Chapter 22 Lindsay
TWENTY-TWO
LINDSAY
Tamsin rifles through Kael’s sparse wardrobe like she owns the place, muttering to herself. “No offense to our broody demon prince, but his color palette screams ‘funeral guest with secrets.’”
Kael doesn’t comment. He just leans against the wall near his desk, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold like it’s mildly inconvenient.
Raiden sits on the edge of the bed, tense, as if he’s still expecting the Council to burst in.
Nolan’s pacing—half-worried, half-analyzing.
Probably forming an exit strategy in his head, just in case.
And I’m feeling slightly uncomfortable at the fact that all three of the guys I’m definitely attracted to are here together again, working to protect me, and I look like I haven’t had a proper shower in a week.
Which honestly, I haven’t. So there’s that.
I shift on my feet and wrap my arms around my waist.
I will not think about the fact that I probably stink, and Kael had to sleep in the same bed as me, not even that, but I was in his arms. I let out a soft groan and turn away from the three of them to focus on Tamsin.
“What are you doing?”
“Uh, attempting to find you new clothes, but he literally has nothing that would be fitting for a council visit,” she says looking over at me from his dresser now. “And he’s like a foot taller than you, so the pants would be way too big anyway.”
I hazard a glance at Kael, and he’s shaking his head, his eyes on my best friend. “Why don’t you go get her something that would be more fitting?” he suggests drily.
Tamsin gasps like she’s just been accused of fashion crimes. “Excuse me, shadow daddy, but I am very good at improvising under pressure. Remember the time I snuck into House Solara’s masquerade with nothing but a spool of illusion thread and half a bottle of sparkle tonic? I looked amazing.”
Kael’s brow lifts. “Didn’t that end with two arrests and a banned artifact investigation?”
Tamsin smirks. “Exactly. Iconic.”
Nolan makes a strangled sound that might be a laugh and might be a cry for help.
Raiden doesn’t react, but I think I see the corner of his mouth twitch.
Tamsin sighs and flicks her braid over her shoulder. “Fine. I’ll go full stylist mode. But when I come back, she better be radiant enough to make those dusty old council members weep.”
She breezes past me, then doubles back, plucking a piece of chocolate from Kael’s desk and popping it in her mouth like she owns the place. “Keep her safe,” she calls as she vanishes through the door.
The silence she leaves behind feels heavy.
I shift again, arms still crossed over my chest, painfully aware of how gross I feel. My hair’s a mess, my skin’s sticky with residual magic and sweat. There’s probably ash under my fingernails.
Kael watches me a beat longer, then speaks. “There’s a shower.”
I blink. “What?”
He tips his chin toward the hallway behind him. “Through the left-hand door. It’s private. Clean towels in the cabinet.”
“Oh,” I say, stupidly. “I don’t want to—”
“You want to,” he interrupts gently. “You won’t offend me.”
His voice is softer than usual. Almost like he knows what thoughts are going on in my head. I chew the inside of my cheek. Then nod once.
“Thank you,” I murmur, not meeting his eyes as I brush past him.
And I swear, just before I step through the door, I hear him say, barely loud enough to register—
“You don’t stink, by the way.”
I nearly trip over my own feet. Holy cow, can he actually read my thoughts? Is that a by-product of the magical mark I gave him?
Behind me, Nolan finally mutters, “Why does he get away with saying stuff like that?”
And Raiden just sighs, like this is exactly the kind of chaos he expected from today.
The door clicks shut behind me, muffling the sounds of the guys in the other room.
I pause, letting the quiet settle around me.
The space is just like the rest of Kael’s quarters—minimal, precise.
But the bathroom is warmer than I expected.
Dark slate walls, a deep walk-in shower carved right from the stone, and thick black towels folded with clinical perfection.
Of course. I’m learning he really likes his order and control. It’s sort of endearing.
The moment the hot water hits my skin, I sag against the wall and exhale a shaky breath.
I’m not sure how long I stand there, letting the magic-slicked residue of the last few days rinse from my body, but eventually, my gaze drifts toward the corner shelf.
Kael’s shampoo.
The bottle is unmarked, sleek and matte black, because of course it is. I squeeze a small amount into my palm and lather it into my hair, not expecting much. But the moment the scent hits me, I nearly groan.
It’s him.
Cool cedar and tantalizing spice, the barest touch of something ancient and wild beneath it all. Something that hums through my bond like a siren call. My knees weaken as I breathe it in. It’s like the space between our magic has narrowed, closed in, filled with this scent I want to drown in.
I tilt my head back under the spray, letting it wash over me again and again, like if I stand here long enough, I’ll understand why he makes me feel like this. Why I want more.
Not just his scent. Him.
I press my hand to the center of my chest, grounding myself against the ache that flares there. It’s not pain. Not exactly. Just the growing hum of something I don’t have words for yet.
I reach for his body wash next—same scent, richer now. It clings to my skin like a secret, one I’m not ready to admit out loud. I wash slowly, carefully, even though my limbs still tremble from everything I’ve done, everything I’ve become.
A quiet knock breaks the silence.
“Linds?” Tamsin’s voice is muffled but unmistakable. “I’ve got your clothes. Leaving them on the sink.”
I hear the soft creak of the door easing open—just enough to slide the bundle of fabric onto the marble counter—and then closing again.
“Thanks,” I call back.
I finish rinsing, then wrap one of Kael’s towels around myself, pausing at the mirror. I look a little less wrecked. Still exhausted. Still haunted. But less like a girl on the edge of breaking.
I reach for the clothes, fingers brushing soft fabric. Black. Sharp lines. Sleek, formal. The kind of outfit someone wears when they’re ready to make the Council regret everything.
Good.
Because they should.
The chamber smells like ozone and regret.
It’s colder than I remember. Or maybe that’s just me—wrapped in Kael’s scent, cloaked in clean clothes that somehow make me look like I know what I’m doing.
Tamsin found me something that fit me perfectly, all black with deep green stitching that glints faintly in the low light.
Like magic woven right into the fabric, fitting me like armor.
I stand just behind the boys, Kael at my side, silent and unreadable. Raiden hovers slightly in front of me—positioned like a shield. Nolan is closer than usual, one hand brushing mine when he thinks I won’t notice. I do. I let it linger.
The Council is already seated when we walk in, and this time, there are no empty chairs.
Headmaster Veyne stands at the head of the long stone table, hands clasped behind his back. His jaw is tight, eyes like stone as he surveys the group. All twelve of them. Even Professor Marris is here now, her expression unreadable.
“Lindsay Blake,” the Headmaster says, voice low and calm. “We owe you an apology.”
I blink. That… was not what I expected.
“We acted without unity. Without care. And without waiting for the full Council to return,” he continues, cutting a sharp glance at three members who suddenly find the stonework fascinating.
“Attempting to bind a student without consent—without understanding—was a grievous misjudgment. One that could have cost us all.”
“You don’t say,” Tamsin mutters beside me, loud enough to echo.
Veyne doesn’t flinch. “It’s clear now that Lindsay’s power is not only unique—it is critical. To the Veil. To the school. Possibly to more than that. Our job is no longer to contain it. But to support it.”
“Funny,” I say, folding my arms. “I don’t remember that being part of my syllabus.”
Raiden huffs beside me. “She risked everything to protect the Veil. You tried to punish her for it.”
“She nearly died,” Nolan adds, his voice quieter but no less steady. “You don’t get to pretend this didn’t happen.”
Kael says nothing. But I feel his magic, tight and coiled beside mine.
Veyne nods once, the lines of his face softening. “You’re right. All of you.”
That shuts the room up.
He turns to me again. “Lindsay… this academy failed you. But I would ask that you give us the chance to do better. Let us help you hone this power instead of hiding it. You don’t need to face it alone.”
My heart twists. Part of me wants to scream. Another part—older, more tired—just wants to rest.
“And if I say no?” I ask, lifting my chin. “If I decide I’ve had enough of magical politics and near-death bonding rituals?”
“Then we let you go,” Professor Marris says, finally speaking. “But I don’t think you will.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not done. And because there are people here who will stand beside you, no matter what. And you want to know what you are and what you’re capable of. You can learn that here.”
Her gaze flicks over Nolan, Raiden, Kael, and Tamsin, and I know they will all stand beside me.
“Well,” Tamsin says, clapping once. “That was the most civil this room’s ever been. Are we done, or is there a ceremonial sword to kiss or something?”
A few council members cough into their sleeves.
I stare at the headmaster for a long beat. “I’ll stay. But I’m not playing nice. And I’m not forgetting.”
“Nor should you,” he replies. “But perhaps, in time, you’ll find something worth staying for.”
My eyes flick sideways. To the boy who flirts like it’s breathing. To the one who paces with worry in his veins. To the one made of shadows and sharp edges who still wrapped his wings around me like I was breakable. To the girl who makes me laugh with her quirkiness.
I already have.