Chapter 40
FORTY
LINDSAY
A week passes in a blur of—patrols, Veil tremors, half-finished homework, flirty Fae princes, and absolutely no sleep.
Because tonight is the Solstice Ritual.
Thankfully, no more students have gone missing. And there haven’t been any new fractures in the Veil. But the whispering?
Yeah. That’s gotten louder.
Loud enough that I’m pretty sure my guys are all secretly watching me like I’m one wrong step away from wandering straight into the Veil and introducing myself to whatever is calling my name.
And Dorian keeps hinting that he knows exactly what it is that’s calling me—but, of course, he’s being maddening and refuses to share.
The only reason I still patrol with him—and haven’t shoved him into a snowbank—is because Kael assured me that, as annoying as he is, Dorian can be trusted to keep me safe.
And the fact that I’m trusting Kael now…yeah, that isn’t lost on me.
He’s saved me more times than I can count. And after last week—after the moment in his room that nearly, almost, almost became a kiss—I…don’t know. Something shifted. Or maybe I just finally saw it.
Which is probably why that almost-kiss is still living rent free in my head.
I shake the thought away, trying to focus on the ritual notes, but my brain refuses to cooperate.
Thankfully, Tamsin and Nolan slide onto the bench on either side of me and drag me back into the present.
Nolan sits delicately, clutching his newest stack of books like they’re emotional support literature. Tamsin flops back in her seat, already rolling her eyes at something only she can see.
“You two look suspiciously awake,” I say in a yawn.
Tamsin smirks. “Oh, I’m not awake. I’m powered entirely by spite and sugar.”
Nolan pushes his glasses up. “And I’m awake because Tamsin threatened me when I tried to nap.”
Tamsin points at him. “He was drooling on his books. Full-on waterfall. I was concerned.”
Nolan sputters. “I was not drooling—”
I nudge Tamsin with my elbow and link my fingers with Nolan’s. “Don’t bully him before the ritual.”
“Please,” she scoffs, “I bully with love.”
Nolan attempts a dignified expression. “Technically, she bullies with volume. Because she is so loud.”
Tamsin gasps. “Oh. Oh. I see the Solstice Ritual has unlocked your sass. I am so proud.”
I laugh, leaning into Nolan. “Careful. She’ll adopt you if you keep that up.”
Tamsin slaps a hand over her heart. “Already did. You two will never be free of me.”
Nolan blushes down to the collar of his shirt.
He’s still blushing when I turn to him fully, our joined hands resting warm between us. Something in my chest softens at how shyly he ducks his head, as though he’s afraid looking at me too long might burn him.
I squeeze his fingers.
He looks up through his lashes, and God, he is adorable.
“Hey,” I murmur. “I’ve missed you.”
His breath catches. “You miss me? I’ve seen you every day.”
“Mmmhmm, every second I’m not with you, I miss you.” I lean in and kiss him.
It feels like sinking into safety.
His lips part in surprise, then he kisses me back—hesitant at first, as if he’s afraid to want too much, then deeper, sweeter, melting into the moment with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. When I pull back, his eyelashes flutter, his glasses slightly crooked.
“Lindsay,” he whispers, “that was…amazing. I mean—if you wanted it to be. I wanted it to be. I didn’t expect—”
I press a finger to his lips. “It was.”
He exhales so shakily it’s almost a laugh. “I don’t think I'm ever going to get used to kissing you.”
“Someday you will, we just have to do it more.”
Tamsin, of course, ruins the moment.
“Oh stars above,” she groans. “The cinnamon-roll energy in this corner is suffocating me. I am being smothered. I need hazard pay just to sit next to you two.”
Nolan covers his face with one hand, his voice muffled. “Please stop talking.”
Tamsin leans her elbows on her knees, lifts her hand acting as if she is holding a microphone, and she’s narrating a nature documentary. “Observe: the rare blushy warlock in his natural habitat, experiencing a kiss-induced cardiac event.”
“Tamsin,” I warn, trying not to laugh.
“He’s going to combust,” she says proudly.
“I’m not combusting,” Nolan mutters into his hands. “I am simply…processing.”
“Processing?” Tamsin snorts. “Honey, your soul left your body. I watched it ascend.”
A snort escapes me, and I rest my head on Nolan’s shoulder. “She’s not wrong, you know.”
He peeks at me between his fingers, glasses tipped at a ridiculous angle. “I’m trying to be dignified.”
“Too late for that,” Tamsin says cheerfully.
But she’s smiling—bright, open, and happy for both of us. Warmth spreads through my chest. Even with all the stress of the Veil and the fractures and the missing students, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here. My life is better now, even with all of the danger and drama.
Nolan and I are still recovering from Tamsin’s relentless commentary when the air changes.
Tamsin’s eyes widen. “Oh no. Not again.”
And before she can even finish the thought, she drops to her knees.
“Oh, come on,” she groans at the ground. “I was just getting comfortable.”
Nolan startles so hard he almost falls off the bench. I grab his sleeve to steady him as I look up—and there he is, Dorian.
Dorian Holt strolls into view from outside as though the great hall is a runway crafted for his personal enjoyment.
Silver hair catching the winter light before the doors shut behind him.
Coat whipping slightly in the cold breeze that trails him.
The kind of presence that radiates “I belong anywhere I damn well please.”
He stops when he sees us. Or, more accurately, when he sees Tamsin kneeling. Dorian sighs, long-suffering and borderline apologetic.
“Oh,” he says, lifting a hand, “sorry. Forgot the enchantment was still active.”
He flicks two fingers, and the pressure dissipates instantly.
Tamsin pops up like a spring released. “Do you know how inconvenient that is?! I can’t control falling to my knees around you!”
Dorian’s lips twitch. “You make it sound like that’s unique to you.”
Tamsin chokes, turning as red as her hair.
I roll my eyes. “Behave.” I think his default setting is flirting.
“Behaving is so limiting,” he replies, unbothered.
“Did I interrupt something?” he asks.
“Yes,” Tamsin says flatly. “My sanity.”
Nolan coughs into his sleeve. “N-No, we were just—studying.”
I snort. “Studying?”
He hides behind his books. Dorian laughs softly—warm, amused, and far too perceptive.
“I’ll leave you to… your academic pursuits,” he says, eyes lingering on Nolan just long enough to make him fluster again.
Then he turns to me.
“I’ll see you shortly, Little Star,” he murmurs, bowing his head slightly in a gesture that feels both elegant and entirely unnecessary. “The ritual awaits.”
My stomach flips. And not only from nerves.
Dorian straightens with a flourish and continues down toward the hall, his magic whispering faintly behind him.
Tamsin watches him disappear down the path, then mutters, “I swear, that man is walking sex in tailored clothing. Do you think he’s into guys and girls, or is that just… aggressive flirting?”
Nolan exhales shakily. “Why does he look at me like I’m an equation he wants to solve?”
“Because you probably are,” Tamsin says dryly. “Congratulations. You’ve garnered the attention of the Fae Prince.”
Nolan pales. “I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing I want.”
“He flirts with everyone,” I say quickly, squeezing his hand, trying to ease the tension curling through his shoulders.
But I saw the look Dorian gave him too. That wasn’t casual charm or idle mischief. That was interest. Which is… interesting. And unsettling. And maybe deliberate. Or maybe Dorian Holt just enjoys watching people squirm.
I don’t know which possibility I like less.
Nolan adjusts his glasses again, muttering, “I preferred it when my biggest problem was unfinished footnotes.”
Tamsin snorts. “Sorry, buddy. Welcome to the big leagues.”
“Big leagues? I don’t think you’ve even dated anyone in the two years I’ve known you,” he scoffs.
“Why is that?” I ask turning my head toward Tamsin to give Nolan a moment.
Tamsin rolls her eyes but doesn’t deflect the way she usually does. That alone makes me pause.
“Because,” she says slowly, stretching the word out like she’s deciding how honest to be, “dating implies kissing.”
Nolan blinks. “That’s… generally how it works.”
“And kissing,” she continues, tapping her finger against the bench, “is a terrible idea for me.”
I turn fully toward her. “Why?”
She hesitates. Just a beat. Long enough that the humor dims around the edges.
“Let’s just say,” she says lightly, but there’s something careful underneath it, “I’m not great for people’s long-term health.”
Nolan frowns. “Emotionally or—”
“Magically,” she cuts in. “Very magically.”
I study her face. She’s still smiling, still casual, but it’s the kind of smile that’s learned how to hide teeth.
“So you just… don’t?” I ask quietly.
She shrugs one shoulder. “I flirt. I banter. I emotionally devastate others from a safe distance.”
Nolan snorts despite himself. “That tracks.”
Her smile sharpens. “But I don’t kiss people. Because the last thing I need is some poor idiot ending up cursed because I wanted a moment.”
The word hangs there.
Cursed.
I swallow. “Tamsin…”
She waves it off immediately. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve been dealing with it forever. And honestly? Watching everyone else spiral romantically is excellent entertainment.”
Nolan tilts his head, studying her. “You know, you’re allowed to want things too. Maybe there is a way to get rid of the curse. I can research it.”
For just a second, something unguarded flickers across her face. Then it’s gone.
“I want snacks,” she says brightly. “And survival. In that order. I can watch Lindsay’s romance and live it vicariously."
I don’t push. But the way she stares out at the courtyard—tells me this isn’t just a joke. It’s a promise she made to herself.
And maybe, one day…she’s going to find someone that makes her want to break it.