night terrors. My mother sat by her bed every night for a year just in case.
When she finally started to live again, she clung to the one constant she had left. ”
“You.”
He nodded, quiet. “She sees me as something I’ve never been to her and no matter how many lines I draw, she doesn’t want to believe they exist.”
Cassara’s chest ached with the weight of it all. Gideon began packing the supplies back into the kit, his movements automatic.
“Wait.” She rose, stepped toward him, and pressed her hand to his arm.
He turned to look at her, his expression guarded.
Cassara reached past him, picked up a clean cloth, and wet it with a flick of the tap. Then, without waiting for permission, she stepped into his space, reached up, and gently dabbed at the blood smeared high on his cheekbone.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Gideon tilted his head slightly, a lopsided smile playing at his lips. “No need. I never pass up the chance to punch that pompous idiot in the face.”
She huffed a laugh.
“No,” she said, her hand still cupping the side of his face. “Well, I mean yes. But also thank you for giving me a chance. From the start.”
Gideon’s smile softened.
“You earned it,” he said. “I just happened to notice.”
And in the space between their breaths, something settled. Not finished. Not resolved. But steady. And very, very real.
His hand rose to catch hers as she dabbed at the cut. She didn’t pull away.
Instead her pulse fluttered, a quiet, unsteady thing, and when she looked up, Gideon was watching her. The light above cast soft shadows down the strong line of his jaw, catching on a faint smear of blood she’d missed.
Gideon’s eyes were darker than usual. Not stern or commanding, just quiet.
She knew that look. She had seen it once before. On the overlook. Right before Auren had kissed her like the world might end.
But this felt different.
Not desperate or heated.
Just… honest.
Gideon reached up, hand brushing gently against her jaw, hesitating only when he felt her breath hitch.
“I shouldn’t,” he murmured. “But I want to.”
His thumb traced lightly along her cheekbone. She didn’t move. Couldn’t.
And then he leaned in.
For a second, her eyes fluttered shut. Just for a heartbeat.
But the unexpected warmth came tangled with something colder. A flicker of guilt. A hand tangled in her hair. Auren’s voice in the dark.
Cassara turned her face gently, Gideon’s kiss landing on the curve of her cheek instead.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, not looking at him. “I just… I don’t know what this is.”
He froze, but didn’t pull away completely. His hand dropped from her face, curling into a loose fist at his side.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said, after a moment. “I should be apologizing.”
“It’s okay,” she said quickly, but her voice came out breathless, shaky. She stepped back, putting distance between them, one hand pressed to her cheek where his lips had touched. “It’s fine. It’s just—”
“You’re with someone.” It wasn’t a question. The realization was written clearly across his face and the way he suddenly wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Yes,” she whispered, then stronger: “I am.”
But even as she said it, her heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the almost-kiss and everything to do with the way her body had leaned toward him before her mind caught up. The way part of her, a part she didn’t want to examine too closely, had wanted to let it happen.
“Julian was right about one thing. You have been different. Happier. More confident.” His smile was rueful, self-deprecating. “I should have realized there was someone else.”
Cassara’s chest ached with guilt and confusion. “Gideon—”
“Don’t.” He said, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t apologize. I overstepped. I just…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Forget it happened.”
But she couldn’t forget it. Not the way her pulse had spiked when he’d started to lean in, or the moment of want that had flashed through her before loyalty kicked in.
“We should get back,” she said, her voice carefully controlled.
“Right.” He moved toward the door, then paused. “Cassara? This doesn’t change anything. Between the team, I mean. Whatever’s happening with your personal life, we’ll figure it out.”
“I know.” But even as she said it, she wondered if that was true. Because something had changed, something she didn’t know how to define or deal with.
They walked back toward the training area in silence, the weight of the almost-kiss hanging between them like a storm cloud. And Cassara tried very hard not to think about why her lips tingled with the phantom sensation of what might have been.